To the boys, impatient to get into the forests, the time on the side-wheeler went but slowly. Day after day was spent on deck, gazing at the vast plains on one side of the river and the forest on the other. They made the stops mentioned, and also several others, but none of the party went ashore, for the heat was terrific. “We can’t get out of this too quick for me,” said Hockley. “I feel about half fried out already.” “The climate changes as one nears the mountains,” returned the professor. “You won’t suffer so much in a few days,” and his words proved true. As they came in sight of the first of the mountains--really the foothills of the Andes--the thermometer dropped half a dozen degrees and the nights proved all that could be desired. CHAPTER XXVI CAMPING ON THE UPPER ORINOCO “What a truly grand sight!” It was Mark who uttered the words. He stood in the bow of a long canoe, manned by a single Indian, who was sending the craft along the bosom of the silent river with skill and swiftness. On each side of the canoe the dark waters of the upper Orinoco stretched to a distance of a hundred yards or more. Beyond were gigantic forests of mahogany, rose-wood, grenadilla, ebony, and rubber trees. Beneath the trees were immense ferns and strange varicolored mosses, and over and through all grew the ever-present tropical vines, forming meshes which were well-nigh impassable. The sun shone far to the westward, but the river lay in a deep shadow, and the many birds which had sung so gaily during the day had ceased their song, giving place to the sounds of the oncoming night. Far in the distance some wild parrots screeched out boldly, and many monkeys added a chorus of their own. As Mark gazed at a tree which stood at the bend of the stream he saw something uncurl itself and drop into the water with a slight splash. “What was that?” he asked of the professor, who was nearest to him. “That was a water snake, Robertson. An ugly creature, too, if you meet him in his native element.” “Ugh, a snake! Then I guess we won’t land there.” “The Indian says he knows of a nice spot a mile beyond here, where there is a cleared place on the brow of a little bluff. To camp in the midst of such a jungle as this would be very unwise.” For three days the party had been traveling along the upper Orinoco in the canoe, which was a stout affair, over twenty feet long and with a little hood in the stern for protection from the sun. The last village at which they had stopped had been left ten miles behind and here they had bidden adieu to Andy Hume, who was in another boat and who wished to explore one of the many tributaries of the Orinoco which join the mighty stream at this point.