Poor Jack was dragged along by his savage companions, the muzzle of a pistol or the point of a long knife every now and then being shown him, as a hint that he must keep up his spirits and move on. This was no easy matter without stumbling, for the ground was strewed with decayed timber, while creepers and parasitical plants of numerous species formed traps to catch his feet. He saw, too, the grass frequently moving, as a hideous snake or some other reptile crept away among it. Overhead were birds of every variety, and of the richest plumage; parrots, trumpet birds, pigeons, whydahs, green paroquets, and numberless others, which he was in no humour just then to admire, while monkeys of all sorts skipped about among the boughs of the lofty palms, and chattered away, as if to inquire where the stranger had come from. In one or two openings between the giant palms, bananas, and other lofty trees, Jack caught sight of some blue ranges of mountains in the far distance, and towards them, as they pushed their way through the dense underwood, his captors seemed to be proceeding. The dreadful thought occurred to him, that he was being carried off into the interior to be turned into a slave, and perhaps that he should never be able to make his escape. The jungle grew thicker and thicker, and the forest more gloomy as they proceeded, till he could scarcely work his way along, and even the Spaniards and blacks, with their arms at liberty, had no little difficulty in making progress through it. At last they came to a standstill, and a talk among themselves. Poor Jack caught the very ominous words, "_mata el chico_," which he knew too well meant "kill the little chap." "He is not worth the trouble he costs us," added the ferocious Spaniard who had spoken. "This knife of mine will settle him with a blow." "It is a pity we did not do it in the canoe, and save ourselves trouble," growled out his companion, drawing his long knife from his belt.