Near the mountain the forest assumes a different aspect. Instead of the tall trees there are vast groves of palms which form such a dense canopy that the sunlight never penetrates to the ground; for this reason there is no undergrowth, but the earth is covered with a soft carpet of dry leaves. Some of the plants attain such giant proportions, with fronds thirty or forty feet long and fifteen feet wide, they form great tent-like shelters. As we neared the mountain the Indians became restive and finally refused to go any farther. They firmly believe that it is the abode of spirits who will be quick to resent any intrusion into their sacred precincts. Besides, the rainy season was fast approaching, and at night blinding flashes of lightning played among the crags, and the dull boom of distant thunder pierced the sultry blackness. Wind swept through the forest in fitful blasts, and it rained frequently. Sometimes the blasts attained the velocity of a cyclone and sent tall trees crashing down on all sides. The Indians could endure the strain no longer, so one night they quietly disappeared, taking the boat with them. At first this loss seemed anything but pleasant, but a raft was soon constructed, and two of the men were sent down to the nearest rubber-camp on the Orinoco for another craft. We never saw our Indians again, but one afternoon two men of the tribe visited our camp. They emerged silently from the forest, having concealed their canoe somewhere above or below, laden with baskets of plantains, sweet potatoes, and bananas, and several cakes of cassava bread, also a large, freshly killed curassow--enough provisions to keep two men a week. I thought they wanted to stop with us for the night, and showed them the fireplace. They paid no heed to my implied invitation, but dropped their burdens at our feet, reluctantly accepted a few fish-hooks which were offered to them, and then departed as mysteriously as they had come. Perhaps they had been sent by our erstwhile companions, who may have been conscientious enough to make some reparation for the theft of the canoe. The rainy season advanced with such rapid strides that further work was impossible. Vapor hung over the forest like a pall for days at a time, and the river, rising with each passing hour, was quickly inundating the lowlands. The sight of the new canoe coming up the river was therefore a welcome one, and it did not require many days to pack our collections and outfit, stow them aboard, and steer a course downward with the rapid current. It required only nine days to reach San Fernando de Atabapo.