On account of the long climb, having ascended five thousand feet during an eight hours’ march, we made camp at three o’clock at an elevation of ten thousand feet. This gave us an opportunity of observing a few of the birds living in this untouched wilderness. There were wood-hewers and yellow-headed tanagers; parrots and blue-throated jays. A large harpy-eagle sat majestically on a low branch, surrounded by a flock of California woodpeckers, which screamed and scolded and darted at his head; but he sat perfectly motionless, utterly disdainful of such ignominious prey. There was no water on the ridge, but a supply was secured from a ravine a thousand feet lower down; it was the last we had until we reached the Paramillo two days later. The second day’s march we hoped would be over a gentler slope, but it was soon discovered that our ridge consisted of a number of knolls rising from five hundred to a thousand feet above the mean level, and the forest grew denser constantly. Every foot of the way had to be cleared. In places we actually walked over the top of the vegetation; the branches were covered with a solid tangle of creepers, climbing bamboo, bromelias, and moss, and formed springy aerial bridges. More frequently it was easier to burrow underneath, so tunnels many yards long were cut, through which the porters crawled on hands and knees. The tops of some of the eminences were void of trees, their place being taken by jungles of bamboo, wild oleanders, shrubs, and clumps of tall, coarse grass with blades eight feet high and six inches wide, the edges of which cut like knives. That night we camped at eleven thousand three hundred and fifty feet up. The men eagerly cut down clumps of bromelias, hoping to obtain water from the bases of the leaves, but all they found were a few drops of vile, black liquid filled with drowned insects. Although we had travelled steadily for ten hours, I doubt if we had covered more than three miles.