A few hours after starting, on the morning of the third day, we emerged suddenly from the gloom of the forest. Instead of the tall, overburdened trees, there were extensive areas covered with brush, evergreens, stunted pines, and ferns. Beyond stretched the bleak, wind-swept slope of the Paramillo. At sight of this, the porters struggled on frantically, for the attaining of the goal meant a release from their heavy burdens--and water. That afternoon the last knoll had been crossed and the packs deposited on a rocky flat which was to serve as a camping-site. Each man started in a difference direction in search of a brook, and by dusk a pot-hole at the bottom of a ravine, and only a few hundred yards from camp, had been found containing several hundred gallons of pure, icy water. Never was a discovery more earnestly welcomed, and the men sprawled around the edges of the pool and drank their fill; then it was arranged that they should stay with us for the night, start back to Peque the next morning, and return for us after ten days. Our cook was of course to remain with us. [Illustration: Our camp on the Paramillo.] The Paramillo region is composed of a series of sharply inclined peaks, the highest of which has an elevation of thirteen thousand feet, and is interspersed with ravines and deep fissures. The surface consists mainly of dark sandstone, so shattered over vast areas that a thin litter of particles covers the fundamental rock. Occasionally a thin vein of white quartz crops out to the surface, especially where, as often occurs, the strata stand in a perpendicular position.