lished signal to close instantly—the signal also of extreme danger. This signal was answered, but still the missing party did not come up. After waiting some time, several successive shots were fired, when Strain, to his astonishment, heard their carbines far up the river, and apparently near the base of the hill. Unwilling still to believe it to be their wish to separate, he waited some time on the slope of the mountain, firing frequently. But finding that their responses gradually became more and more faint and distant, he determined to proceed, hoping that they were only seeking a lower point in a gorge—which he felt sure existed on his left—to cross over and rejoin him. The path he now followed was clear and well defined, and led by a spur over the Cordillera, or principal chain, which rose in three successive peaks as they advanced. The ascent was very steep, being in many places as much as fifty and sixty degrees, up which the men were frequently compelled to pull themselves by trees. As they were without water, and heavily laden, this proved very fatiguing. Arriving at the summit of the first peak, Strain ordered a halt, hoping that the missing party might come up. In the mean time Edward Lombard, a seaman of the Cyane, climbed a tree to reconnoitre the country, but reported nothing but mountains and hills in every direction. Following the Indian trail, at a quarter past one, p.m., the party arrived at a small stream running to the westward. The men, suffering from thirst, stooped down to this, and took long and hearty draughts of water. They then laid aside their arms, blankets, and haversacks, and sat down to wait for the absentees, who were expected every moment. The sun at length stooping behind the tropical forest, and no signs of their arrival, Strain ordered a fire to be made, and went into camp. After eating a scanty supper, he seated himself at a point where the Indian trail entered the gorge, and watched long and anxiously for the arrival of the missing men. The shadows of night gathered over him there, yet he still waited until a late hour, when he stretched himself on his blanket in painful suspense as to their whereabouts.
Early in the morning he sent scouts across the mountain, to see if they had not crossed higher up on the Caledonia, and reached the river valley which he was confident must exist on the other side. At half past nine they all returned, unsuccessful, but reported having found a large stream, which they believed united with that on which they then were, which afterward proved to be the fact.
Deeply solicitous as Strain was about the absent men who had been intrusted to his care, and for whom he was in a great measure responsible, he felt the obligation also not to make any delays that should endanger those still under his command nor the success of the expedition, and at ten o'clock gave the welcome order to move forward. Keeping in view this river to its junction with the Sucubti, they followed the latter in its rough and tortuous course, struggling over huge boulders and masses of stones rolled together by the torrent, and which rendered the way almost impassable. Dangerous rapids also intersected their path, skirted by precipitous banks, along and up which, heavily laden, they scrambled with great difficulty, until at last, fatigued and hungry, they encamped at five o'clock at the mouth of a small stream, having made in all not more than eight or nine miles. All day long, whenever they struck a sandy reach, they found fresh Indian tracks always in advance, but as there appeared to be only two men, and they accompanied by a dog, Strain felt no anxiety, as he knew their strategy never admits of a dog on a war-path. On the morning of the 24th, at nine, a.m., they left their bivouac and proceeded down the bed of the river, occasionally pursuing the banks when it was deep or impassable from falls or boulders. The trail of the two Indians and dog was still very distinct, and it was evident that they had slept in the immediate vicinity of the last night's camp. About eleven o'clock, while wading down the bed of the river, a smoke was seen rising through the trees, and immediately the quick order, "Close up," passed down the line. Soon after, Strain commanded a halt, and advancing alone, mounted the left bank, and found an Indian hut, apparently just abandoned, and on fire; the roof had already fallen in, while the joists and timbers were slowly burning and crackling in the still air. Two other houses on the opposite bank were also in flames. Strain immediately crossed over, and found that, as in the first, all the stools, pots, and other utensils were left a prey to the flames, but their arms and clothing had been taken away. While examining these two houses, Mr. Castilla, the New Granadian commissioner, came up the bank, and seeing a bunch of plantains hanging on a rafter, reached up to take them; but Strain stopped him, declaring that he had promised to respect private property religiously, and was determined to give the Indians no excuse whatever for assailing his party. This destruction of their property looked ominous, and could be construed in no way, except as an evidence of hostility; and Strain now began to anticipate a gathering among them, and an attack at some favorable point in advance. He therefore ordered the men to re-examine their arms carefully, and march in close order. Still leading his little band, he kept on the difficult path, expecting every instant, for hours, a shower of arrows upon his party. He, of course, would be the first victim; and he confessed afterward that he remembered the account given by a comrade in Texas, of the sensation the latter once experienced with two arrows in his body, and the remembrance made him squirm. But compact and silent they kept down the river, generally wading in its bed, and where the water was too deep, selecting the bank which appeared less densely wooded, and always, when practicable, following the trail of the two Indians and their dog. Strain carried twenty or thirty pounds more than any other member of the party; and Castilla, the
