He lost his way. "At first," he
says, "I got on very well, as there were little paths through the canes,
made, as I imagined, by the natives; and although I was up to my knees
in thick black mud, I continued to get on pretty fast; but at last the
canes grew so thick that I could hardly force my way through them, and
it was a work of exceeding labor. Still I persevered, expecting each
second I should arrive at the banks of the river, and be rewarded for my
fatigue; but the more I labored the worse it appeared for me, and at
last I became worn out and quite bewildered. I then tried to find my way
back, and was equally unsuccessful, when I sat down with any thing but
pleasant thoughts in my mind. I calculated that I had been two hours in
making this attempt, and was now quite puzzled how to proceed. I
bitterly lamented my rashness, now that it was too late. Having reposed
a little, I resumed my toil, and again, after an hour's exertion, was
compelled, from fatigue, to sit down in the deep black mud. Another
respite from toil and another hour more of exertion, and I gave myself
up for lost. The day was evidently fast closing in, the light over head
was not near so bright as it had been, and I knew that a night passed in
the miasma of the cane swamp was death. At last it became darker and
darker. There could not be an hour of daylight remaining. I determined
upon one struggle more, and reeking as I was with perspiration, and
faint with fatigue, I rose again, and was forcing my way through the
thickest of the canes, when I heard a deep growl, and perceived a large
panther not twenty yards from me.
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