That the Cross is nearly perpendicular when it passes the meridian is known to all who inhabit the Tropics. It has been observed at which hour of the night, in different seasons, the Cross is erect or inclined. How often have we heard our guides exclaim in the savannahs of Venezuela or in the desert stretching from Lima to Trujillo, 'Midnight is past, the Cross begins to bend! How those words reminded me of that moving scene where Paul and Virginie, seated near the source of the river Lataniers, chat together for the last time, and where the old man, at the sight of the Southern Cross, warns them that it is time to separate!

Around three in the morning, lit by the dismal light of a few pine torches, we set off for the summit of the Piton. We began the ascent from the northern side, which is extremely steep. After two hours we reached a small plateau, named Alta Vista because. of its height. The neveros, those natives who collect ice and snow to sell in the nearby towns, reach as far as this point. Their mules, better trained to climb than those hired by travelers, reach Alta Vista. The neveros then have to carry the collected snow on their shoulders as they go down. Beyond this point the malpaís begins. This term, in use in Mexico, Peru and all places where there are volcanoes, refers to regions stripped of vegetation and covered in lava fragments.

We frequently visited a small farm called the Conuco de Bermúdez, situated opposite the Cuchivano crevice. In its moist soil grow bananas, tobacco and several species of cotton trees, especially the one whose cotton is wild nankeen yellow, so common on Margarita Island The owner told us that the ravine was inhabited by jaguars. These animals spend the day in caverns and prowl around human settlements at night. If well fed they reach some 6 feet in length. A year before, one of these cats had devoured a farm horse. In clear moonlight he dragged his prey across the savannah to the foot of an enormous ceiba. The neighing of the dying horse woke up the farm slaves. Armed with lances and machetes (51) they rushed out in the middle of the night. The jaguar, stretched over its victim, waited quietly, and was killed only after a long and stubborn fight. This fact, and many others verified on the spot, prove that the great jaguar of Terra Firma (Felis onca), like the jaguarete of Paraguay and the Asian tiger, does not run away when attacked by man, and is not scared by the number of his enemy. Naturalists today know that Buffon (52) completely failed to recognize the greatest of American cats. What this famous writer says about the cowardice of tigers in the New World relates to the small ocelots (Felis pardalis). In the Orinoco, the American jaguar sometimes leaps into the water to attack Indians in their canoes.

A few minutes before the first shock there was a violent gust of wind, accompanied by flashes of lightning and large raindrops. The sky remained covered; after the storm the wind died down, staying quiet all night. The sunset was extraordinarily beautiful. The thick veil of clouds tore open into strips just above the horizon, forming shreds, and the sun shone at 12 degrees of altitude against an indigo-blue sky. Its disc appeared incredibly swollen, distorted and wavy at its edges. The clouds were gilded, and clusters of rays colored like the rainbow spread in every direction from its center. A great crowd had congregated in the main square. This phenomenon, the accompanying earthquake, thunder rolling as the earth shook, and that reddish mist lasting so many days were blamed on the eclipse.

Guanaguana still does not have a church. The old priest, who had lived for more than thirty years in the American jungles, pointed out that the community's money, meaning the product of the Indians' work, should first be spent on building the missionary house; secondly on building a church; and lastly on their clothes. He seriously insisted that this order could not be altered on any account. The Indians can wait their turn as they prefer walking around completely naked to wearing the scantiest clothes. The spacious padre's house had just been finished and we noted with surprise that the terraced roof was decorated with a great number of chimneys that looked like turrets. Our host told us that this was done to remind him of his Aragonese winters, despite the tropical heat. The Guanaguana Indians grow cotton for themselves, the church and the missionary. The produce is supposed to belong to the community; it is with this communal money that the needs of the priest and altar are looked after. They have simple machines that separate the seed from the plant. Wooden cylinders of tiny diameter between which the cotton passes are activated, like a spinning-wheel, by pedals. However, these primitive machines are very useful and other missions are beginning to imitate them. But here, as in all places where nature's fertility hinders the development of industry, only a few hectares are converted into cultivated land, and nobody thinks of changing that cultivation into one of alimentary plants. Famine is felt each time the maize harvest is lost to a long drought. The Guanaguana Indians told us an amazing story that happened the year before when they went off with their women and children and spent three months al monte, that is, wandering about in the neighboring jungle and living off juicy plants, palm cabbages, fern roots and wild fruit. They did not speak of this nomadic state as one of deprivation. Only the missionary lost out because his village was left completely abandoned, and the community members, when they returned from the woods, appeared to be less docile than before.