On this occasion, owing to the excessive rains, all
the little mountain streams, which under normal circumstances are of no
inconvenience to travellers, had been converted into veritable roaring
torrents, causing me on more than one occasion to think twice before
attempting a crossing. To condense matters as much as possible, let me
remark that it rained all day; travelling was not only difficult but
positively dangerous, and I, being so ill, could hardly keep my seat on
my mule. All this made travelling so slow that I was still a long way
from "El Injenio," my objective point for the night, when darkness
overtook me. I had the narrow, dangerous paths to go along which I have
already described, and I therefore did not trust to getting over them on
muleback, but took the safer and, in my opinion, more sensible plan of
leading my animal. This was tedious work, but it was to become worse
very soon. I arrived at one of those swollen mountain streams, the
appearance of which in the darkness fairly frightened me. My mule would
not look at it, and for a while I did not know exactly what to do. I
could judge that it was four or five feet deep, and rushing past at a
great rate. Neither mule nor I could ever have hoped to keep our feet if
we had attempted crossing, as it was about thirty feet wide.
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