His heavy shoes made the gravel on the
bed crunch beneath him. He was in some ten or fifteen feet of water,
at the base of the cliff, which was here very steep, and at the very
spot where Torres had disappeared.
Near him was a tangled mass of reeds and twigs and aquatic plants,
all laced together, which assuredly during the researches of the
previous day no pole could have penetrated. It was consequently
possible that the body was entangled among the submarine shrubs, and
still in the place where it had originally fallen.
Hereabouts, thanks to the eddy produced by the prolongation of one of
the spurs running out into the stream, the current was absolutely
_nil_. Benito guided his movements by those of the raft, which the
long poles of the Indians kept just over his head.
The light penetrated deep through the clear waters, and the
magnificent sun, shining in a cloudless sky, shot its rays down into
them unchecked. Under ordinary conditions, at a depth of some twenty
feet in water, the view becomes exceedingly blurred, but here the
waters seemed to be impregnated with a luminous fluid, and Benito was
able to descend still lower without the darkness concealing the river
bed.
Pages:
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369