“Nonsense,” whispered Martin uneasily.

“It’s dramin’ I must have been,” sighed Barney, resuming his pipe.

Again the ground heaved and cracked, and Martin and the old trader had just time to spring to their feet when the mud floor of the hut burst upwards and a huge dried-up-looking alligator crawled forth, as if from the bowels of the earth!  It glanced up at Barney; opened its tremendous jaws, and made as if it would run at the terrified old trader; then, observing the doorway, it waddled out, and, trundling down the bank, plunged into the river and disappeared.

Barney could find no words to express his feelings, but continued to gaze with an unbelieving expression down into the hole out of which the monster had come, and in which it had buried itself many weeks before, when the whole country was covered with soft mud.  At that time it had probably regarded the shelter of the inundated hut as of some advantage, and had lain down to repose.  The water retiring had left it there buried, and—­as we have already mentioned in reference to alligators—­when the first shower of the rainy season fell it was led by instinct to burst its earthy prison, and seek its native element.

Before Barney or his companions could recover from their surprise, they had other and more urgent matters to think about.  The dark clouds burst overhead, and the rain descended like a continued water-spout,—­not in drops but in heavy sheets and masses; the roof of the hut gave way in several places, driving them into a corner for shelter; the river began to rise rapidly, soon flooding the hut; and, when darkness overspread the land, they found themselves drenched to the skin and suspended in their hammocks over a running stream of water!

This event brought about an entire change in the aspect of nature, and was the cause of a sad and momentous era in the adventures of Martin Rattler and his companion.

CHAPTER XVII

THE CAPO—­INTERRUPTIONS—­GRAMPUS AND MARMOSET—­CANOEING IN THE WOODS—­A NIGHT ON A FLOATING ISLAND

There is a peculiar and very striking feature in the character of the great Amazon, which affects the distinctive appearance of that river and materially alters the manners and customs of those who dwell beside it.  This peculiarity is the periodical overflow of its low banks; and the part thus overflowed is called the Gapo.  It extends from a little above the town of San-tarem up to the confines of Peru, a distance of about seventeen hundred miles; and varies in width from one to twenty miles:  so that the country when inundated assumes in many places the appearance of an extensive lake with forest trees growing out of the water; and travellers may proceed many hundreds of miles in their canoes without once entering the main stream of the river.  At this time the natives become almost aquatic animals.  Several tribes of Indians inhabit the Gapo; such as the Purupurus, Muras; and others.  They build small movable huts on the sandy shores during the dry season, and on rafts in the wet They subsist on turtle, cow-fish, and the other fish with which the river abounds, and live almost entirely in their canoes; while at night they frequently sling their hammocks between the branches of trees and sleep suspended over the deep water.