At length they reached the Land
of Cinnamon, the _Canelas_ of the Spaniards, where were forests of the
trees supposed by them to bear the precious bark. Yet had it been the
actual cinnamon of the East Indies, it would have been useless to them in
that remote and mountain-walled wilderness. Here their journey, as
originally laid out, should have ended, but they were lured on by the
statements of the wild tribes they met, they being told of a rich and
populous land at ten days' journey in advance, in which gold could be
found in abundance.
Gold was a magic word to the Spaniards, and they went eagerly onward, over
a country of broad savannahs which led to seemingly endless forests, where
grew trees of stupendous bulk, some so large that the extended arms of
sixteen men could barely reach around them. A thick net-work of vines and
creepers hung in bright-colored festoons from tree to tree, beautiful to
look at but very difficult to pass. The axe was necessary at every step of
the way, while their garments, rotted with the incessant rains, were torn
into rags by the bushes and brambles of the woodland.
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