This was the height of the fall as measured by the eyes of the wanderers,
a guide not much to be relied on. The stream itself had narrowed until it
was at this point not more than twenty feet wide, and the hungry wanderers
determined to cross it, with the hope of finding beyond it a country
yielding more food. A bridge was constructed by felling great trees across
the chasm, the water here running through vertical walls several hundred
feet in depth. Over this rude bridge men and horses made their way, only
one Spaniard being lost by tumbling down the giddy depth.
The country beyond the stream proved no better than that they had left,
and the only signs of inhabitants they met were savage and hostile tribes
of Indians, with whom they kept up a steady skirmish. Some of the more
friendly told them that the fruitful land they sought was but a few days'
journey down the river, and they went wearily on, day by day, as the
promised land still fled before their feet. Doubtless they were led by
their own desires to misinterpret the words of the Indians.
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