Now we were a hundred feet above that camp and going over mountain brow, going to the north again.

Gone were Caonabo and his Indians; gone the view of the plain and the mountains of Cibao.

Again we met low cliff, long stony ledges sunk in the forest, invisible from below.

I began to see that they would not know how to follow.

Caonabo might know well the mountains of Cibao, but this sierra that was straight behind Guarico, Guarico knew.