At the summit of the pass, there was a clear-running brook, where we rested an hour, and bathed Lizzie in its sweet waters.

We then continued to the end of our journey, and, without going to the tavern at San Juan del Sur, we passed directly to the vessel, then at anchor about two miles out.
To reach her we engaged a native boat, which had to be kept outside the surf.

Mrs.Sherman was first taken in the arms of two stout natives; Mary Lynch, carrying Lizzie, was carried by two others; and I followed, mounted on the back of a strapping fellow, while fifty or a hundred others were running to and fro, cackling like geese.
Mary Lynch got scared at the surf, and began screaming like a fool, when Lizzie became convulsed with fear, and one of the natives rushed to her, caught her out of Mary's arms, and carried her swiftly to Mrs.Sherman, who, by that time, was in the boat, but Lizzie had fainted with fear, and for a long time sobbed as though permanently injured.

For years she showed symptoms that made us believe she had never entirely recovered from the effects of the scare.

In due time we reached the steamer Sierra Nevada, and got a good state-room.