Explore "The Bee Hunters" by Gustave Aimard on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The unknown had struck into a dense forest, the last skirts of which dwindled away close to the banks of the Rio Bermejo.
American forests have little resemblance to those of the Old World: in the former, the trees shoot up hap-hazard, crossing and interlacing each other, and sometimes leaving large spaces completely open, strewn with dead trees, uprooted, and piled on each other in the strangest manner.