and disappeared again with a slow, graceful movement. Almost every
evening I could hear issuing from the forest a horrible roar. It came
from the farthest depths and seemed as if it might well represent
the mingled cries of some huge bull and a prowling jaguar that had
attacked him unawares. Yet it all came, I found, from one throat,
that of the howling monkey. He will sit alone for hours in a tree-top
and pour forth these dreadful sounds which are well calculated to
make the lonely wanderer stop and light a camp-fire for protection.

On the other hand, is heard the noise of the domestic animals of
the village. Cows, calves, goats, and pigs seemed to make a habit of
exercising their vocal organs thoroughly before retiring. Dogs bark
at the moon; cats chase rats through openings of the palm-leaf roofs,
threatening every moment to fall, pursued and pursuers, down upon the
hammocks. Vampires flutter around from room to room, occasionally
resting on the tops of the iron partitions, and when they halt,
continuing to chirp for a while like hoarse sparrows. Occasionally
there will come out of the darkness of the river a disagreeable
sound as if some huge animal were gasping for its last breath before
suffocating in the mud. The sound has its effect, even upon animals,
coming as it does out of the black mysterious night, warning them not
to venture far for fear some uncanny force may drag them to death in
the dismal waters. It is the night call of the alligator.

The sweet plaintive note of a little partridge, called _inamboo_,
would sometimes tremble through the air and compel me to forget
the spell of unholy sounds arising from the beasts of the jungle and
river. Throughout the evening this amorous bird would call to its mate,
and somewhere there would be an answering call back in the woods. Many
were the nights when, weak with fever, I awoke and listened to their