my day's ramble, speaking not of the things that had moved my
soul, but only of those which move the Guayana Indian's soul--the
animal food he craves, and which, one would imagine, Nature would
prefer him to do without, so hard he finds it to wrest a
sufficiency from her. To my surprise they shook their heads and
looked troubled at what I said; and finally my host informed me
that the wood I had been in was a dangerous place; that if they
went there to hunt, a great injury would be done to them; and he
finished by advising me not to visit it again.

I began to understand from their looks and the old man's vague
words that their fear of the wood was superstitious. If
dangerous creatures had existed there tigers, or camoodis, or
solitary murderous savages--they would have said so; but when I
pressed them with questions they could only repeat that
"something bad" existed in the place, that animals were abundant
there because no Indian who valued his life dared venture into
it. I replied that unless they gave me some more definite
information I should certainly go again and put myself in the way
of the danger they feared.

My reckless courage, as they considered it, surprised them; but
they had already begun to find out that their superstitions had
no effect on me, that I listened to them as to stories invented
to amuse a child, and for the moment they made no further attempt
to dissuade me.

Next day I returned to the forest of evil report, which had now a
new and even greater charm--the fascination of the unknown and
the mysterious; still, the warning I had received made me