Kua-ko was not such a bad companion after all--that he was not
without imagination. But in spite of my laughter his words
roused my interest and suggested the idea that the voice I was
curious about had been heard by the Indians and was as great a
mystery to them as to me; since, not being like that of any
creature known to them, it would be attributed by their
superstitious minds to one of the numerous demons or semi-human
monsters inhabiting every forest, stream, and mountain; and fear
of it would drive them from the wood. In this case, judging from
my companion's words, they had varied the form of the
superstition somewhat, inventing a daughter of a water-spirit to
be afraid of. My thought was that if their keen, practiced eyes
had never been able to see this flitting woodland creature with a
musical soul, it was not likely that I would succeed in my quest.

I began to question him, but he now appeared less inclined to
talk and more frightened than ever, and each time I attempted to
speak he imposed silence, with a quick gesture of alarm, while he
continued to stare about him with dilated eyes. All at once he
sprang to his feet as if overcome with terror and started running
at full speed. His fear infected me, and, springing up, I
followed as fast as I could, but he was far ahead of me, running
for dear life; and before I had gone forty yards my feet were
caught in a creeper trailing along the surface, and I measured my
length on the ground. The sudden, violent shock almost took away
my senses for a moment, but when I jumped up and stared round to
see no unspeakable monster--Curupita or other--rushing on to slay
and devour me there and then, I began to feel ashamed of my
cowardice; and in the end I turned and walked back to the spot I
had just quitted and sat down once more. I even tried to hum a