MY FIRST CAMP. 33 



familiar tree or shrub, I began to look about me 

 sharply. Though I had noted the direction in my 



miners eye when shown the tree, I overshot- it 

 in my search and got farther down. A group 

 of tree-ferns I remembered ; farther on, across a 

 brook, was a large rock — all right; but where was 

 the ants' nest in a dead tree that I had especially 

 noted? To understand why all my landmarks were 

 small and insignificant, the reader must be informed 

 that in these woods the trees are so large and shoot 

 up so high that their crowns afford no means of identi- 

 fying them ; and all their trunks are so much alike, 

 enveloped in masses of vines and ferns, that other ob- 

 jects must be chosen to guide the hunter in his rambles 

 here. Under thick foliage I went, until the roar of 

 the large waterfall came up to me, and I knew I 

 must retrace my steps, as the tree was on the ridge 

 between the two streams. 



At once I was stopped by seeing on the ground be- 

 fore me scattered shreds of jlguier fruit, and looking 

 up, saw the tree above me. As I had approached 

 from the side opposite to that of my first visit, its sur- 

 roundings had seemed changed. The rain came 

 down in torrents, but glanced harmlessly from my 

 poncho. It was tiresome waiting, but I secured all I 

 wanted of the grives and went back to the main trail 

 leading to the Boiling Lake, and sat down on a 

 rock in a more open part of the forest, to try to 

 secure a few humming-birds. The rain had ceased, 

 and the sun was shining outside. Yielding to the 

 overpowering influence of silence and solitude, I 

 was indulging in a day-dream, when a voice awoke 

 me : 



3 



