THE SUNSET-BIRD. 41 



Such an one was the little lake above my first camp 

 in the mountains. Twenty-three hundred feet above 

 the sea, right in the crest of the mountain-ridge, sur- 

 rounded by the most wonderful vegetation ever be- 

 held by man, it reposed in solitude. On all sides but 

 one the hills rose above it, dipping toward it and 

 forming a hollow through which rushed the trade- 

 winds from the Atlantic to the Caribbean Sea. The 

 trail leading from sea to ocean passed near it, and 

 a cave, hollowed from a clayey bank, gave shelter 

 from rains to the passers-by and to the people from 

 the coast who sometimes came marooning here. A 

 tree-fern, between path and lake, arose above the 

 matted carpet of wild plants beneath. 



From my permanent camp I frequently went out 

 into the forest for days, taking with me a young 

 Indian as porter and guide. Leaving this mountain 

 lake, one day, we took a little-used trail along the 

 ridge to the northward. Late in the afternoon we 

 came to another solitary lake, ringed round with giant 

 trees. To my surprise, my guide at once made prepa- 

 rations for a camp, or an ajoupa, as he called the 

 primitive structure hastily erected every night to shel- 

 ter us from the damp. 



Darkness settles swiftly in these tropic forests. No 

 sooner is the sun down than night is upon you ; con- 

 sequently we always camped as soon as the sun had 

 set, for traveling after dark in these wilds is a thing 

 impossible. 



I objected to camping then, thinking we had at 

 least another hour of daylight, though I could not 

 tell, the forest was so dense, when he quickly de- 

 manded : "What ! vou no hear the sunset?" 



