4 2 



CAMPS IN THE CARIBBEES. 



I was astonished. "Hear the sunset! No, cer- 

 tainly not ! " 



"Ah, monsieur, me no mean the great sun, le grand 

 soleil, but the bird called the f Sunset-bird,' 'Le Soleil 

 Couchcr.'' " 



Here was a mystery, an object worthy of investi- 

 gation — a bird that acted as the forester's clock, that 

 told him the time to go to bed. At once I proposed 

 to go in search of it ; but my guide piteously pro- 

 tested, declaring that it was a "jumbie-bird," — a bird 

 possessed of the devil, — and that to kill it would not 

 onlv endanger my life, but bring death to the settle- 

 ment. Half an hour before sunset it utters its pecu- 

 liar cry, and half an hour before sunrise ; during the 

 day it is silent. 



"Listen !" said my guide. In a few minutes there 

 rang through the forest a cry weird and mournful, yet 

 having in its notes a resemblance to the words soleil 

 couchcr — the equivalent in patois for sunset. It was 

 repeated by another bird and another, all around the 

 lake, one answering another. In less than half an hour 

 darkness had covered us, and the cries had ceased. 



Grand old trees towered above me, their branches 

 matted together and hung with cable-like vines. In 

 the morning, I listened eagerly for a repetition of the 

 sounds of the night before, and was out and away 

 down to the lake-border with my gun, before my 

 guide was awake, or daylight had made it safe to 

 walk abroad. I was rewarded — "soleil couchcr!" 

 right over my head. Eagerly I gazed, but saw noth- 

 ing. The sound was repeated, and by other birds. 

 In the darkness it was impossible to distinguish any- 

 thing, though never so near. 



