CHAPTER XII 



The Quest of the Firebirds 



After the migration of the land crabs a change seemed to 

 come over the round of hfe on the island. The continual howl 

 of the trade wind slackened; frequent gusts of pattering rain 

 fell, dried in a few hours and fell again. There was not enough 

 moisture to fill the salinas but enough each day to make the 

 air heavy and humid. Mosquitoes began to make their ap- 

 pearance in the evenings, breeding in holes in the rocks where 

 a little water had collected. It was no longer pleasant to go 

 prowling at night in the moonlight or to sit on the rocks by 

 the sea. The great saltpond back of the settlement, which 

 every day had been filled with companies of flamingos and 

 sandpipers, became a great empty space glittering in the glare 

 of the sun. The heat increased and the glare on the white 

 salt was almost intolerable. The sandpipers had gone north on 

 their long migration, disappearing during the night; the fla- 

 mingos had filtered away in twos and threes, heading in small 

 groups for the very center of the island. 



It was then the first of May. A deadly spirit of monotony 

 seemed to pervade the atmosphere. This was particularly 

 noticeable in the settlement. There the only relief was the 

 nightly rehgious orgies of the Daxons; the pulsations of their 

 drums throbbed endlessly through the saddened streets. Be- 

 fore and after these celebrations a few gangs of blacks and 

 mulattoes hung in groups on the deserted corners. There was 

 little gaiety. The groups hushed when I approached, then 

 resumed talking in low tones when I had faded out of sight 

 in the dark. They did not laugh and joke, or play pranks as a 



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