350 THE OU-KA-LA. 
After attentively watching my absurd attempts 
to produce a ringing whistle by placing my 
fingers in my mouth, and blowing through them 
until my face was like an apoplectic coachman’s, a 
smile of intelligence lit up his swarthy visage: 
then I violently dug imaginary holes, and ex- 
plained that the sounds came about twilight; he 
nodded his head, dived into the tent, and dis- 
appeared in the smoke, to shortly emerge again 
with a rug or robe, made from the skins of an 
animal that was quite new to me. 
It was beautifully soft, glossy, and brown. 
The skins were about the size of a large rat’s, and 
about twenty in number. Here, then, was the 
dawn of a discovery. He called the animal Ou- 
ka-la, and made me understand that it lived on 
roots and vegetable matter, and burrowed holes 
in the ground. 
As the daylight faded out, I again took my 
seat; and, just as before, when everything was 
silent, the woods echoed with the Ou-ka-la’s cry. 
I longed for morning, and hardly waited for 
light, but hastened off to my trap; and, joy of 
joys, I had one sure enough, caught by the neck. 
Poor Ou-ka-la! your friends had heard, and you 
had given, your ‘last whistle.’ He was dead and 
cold—trapped, perhaps, whilst I listened won- 
