:::;:::::*; THE HOT lands OF the pacific m::::::::: 



of rain fell heavily — the first we had experienced on 

 our trip. 



Flycatchers and other birds were carrying nesting- 

 materials, and renewed activity animated every creature; 

 insects were emerging from chrysalids and eggs on 

 every hand ; but our time was up. Like the passing- 

 migrants, but with the greatest reluctance, we must 

 begin our homeward journey. 



Well is the nestino'-season of the birds in these 

 lowlands protected from man's disturbing hand. The 

 volcano had stirred in its half sleep, the daily drench- 

 ing rains had begun, and a black and silent death had 

 passed us in the night — small-pox had broken out 

 among the Indians near by. If we delayed longer we 

 might be quarantined against the railroad, so we dared 

 not wait. 



As we packed our tents and baggage, a circle of 

 squatting Mexicans and Indians formed around us, 

 and when at last all our belongings were on mule- 

 back there was an eager rush for the odds and ends 

 we had thrown away. Everything must be solemnly 

 wrangled over and fairly divided. One secured my 

 old butterfly-net, another a cast-off ruby lantern, and 

 another a bottle half full of formalin. We tried 

 to impress upon him that if he drank the innocent- 

 looking liquid his head would soon resemble the 

 skull on the label. But he evidently thought he was 

 being cheated out of a good drink, so to remove 



«^. 337 ^ 



