CAPTAIN TUCKEY’S NARRATIVE. 173 
Our night scene here, though entirely dissimilar from the 
preceding one, was perfectly theatrical ; the trees completely 
shading the ravine, and the reflection of the fires on the tent, 
and on the foliage, and on the rocks, with the mixture of 
black and white men, each cooking his supper, might have 
exercised the pen of Salvator Rosa, and would give no bad 
idea of the rendezvous of a horde of banditti. 
In the morning we found we had pitched our tent over a 
nest of pismires ; but although we were covered with them, 
not a person was bitten, any more than by the musquetoes, 
who, from its shade and humidity, had chosen this as their 
head quarters. At day-light we were roused by the discor- 
dant concert of a legion of monkeys and parrots chattering, 
joined with that of a bird named by the natives dooliloso, (a 
crested Toucan) having a scream between the bray of an 
ass and the bleat ofa lamb; another, with a note resembling 
the cuckoo, but much hoarser; and another crying “ whip 
poor will” (a species of goatsucker). We also found that 
several buffaloes had been to drink at one of the holes in the 
rocks, about 200 yards from one of our tents. 
Aug. 23. At seven o’clock (having given the people their 
usual breakfast of cocoa), we set out, and crossed a most 
difficult tract of hills and ravines until 11, when we found 
ourselves just at the angle of the river, formed by its 
