A HUNT FOR HOATZINS 101 



tied to place on board their contribution to the 

 world's commerce: tomatoes no larger than 

 cherries, in beautifully woven baskets ; a crate of 

 chickens or young turkeys; a live sheep protest- 

 ing and entangled in the spokes of an old- 

 fashioned bicycle; a box of fish, flashing silver 

 and old rose. Some had only a single bundle 

 of fodder to offer. At one station, quaintly 

 named De Kinderen, a clear-faced coolie boy 

 pushed a small bunch of plantains into the 

 freight van, then sat on the steps. As the train 

 started to move he settled himself as if for a 

 long ride, and for a second or two closed his 

 eyes. Then he opened them, climbed down, and 

 swung off into the last bit of clearing. His face 

 was sober, not a-smile at a thoughtless lark. I 

 looked at his little back as he trudged toward 

 his home, and wondered what desire for travel, 

 for a glimpse of the world, was back of it all. 

 And I wished that I could have asked him about 

 it and taken him with me. This little narrow- 

 gauge link with the outside world perhaps scat- 

 ters heartaches as well as shekels along its right 

 of way. 



I was watching a flock of giant anis, which 

 bubbled cheerfully on their slow flight across 



