A WILDERNESS LABORATORY 161 



the east was a splendor of forest fires and 

 minarets, great golden castles and pale-green 

 dragons and snow-capped mountains all con- 

 ceived and molded from glorious tumbled cloud- 

 masses, and ultimately melting back into them 

 again. The moriche orioles met the beauty of 

 the heavens with their silver notes, and as the 

 sky cooled, there arose the sweet, trilled cadence 

 of the little tinamou heralding the voices of 

 night. The silvery collared nighthawks began 

 their eternal questioning who-are-you! who-are- 

 youl and the coolness banished all thought of 

 the blistering sunshine now pouring down upon 

 the waters of the Pacific. 



Not until later, when the night-life was fairly 

 under way, and all the beings of the sun hidden 

 and asleep, did the deep bass rumble of the big 

 toads commence, and the tinkling chorus of the 

 little frogs. Last of all came the essence of the 

 nocturnal the sound furthest removed from 

 day. All other voices seemed to become for an 

 instant hushed, and the poor-me-one spoke a 

 wail which rose, trembled, and broke into a 

 .falling cadence of hopeless sighs. 



And now, with the crescent moon writing its 

 heliograph cipher upon the water, a new sound 



