CHAPTER III. 



A STEP-CHILD OF NATURE. 



The evergreen hill-forests that cover the border-states 

 of Southern Mexico harbor an amazing number of noisy- 

 birds and quadrupeds. All night long the jungles re- 

 sound with the scream of the tree-panther and the 

 plaintive cry of the mono espectro, or ghost-monkey, 

 trumpet-voiced cranes call to each other from the cane- 

 brakes, and the deep-mouthed cave-owl booms from the 

 upland thickets. At the first glimmering of dawn the 

 jungle-pheasant sounds his reveille, and long before 

 sunrise the woods burst into a universal chorus of bird- 

 voices, often accompanied by the drumming croak of 

 the tamandua or the flute-signals of the gregarious 

 spider-monkey. 



The only pause of the many-voiced concert occurs 

 during the thermal noon, in the first two or three hours 

 after mid-day. In May and June — the dog-days of the 

 northern tropics — even insects need a siesta. When the 

 summer sun reaches the meridian, every animal dis- 

 appears, and there are minutes when the stillness be- 

 comes breathless : the very air seems to stagnate ; the 



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