84 BIG GAME FIELDS 



alien, while the night and surroundings seemed 

 so weird that, for the moment, I did not feel like 

 retiring. Borrowing some of Jack's tobacco that 

 lay on the table, I rolled a cigarette and leaned 

 out of the window. 



The night was beautiful, serene and clear. A 

 languid moon hung listlessly over the savannah, 

 a few nights from the full. The voices that I 

 had grown accustomed to hear rise up out of the 

 jungle night after night were here, for the most 

 part, absent; but they were replaced by other 

 sounds. From far down the stream came the 

 dismal booming* of the alligators, while the frogs, 

 with their bass voices, rose in deep chorus ; then a 

 long-eared owl with fitful song awoke the super- 

 stitutions of the night that froze all the small 

 fry such as the dormouse and field mice to stone, 

 for they well knew their worst enemy was at 

 hand. Then there came another sound that made 

 me stop short in the middle of a puff. I had 

 heard it once before; intently I listened. Pres- 

 ently, through the desolation of the moonlit night, 

 came the distant, vibrating roar of a jaguar. 

 "The very skin I am after," I told myself, "and 

 I'll have his hide before that moon is full!" 



It seemed I had only been in my hammock a 

 very short time when I heard Haley saying, 



