238 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. 



unwelcome pursuers. At first they cursed us and paddled 

 furiously, but their tipsy efforts were no match for our lithe 

 red-men and the negroes soon dropped out of sight and 

 hearing. 



There was no moon but throughout all the night when- 

 ever we awoke, the southern cross gleamed brilliantly down 

 at us, and almost in the zenith Orion stood ever poised in his 

 gigantic stride. As usual frogs and toads furnished most 

 of the nocturnal music, and we spent an hour or more in 

 classifying the various utterances. Among them was the 

 Telegraph Toad who spoke in a regular make-and-break 

 Morse code, sending his wireless messages to his mate. 

 Another, heard more rarely, was what we called the Wing- 

 beat Frog. This species gave out a muffled throbbing roar 

 like the hurried wing-beats of a Swan in full flight.' It would 

 last for five seconds, to be answered instantly by another 

 across the river. 



From the wonderland of the narrow Biara, we had come 

 out upon the boundless expanse of the ocean, passing thence 

 to this splendid river a half mile across. But we had far 

 from finished the experiences and variety of this ever-to-be 

 remembered trip. 



At daybreak we pushed through a tangled mass of lilies 

 and water hyacinths into a tiny cano or creek, and in a 

 soft rain, while the tired Indians slept beneath protecting 

 palm leaves, we cooked erbswurst and cocoa. The morning 

 chorus was infinitely sweet, from flocks of invisible song- 

 sters, a trembling descending chord of three notes, rising 

 at the end in a plaintive, questioning way. 



At eight o'clock we went on again, the Indians apparently 

 perfectly rested after their two hours' sleep. The Pomeroon 

 narrowed to about a hundred yards, mangroves disappeared 

 and mucka-mucka with its oblong, pineapple-like fruit, 

 took their place. Flowers were abundant, white convol- 



