202 EDGE OF THE JUNGLE 
yond the reach of crawling tick and looping 
leech; and with an enveloping mosquitaro, or 
mosquito shirt, as the Venezuelans call it, one 
is fortified even in the worst haunts of these most 
disturbing of all pests. 
Once my ring rope slipped and the hammock 
settled, but not enough to wake me up and force 
me to set it to rights. I was aware that some- 
thing had gone wrong, but, half asleep, I pre- 
ferred to leave the matter in the lap of the gods. 
Later, as a result, I was awakened several times 
by the patting of tiny paws against my body, 
as small jungle-folk, standing on their hind-legs, 
essayed to solve the mystery of the swaying, 
silent, bulging affair directly overhead. I was 
unlike any tree or branch or liana which had 
come their way before; I do not doubt that they 
thought me some new kind of ant-nest, since 
these structures are alike only as their purpose 
in life is identical—for they: express every pos- 
sible variation in shape, size, color, design, and 
position. As for their curiosity, I could make 
no complaint, for, at best, my visitors could not 
be so inquisitive as I, inasmuch as I had crossed 
one ocean and two continents with no greater 
object than to pry into their personal and civic 
