HAMMOCK NIGHTS 209° 
I have learned that it is their pleasure to deluge 
me with rainstorms at unpropitious moments, 
also to send me, with my hammock, to eminently 
desirable countries, which, however, are barren 
of trees and scourged of every respectable shrub. 
That the showers may not find me unprepared, 
I pack with my hamaca an extra length of rope, 
to be stretched taut from foot-post to head-post, 
that a tarpaulin or canvas may be slung over it. 
When a treeless country is presented to me in 
prospect, I have two stout stakes prepared, and 
I do not move forward without them. 
It is a wonderful thing to see an experienced 
hammocker take his stakes, first one, then the 
other, and plunge them into the ground three or 
four times, measuring at one glance the exact 
distance and angle, and securing magically that 
mysterious “give” so essential to well-being and 
comfort. Any one can sink them like fence- 
posts, so that they stand deep and rigid, a re- 
proach and an accusation; but it requires a par- 
ticular skill to judge by the pull whether or not 
they will hold through the night and at the same 
time yield with gentle and supple swing to the 
léast movement of the sleeper. A Carib knows, 
instantly, worthy and unworthy ground. I have 
