HAMMOCK NIGHTS 221 
hammock,—not only the mysteries of the night, 
but the affairs of the day may be legitimately in- 
vestigated from this aerial point of view. It is 
a fetish of belief in hot countries that every un- 
acclimatized white man must, sooner or later, 
succumb to that sacred custom, the siesta. In 
the cool of the day he may work vigorously, but 
this hour of rest is indispensable. To a health- 
ful person, living a reasonable life, the siesta is 
sheer luxury. However, in camp, when the sun 
nears the zenith and the hush which settles over 
the jungle proclaims that most of the wild crea- 
tures are resting, one may swing one’s hammock 
in the very heart of this primitive forest and 
straightway be admitted into a new province, 
where rare and unsuspected experiences are 
open to the wayfarer. This is not the province 
of sleep or dreams, where all things are possible 
and preéminently reasonable; for one does not 
go through sundry hardships and all manner of 
self-denial, only to be blindfolded on the very 
threshold of his ambition. No naturalist of a 
temperament which begrudges every unused 
hour will, for a moment, think of sleep under 
such conditions. It is not true that the rest and 
quiet are necessary to cool the Northern blood 
