HAMMOCK NIGHTS 228 
and so inevitably. But from hidden places and 
cool shadows come broken sounds and whisper- 
ings, which cover the gamut from insects to 
mammals and unite to make a drowsy and con- 
tented murmuring—a musical undertone of 
amity and goodwill. For pursuit and killing 
are at the lowest ebb, the stifling heat being the 
flag of truce in the world-wide struggle for life 
and food and mate—a struggle which halts for 
naught else, day or night. 
Lying quietly, the confidence of every uncon- 
ventional and adventurous wanderer will in- 
clude your couch, since courage is a natural vir- 
tue when the spirit of friendliness is abroad in 
the land. I felt that I had acquired merit that 
eventful day when a pair of hummingbirds— 
thimblefuls of fluff with flaming breastplates and 
caps of gold—looked upon me with such favor 
that they made the strands of my hamaca their 
boudoir. I was not conscious of their designs 
upon me until I saw them whirring toward me, 
two bright, swiftly moving atoms, glowing like 
tiny meteors, humming like a very battalion of 
bees. They betook themselves to two chosen 
cords and, close together, settled themselves with 
no further demands upon existence. A hundred 
