MY FIRST CAMP. 33 
familiar tree or shrub, I began to look about me 
sharply. Though I had noted the direction in my 
mind’s eye when shown the tree, I overshot it 
in my search and got farther down. A group 
of tree-ferns I remembered; farther on, across a 
brook, was a large rock — all right; but where was 
the ants’ nest in a dead tree that I had especially 
noted? ‘To understand why all my landmarks were 
small and insignificant, the reader must be informed 
that in these woods the trees are so large and shoot 
up so high that their crowns afford no means of identi- 
fying them; and all their trunks are so much alike, 
enveloped in masses of vines and ferns, that other ob- 
jects must be chosen to guide the hunter in his rambles 
here. Under thick. foliage I went, until the roar of 
the large waterfall came up to me, and I knew I 
‘must retrace my steps, as the tree was on the ridge 
between the two streams. 
At once I waf stopped by seeing on the ground be- 
fore me-scattered shreds of fguzer fruit, and looking 
up, saw the tree above me. As I had approached 
from the side opposite to that of my first visit, its sur- 
roundings had seemed changed. The rain came 
down in torrents, but glanced harmlessly from my 
poncho. It was tiresome waiting, but I secured all I 
wanted of the grives and went back to the main trail 
leading to the Boiling Lake, and sat down on a 
rock in a more open part of the forest, to try to 
secure a few humming-birds. The rain had ceased, 
and the sun was shining outside. Yielding to the 
overpowering influence of silence and solitude, I 
was indulging in a day-dream, when a voice awoke 
me: 
3 
