THE SUNSET-BIRD. 41 
Such an one was the little lake above my first camp 
in the mountains. Twenty-three hundred feet above 
the sea, right in the’crest of the mountain-ridge, sur- 
rounded by the most wonderful vegetation ever be- 
held by man, it reposed in solitude. On all sides but 
one the hills rose above it, dipping toward it and 
forming a hollow through which rushed the trade- 
winds from the Atlantic to the Caribbean Sea. The 
trail leading from sea to ocean passed near it, and 
a cave, hollowed from a clayey bank, gave shelter 
from rains to the passers-by and to the people from 
the coast who sometimes came marooning here. A 
tree-fern, between path and lake, arose above the 
matted carpet of wild plants beneath. 
From my permanent camp I frequently went out 
into the forest for days, taking with me a young 
Indian as porter and guide. Leaving this mountain 
lake, one day, we took a little-used trail along the 
ridge to the northward. Late in the afternoon we 
came to another solitary lake, ringed round with giant 
trees. To my surprise, my guide at once made prepa- 
rations for a camp, or an ajoupa, as he called the 
primitive structure hastily erected every night to shel- 
ter us from the damp. ° 
Darkness settles swiftly in these tropic forests. No 
sooner is the sun down than night is upon you; con- 
sequently we always camped as soon as the sun had 
set, for traveling after dark in these wilds is a thing 
impossible. 
I objected to camping then, thinking we had at 
least another hour of daylight, though I could not 
tell, the forest was so dense, when he quickly de- 
manded: “ What! you no hear the sunset?” | 
