A MONKEY HUNT IN THE MOUNTAINS. 271 
hole in it, an inch or so in diameter, where the monkey 
had thrust in his hand to scoop out the pulp. They 
gather the nutmegs also, but after biting the shell 
throw them away, not liking them. Yet they repeat 
this every time they visit a grove. 
The man decided it was better to leave the place 
till morning, and I yielded to his superior knowledge 
of monkeys, though I could not refrain asking why it 
was not as well to wait for them then. He turned 
upon me with: “You know macaque, ou7! He heah 
now, and den he no heah; umph!” Throughout 
Grenada the natives speak French patois, and even 
those who claim to speak English cannot avoid giv- 
ing utterance to a French word now and then. 
We returned to the house, where I passed another 
wearisome night. People from St. George’s passed in 
the evening on their way to La Bay, a distance of 
fourteen miles, carrying loads on their heads sufficient 
to stagger an Irish laborer. From a woman who 
came up from the negro village of Delphi I bought a 
Carib basket; this art of basket-weaving having 
survived the Indians who practiced and taught it. 
The plant from which the baskets are made grows in 
the deep woods —a slender, reed-like shaft, with a 
coronal of leaves about a foot in length. 
A man shouted out to us at dark, as he passed, that 
a whole troop of monkeys came down to his grounds 
near his cacao, where he might have shot one had he 
tried ; and a woman also stopped and told us that an- 
other troop had been feasting on the “ mammee trees ” 
near her grounds, a few miles distant. Just before 
dark, our dog rushed out and barked furiously at 
something in a tall parrot-apple tree in the basin below 
