A MONKEY HUNT IN THE MOUNTAINS. 2973 
the past two years I have been attacked, as it were, 
by them. Instantly they see me they will dart at my 
face, halting only a foot or so from it, or whirl in 
dizzy circles about me. The whir of their wings will 
often startle me, coming unexpectedly from some dark 
thicket in some walled-in river-bed, or from behind 
some great tree-trunk in the high woods. It is always 
in the mountain forest that this happens. I can calla 
few about me at any time, by imitating their excited 
cries; they dart at once to ascertain the cause, with 
sharp, nervous chirps of alarm. Even when they have 
flown right into my face they will not be satisfied, but 
must perch near, and regard me for a while intently. 
If I then move, they dart at me with a chirp of in- 
dignant defiance, and at once disappear. 
The fragrance of the bitten fruit filled the air, and 
insects gathered on the broken skin, but no monkeys 
came to claim the remainder hanging on the tree. 
For nearly an hour a mountain dove had been “ groan- 
ing” near me —the hollow moan they oft reiterate is 
aptly called a groan by the negroes. They have a 
soft, rapid flight, with a hollow sizvr when startled or 
‘surprised in their flight by coming near you and 
suddenly altering their course. 
Eleven o’clock. The sun had long since shone 
through the trees above the cliff, yet the coolness of 
this dense wood was little abated. Birds in the tree- 
tops were shaking down berries now and then, and the 
wind showered down leaves, but no monkeys yet dis- 
turbed the branches above. Lizards leaped from 
bough to bough, climbing up the tree and pattering 
over the leaves; they were pursuing one another 
everywhere, and caused many of the various move- 
18 
