LIFE ON THE LAUNCH. 
151 
wandered about looking for birds and butter¬ 
flies. But the fringe of ground along the edge 
of the monte was very narrow, and behind that 
was a thorny wall it was impossible to get 
through, from which rose clouds of sand¬ 
flies. Suddenly, about 6.30, the sun sank, and 
as suddenly the insects disappeared. The air 
freshened, and throwing back one’s veil one 
breathed in the fragrance of unseen plants in 
the jungle. The frogs set up their evening 
concert, in bass and treble, from the pools 
amongst the tall reeds. Soon it was time to 
paddle back to the launch, and we reached the 
dim form of the Lelia in the dusk, our canoe 
low in the water with the weight of freshly- 
caught fish. By seven we were longing for 
dinner, and Jerman had made us a soup of 
jerked beef and macaroni, with grated cheese 
to add to it. Then dorado again, and bully 
beef and potatoes, and a doubtful kind of pan¬ 
cake of which he was inordinately proud. 
It got dark so quickly that we dined by the 
dim light of a paraffin lamp, which flickered 
on the faces round the table, made mysterious 
caverns of shadow in the corners of the room, 
and strange crouching figures of the coats 
hanging on the walls, and which woke answer¬ 
ing gleams from the rifle barrels slung on the 
pegs and from the slab of looking-glass above 
the improvised dressing table. After dinner 
we put on wraps and sat on deck, smoking and 
