Camping in So\ith America 
By FRANCIS C. NICHOLAS 
II —Night in the Forest 
O UR camp was not finished, and night hav¬ 
ing fully come, it looked as though we 
would have to sleep in the open; a 
phase of life in the woods which I had learned 
to dread, for during more than one night in the 
tropics I have lain out in the rain, protected only 
by a tolda, the mosquito bar of the country, and 
there are a great many other situations which 
are much more enjoyable. 
Lopez looked at the sky when we had made 
a little clearing for our camp, and said, “No rain 
to-night.” 
Hearing this, Viejo looked at him doubtfully 
saying, “But if it should come what would the 
Senor Doctor do?” 
Scorn was in Lopez’ face. He was a cynical 
old man; I could see that as he said, “Rain in 
the dry season with the moon at half full!” and 
Viejo was suppressed, but he was cast down 
for only a moment. Here was a whole long 
night just beginning and nothing to do but rest. 
Darkness was around us stretching beyond the 
light of our camp-fire in mysterious recesses 
against which the nearer trees stood in bold out¬ 
line illuminated by the crackling flames, for the 
men kept replenishing the fire, and at times 
glanced furtively out into the darkness. Above 
us the palm leaves met in graceful curves, and 
a little to one side was the clearing where our 
camp would be. We all sat under the palm 
trees, grateful for the protection. They were at 
least a shelter from the dew, which was now 
falling so copiously that a damp chill filled the 
air, and by morning all the exposed places would 
be moist, while from one of the great palm 
leaves water would be dripping. 
We talked together planning for to-morrow’s 
work, the men continuing watchful, and some¬ 
times even Lopez would stop in the middle of 
a sentence and glance out into the darkness for 
a moment. That instant I noticed a light, like 
an eye of fire, appear and disappear in the dark¬ 
ness. “What was that?” I cried, starting to my 
feet and pointing out into the night. 
Instantly the men sprang from their seats, 
weapons in hand. Then a strange buzzing sound 
came, and the burning eye appeared again, cir¬ 
cled about, came directly toward us, and a great 
insect flew into camp, attracted by the light of 
our fire. 
“Only a cucuyo,” Viejo said. Then all the 
men laughed, a nervous laugh, however. Evi¬ 
dently there was something to dread, not exactly 
fear, only a feeling of anxiety. While they 
were resuming their seats the boy caught the 
insect and brought it to me, a fine specimen of 
the great fire beetle of South America, a variety 
of Pyrophorus, which at times is so abundant 
at the foot of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta 
that at night the silent aisles of darkness among 
the great trees are brilliant with flashing sparks 
of phosphorescent light gleaming in luminous 
green to fiery red. 
That evening we had had many of these 
strange visitors about our camp, though they were 
not so abundant as I found them later in the 
season, when they were almost a nuisance, flying 
about our faces and getting in our food; but 
so beautiful a thing could never be a real nuis¬ 
ance, and we never tired of the peculiar beauty 
of their swift flight, illuminated with brilliant 
flashes. 
Our open camp was very pleasant that night. 
A couch of great palm leaves had been arranged 
for me, and half sitting, half lying down, I 
watched the night and listened to the men talk¬ 
ing together and laughing over the latest gossip 
of their village or discussing life in the wood¬ 
lands. War, or peace, or deaths of kings might 
occupy the attention of the outer world un¬ 
known to us. It mattered little away out there 
in the woods. The dogs were contentedly gnaw¬ 
ing at the agouti bones; everything was tran¬ 
quilly beautiful, but I wished the men would not 
glance so anxiously out into the darkness. The 
least unusual noise, and startled faces were 
watching in that direction. I fell to wondering 
what the danger might be, and regretted that I 
had not stopped work earlier in order that a 
secure camp might be finished. 
“Lopez,” I said, “what is it?” when the men 
had stopped their conversation again as an ani¬ 
mal of some kind was heard passing the camp, 
and the boy ran to pile more wood on the fire. 
Lopez looked at me an instant and then said, 
"The crowned lion (Icon coronado) may be 
prowling about, and no one ever escapes him.” 
“The crowned burro!” I replied. “There is 
no such thing as a crowned lion.” 
1 he men looked at me in anxious surprise 
and Lopez said, “The Senor Doctor must know, 
but I have seen the animal and many people go 
to the woods and never come back again.” 
“Yes, and I, I have heard it,” Viejo said. 
“Not a whine like a panther or a choking roar 
like a jaguar, but a rumbling sound in the 
woods, in the air, all about you, and he keeps 
it up and keeps it up till anyone would be fright¬ 
ened.” 
"Yes, and jaguars and panthers at night,” and 
with a shiver the little boy crept closer to me, 
looking significantly at my pistol. 
It did seem a little bit helpless to be there in 
the jungle with nothing between us and the 
night in the great dark woods. Then in a 
subdued voice Lopez began an account of the 
crowned lion. “It lives,” he said, “only in the 
highest mountains, but at night time may appear 
anywhere and attack people. Some think it is 
the devil in the form of an animal, and this may 
be true, for since we repaired the church at 
Dibulla and put in the bell which each night 
rings at sunset to scare away the devil, we have 
not heard the crowned lion. The priests are 
exacting and arrogant, but it is not safe to live 
without them. 
“This beast, of which I am telling you—or 
devil if so it is—has a form like a panther 
with head and shoulders greater than a jaguar. 
For myself I do not think it is the devil taken 
that form, unless he takes the same form in dif¬ 
ferent places, for the beasts seem to have 
ranges which they keep, each one to his own. 
There are two in these mountains, one on the 
north side and one on the south. When I was 
a boy there were three, but they fought, and 
now only two remain. The beast on our side 
of the mountain is, I should say, much larger 
according to what the Indians tell of the animal 
in their part of the mountains. 
“When I saw it, night was coming on and 
the beast was preparing for its marauding. For¬ 
tunately a house was near or he would surely 
have caught me. The air was so clear that I 
could see distinctly that it was a brute of un¬ 
usual strength and size, the weight of its body 
being greatest in front, the head large, and the 
hair longer at the neck where it stood up like 
a crown or ruff. The color was tawny, as that 
of a red bull, but not so bright, and across the 
shoulders were three or four brindled stripes. 
It stood looking down over the mountains, and 
then, showing great white teeth like knife blades, 
gave a roar beginning in a bubbling sound and 
ending in a sound like thunder as it opened its 
mouth; then it seemed to check the sound by 
swallowing it all. There was a ravine between 
me and the beast, but in spite of the protection 
I did not wait to see more. Perhaps it might 
even leap the ravine, so I ran for the house, 
seeking shelter where I and the family waited 
trembling all night till the morning.” 
Lopez, ’ I said, “I think you were drinking 
strong rum;” and then I was sorry, for the old 
man appeared hurt and offended. He was the 
great authority on woodcraft in all that coun¬ 
try, and to express doubts in regard to his 
stories was something unheard of, so I hastily 
