d, without moving from our shady
retreat, which, during the sunnier hours of the day, we dare not desert.

We rise at a very early hour; indeed, it is not yet daylight when our
dark domestic brings us our early cup of cafe noir and cigarettes. After
refreshing our bodies in the natural gigantic bath which flows before
our domicile, we dress: an operation which does not occupy much time, as
our wardrobe consists simply of coloured flannel shirts, brown holland
trousers, Panama hats, and buff-coloured shoes. Thus attired, with
ammunition affixed to our girdles, and guns shouldered, we plunge into
an adjacent thicket in quest of game; the objects of our sport being
chiefly wild guinea-fowl, quails, partridges, and wild pigeons. No game
license is required of us in these parts, and the sporting competition
is very small, if indeed it exists at all, within earshot of us; at
least, at this hour of the morning we have the field to ourselves. We
hear nothing as yet but the rustling of gigantic ferns, bamboos, and
plantain leaves, together with the occasional song of the winged tribe,
whose united harmony it is our purpose soon to interrupt. The silence
of the grey dawn is eminently favourable to our sport, and the low
bushes which intercept our path screen us from the penetrating gaze of
our prey. The guinea-fowl, or 'gallos de Guinea' as they are styled,
occupy our first attention. At this hour they emerge from their
hiding-places by the score to feed among the dewy heather. We have to
move with extreme caution, for the colour of their soft feathers is
scarcely distinguishable from the ground which they have selected as a
table for their morning meal. Nicasio is in advance of me, tracking a
company of guinea-fowls, whose melodious chirp has caught his accustomed
ear. They are not yet visible, but my sporting friend has halted behind
a bush, and thrown away his white tell-tale panama. This means mischief.
The dark-grey clothes and sun-burnt face of my companion blend naturally
with the surroundings, and, as he crouches motionless on the ground, he,
like the birds just described, is barely discernible. I watch him with
interest and some impatience, for a covey of large pigeons challenge my
weapon close at hand. Their cooing seems to proceed from a great
distance, but, conscious of the enemy's ventriloquial power, his muffled
music does not deceive me. My companion has now levelled his gun, and,
taking steady aim, presently fires.