at are those monkeys?" asked Arthur, who had not quite agreed
with me, and wished to change the subject.

"I have no doubt that they are what the French call `spider monkeys,'" I
answered. "I found a description of them in my book, under the title of
Ateles, or Coaita. The white-faced species is the _Ateles marginatus_.
There are several species very similar in their appearance and habits."

I have more to say by-and-by about these spider monkeys.

We now found that it was time to begin our return to the river. As we
were walking on we caught sight of some object moving among the tall
grass. Arthur, True, and I followed at full speed. I had my gun ready
to fire. It was a huge serpent. It seemed, however, more afraid of us
than we were of it. On it went like a dark stream running amidst the
verdure, moving almost in a straight line, with only the slightest
perceptible bends, and it soon disappeared among the thick underwood.
From its size it would have been an awkward creature to be surprised by
unarmed; and True, I suspect, would have had little chance of escaping.

Shortly afterwards, looking up among the branches, we saw overhead a
large flight of parrots. From their curious way of moving they seemed
to be fighting in the air. Presently down one fell from among them,
pitching into a soft clump of grass. I ran forward, expecting to find
it dead; but scarcely had I taken it in my hand, than it revived, and I
had no doubt it had been stunned by a blow on the head from one of its
companions. It was of a bright green plumage, with a patch of scarlet
beneath the wings. "I am sure your sister would like it for a pet,"
exclaimed Arthur; "do let us take it to her!" The parrot, however,
seemed in no way disposed to submit to captivity, but struggled
violently and bit at our fingers. I managed, however, to secure its
beak, and we carried it in safety to the hut.

"Oh, what a beautiful little creature!" exclaimed Ellen as she saw it.
"I have been so longing to have some pets, and I am much obliged to you
for bringing it to me."

"I have tamed many birds," said Maria, "and I hope soon to make this one
very amiable and happy."

Domingos, however, declared that the bird could not be kept without a
cage. Some bamboos were growing at a short distance. He cut several
small ones, and in a short time had constructed a good-sized cage, with
the bars sufficiently close prevent the little stranger escaping. He
then