atening sky, and joined their voices in the deafening chorus
that shook the wide-spreading canopy of the tall ceiba tree and
penetrated into the innermost recesses of the jungle a distance measured
in miles. Then the troop clumsily made its way over the swaying branches
and sought a friendly shelter in the crown of a chonta palm.

The wild things of the forest heard the warning and understood its
meaning. From the snug security of the cavernous greenheart, the little,
woolly _douroucoulis_ or night monkeys roused themselves from their
daylight slumbers, peered out into the fading light with round, blinking
eyes, and then curled up again for another nap.

_Sama_, the tapir, one massive forefoot raised in midair, stopped
soothing with his tongue the ugly gash inflicted by _Ueshe_, leader of
the peccary herd when he had incautiously stumbled into its midst, and
listened. His mind had been made up that to-night he should feast on the
luscious grass growing so abundantly in the bed of the broad, nearly dry
river. But the swelling chorus from the treetops caused Sama hastily to
reach another decision. He would remain where he was, in the dense brake
of _chuchilla_ canes and satisfy his hunger on their coarser leaves. The
river bed was too exposed to danger. In the all but impenetrable cane
thicket lay at least a measure of safety.

Even _Picici_, the bushmaster, largest and deadliest of all the
poisonous snakes heard--and heeded. Not one muscle in all his nine feet
of tightly coiled, scale-covered body quivered. Ordinarily, Picici
feared not one living thing. In the jungle he was supposed to reign
supreme, save only for _Muzurama_, the black snake who could
successfully engage him in combat if he chose; but this enemy was so
rare as to be almost negligible. The other animals instinctively knew
and feared his lightning thrust and death-dealing fangs. But Siluk, the
Storm-God was different--an intangible, elusive something he did not
understand, could not subdue. And the terror that Siluk brought was even
worse, for it stalked boldly in the night and slew without warning or
mercy. And so the mighty serpent was contented merely to remain in the
damp, evil-smelling burrow under the decaying vegetation to wait and to
watch.

About the only creatures to remain unaffected by the approach of the
storm were the birds in the treetops; to them the thing it heralded
meant a superabundance of food and a denser, more protective growth o