and crests glowed with scale-like feathers, brilliant as the
precious stones--emerald, topaz, ruby, and sapphire--after which they
were named. The great forest trees would be, I felt sure, full of the
screaming parrot tribe, in their uniforms of leafy green, faced with
orange, blue, and crimson; while, farther up the country, there would be
the splendid quetzals, all metallic golden-green and scarlet.

But I had little time for thought. In a short time, in obedience to my
uncle's orders, I had steered the boat right into the mouth of the
little stream beyond where the salt waves broke; the sail was lowered
and furled and the anchor carried ashore and fixed between two masses of
rock, so that it could not be dragged out by the tugging of the craft.

"Wouldn't do to wake up and find our boat gone, Nat," said Uncle Dick,
"if we set up our tent on shore. The sand looks very tempting, and we
are not likely to be disturbed. But now then, start a fire, while I
unpack some stores, and--yes--we will. We'll set up the tent to sleep
under. More room to stretch our legs."

I was not long in getting a fire burning, with the kettle full of the
beautiful rivulet water heating; while Uncle Dick stuck in the two
pointed and forked sticks with which we were provided, laid the pole
from fork to fork, and spread the oiled canvas sheet over it, so that
there was a shelter from the night dews.

But before our coffee was ready and the bacon for our supper fried,
night was upon us, and the bushes near scintillating in the most
wondrous way, every twig seeming to be alive with fire-flies.

For a short space of time, as we sat there on the sands, partaking of
our meal--than which nothing more delicious had ever passed my lips--all
was still but the lapping of the tiny waves and the musical trickling of
the rivulet amongst the rocks and stones. Then I jumped, for a peculiar
cry arose from the forest behind us, and this seemed to be the signal
for an outburst of sounds new to me, piping, thrumming, drumming,
shrieking, howling, grunting in every variety, and I turned to look in
Uncle Dick's face, which was lit up by the glow from our little wood
fire.

"Brings back old times in the South American forests, Nat," he said
coolly. "I could put a name to nearly every musician at work in
Nature's orchestra yonder."

"What was that horrible cry?" I whispered. "Jaguar or puma?"

"Neither, my boy; only a heron or crane somewhere up the s