As they draw nearer they become more cautious. They find a strong bough in the top of a big tree, and the grave old pilot perches himself far out on it in order to get a good peep at my cage. Just behind him sits the next in rank, resting his hands on the shoulder of the leader, while a dozen more occupy similar attitudes behind each other along the limb. Each one pushes the one just in front of him to make him move up a little closer, but none of them except the pilot seems to want the front seat. They look on in silence, occasionally turning their little heads from side to side, as if to be certain it is not an illusion. Again they nudge each other, and move up a little closer, meanwhile squinting their bright eyes, as if in doubt about the strange sight before them. They have made such calls before, but have not yet fully determined what kind of an animal it is that occupies the cage. At each successive visit they come a little nearer, until they are now not a hundred feet away. Now they take alarm at something and hurry off in another direction. Next comes a pangolin, prowling about for insects among the leaves. He catches a glimpse of the cage, stands motionless for a moment to see what it is, and then like a flash he is gone. During this time birds of divers kinds are flying in all directions. Some of them perch on the limbs near by, some pick nuts from the palm trees, while others scream and screech like so many tin whistles or brass horns. The most conspicuous among them are the noisy toucans and parrots. Many of them have brilliant and beautiful plumage. It is now ten o’clock. Not a breath of air stirs a leaf of the great forest. The heat is sweltering and oppressive. The voices of the birds grow less and less frequent. Even the insects do not appear to be so busy as they were in the earlier hours of the day. Moses has abandoned his rambles in the bush, and sits on a fallen tree, with his arms folded, as if he had finished work for the day. Along towards this hour everything in the forest seems to become quiet and inactive, and continues so until about two o’clock in the afternoon. I was impressed upon more than one occasion with this universal rest during the hottest part of the day, and the same thing seems to prevail among aquatic animals. I now prepare my repast for midday by opening a can of meat or fish, and warming it on a tin plate on the little stove. I have no vegetables or dessert, but with a few crackers broken up and stirred into the grease, and plenty of water to drink, I make an ample meal. When it is finished, Moses coils up in his little hammock, swung by my side, and takes his siesta. The boy, when there, stretches out on the floor and does likewise. During the hours about noon, few things are astir, though during that time I have seen some interesting sights.