Many fish were seen playing about the tent-boat as it was tied to the wharf, and among others were scores of small pipe-fish. Mr. Crandall caught a small round sun-fish-like form, brilliantly colored and with a most wicked looking set of triangular teeth. As he was about to take the fish off the hook it deliberately twisted itself in the direction of his hand and bit his finger, taking a piece out with one snip of its four razor-like incisors. This was our introduction to the famous Perai or Carib Fish (_Serrasalmo scapularis_) which seems to fear nothing, man, crocodile or fish, and a school of which can disable any creature in a very short time. At this point we left the Waini and turned off into the Barama. We had followed the Waini day and night for about sixty miles, until, from a stream of two miles or more in width, it had narrowed to little more then one hundred yards. We left Farnum’s at three in the afternoon and steamed slowly up the Barama for twelve hours, tying up to the bank from three to seven in the early morning. We slept but little, for the strange wonderland which opened up before us. At nine o’clock the full moon rose and the beauty of the wilderness became indescribable. In the north—along the rivers of the Canadian forest—the spruces and firs are clean-trunked, tapering to tall, isolated, symmetrical summits. Here the very opposite conditions exist; solid massive walls of black foliage, with almost never a glimpse of trunk and bark. Most characteristic are the long, slender bush-ropes or lianas. In the forest they are thick, gnarled and knotted; there we get the vivid feeling of serpentine struggles in the terribly slow but none the less remorseless striving for light and air, but along the rivers the lianas are pendent threads or cables—straight as plummets and often a hundred feet in length. These give a decorative aspect to the scene unlike any other type of forest—temperate or northern. In the moonlight the appearance of the walls of foliage is like painted scenery. Their blackness and impenetrability give a feeling of flatness and the summit outlines are crudely regular. The dominant sound at night along the Barama was a sweet tinkling as of tiny bells, all in unison and harmony, but with a range of at least four half-tones. The tree-toads clinging here and there to leaves and flowers throughout the jungle fill this whole region with the melody of their chimes; striking the minutes as if with a thousand tiny anvils, and only too often leading some enemy to their hiding places.