By-and-bye one would get used to the sound and it would lose attention.  The water in the river floated slowly on its long journey towards the ocean, almost 2500 miles away.  Large dolphins sometimes came to the surface, saluting the calm evening with a loud snort, and disappeared again with a slow, graceful movement.  Almost every evening I could hear issuing from the forest a horrible roar.  It came from the farthest depths and seemed as if it might well represent the mingled cries of some huge bull and a prowling jaguar that had attacked him unawares.  Yet it all came, I found, from one throat, that of the howling monkey.  He will sit alone for hours in a tree-top and pour forth these dreadful sounds which are well calculated to make the lonely wanderer stop and light a camp-fire for protection.

On the other hand, is heard the noise of the domestic animals of the village.  Cows, calves, goats, and pigs seemed to make a habit of exercising their vocal organs thoroughly before retiring.  Dogs bark at the moon; cats chase rats through openings of the palm-leaf roofs, threatening every moment to fall, pursued and pursuers, down upon the hammocks.  Vampires flutter around from room to room, occasionally resting on the tops of the iron partitions, and when they halt, continuing to chirp for a while like hoarse sparrows.  Occasionally there will come out of the darkness of the river a disagreeable sound as if some huge animal were gasping for its last breath before suffocating in the mud.  The sound has its effect, even upon animals, coming as it does out of the black mysterious night, warning them not to venture far for fear some uncanny force may drag them to death in the dismal waters.  It is the night call of the alligator.

The sweet plaintive note of a little partridge, called inamboo, would sometimes tremble through the air and compel me to forget the spell of unholy sounds arising from the beasts of the jungle and river.  Throughout the evening this amorous bird would call to its mate, and somewhere there would be an answering call back in the woods.  Many were the nights when, weak with fever, I awoke and listened to their calling and answering.  Yet never did they seem to achieve the bliss of meeting, for after a brief lull the calling and answering voices would again take up their pretty song.

Slowly the days went by and, with their passing, the river fell lower and lower until the waters receded from the land itself and were confined once more to their old course in the river-bed.  As the ground began to dry, the time came when the mosquitoes were particularly vicious.  They multiplied by the million.  Soon the village was filled with malaria, and the hypodermic needle was in full activity.