When we stepped into the streets of Santa Cruz the heat was suffocating, though the thermometer recorded only 25°C. After breathing sea air for such a long time one suffers on land, not because the air contains more oxygen at sea but because it is less charged with the gases emanating from rotting animal and vegetable substances.

The missionary told us a story about the jaguars. Some months before our arrival a young jaguar had wounded a child while playing with him. I have verified the facts on the spot; it should interest those who study animal behavior. Two Indian children, a boy and a girl of about eight and nine years of age, were sitting on the grass near the village when a jaguar came out from the jungle and ran round the children, jumping and hiding in the high grass, like our cats. The little boy sensed danger only when the jaguar struck him with its paw until blood began to flow. The little girl chased it off with branches from a tree. The intelligent little boy was brought to us. The jaguar's claw had ripped skin from his forehead. What did this playfulness mean in the jaguar? If the jaguar was not hungry, why did it approach the children? There is something mysterious in the sympathies and hatreds of animals.

The fevers reigning in Cariaco forced us, to our regret, to shorten our stay there. As we were still not completely acclimatized, the inhabitants to whom we had been recommended warned us not to delay. In the town we met many people who, through a certain ease of behaviour, or through being more broad-minded and preferring a United States type government, revealed that they were in contact with foreigners. For the first time we heard the names of Franklin and Washington enthusiastically pronounced. With these shows of enthusiasm we heard complaints about the present state of New Andalusia, exaggerated enumerations of their natural wealth, and passionate and impatient hopes for a better future. This state of mind struck a traveler who had been witness to the great political upheavals in Europe.