And, on the whole, if Guacharos are precious, so is life.

And now it may be asked, and reasonably enough, what Guacharos {111b} are; and why five English gentlemen and a canny Scots coastguardman should think it worth while to imperil their lives to obtain them.

The shrill and piercing cries of the Guacharos strike upon the vaults of the rocks, and are repeated by the echo in the depth of the cavern.

'Young Guacharos have been sent to the port or Cumana, and lived there several days without taking any nourishment, the seeds offered to them not suiting their taste.

To go and join the Guacharos is to rejoin their fathers, is to die.

The Grotto of Caripe is the Tartarus of the Greeks; and the Guacharos, which hover over the rivulet, uttering plaintive cries, remind us of the Stygian birds. . . .

As the vault grew lower, the cries of the Guacharos became more shrill.

The Guacharos alone would have been sufficient to render it celebrated.

He had brought home also several Guacharos from the Trinidad caves, all of which died on the passage, for want, seemingly, of the oily nuts on which they feed.

A list of the seeds found in the stomachs of Guacharos by my friend Mr. Prestoe of the Botanical Gardens, Port of Spain, will be found in an Appendix.

From under that dark wall beyond it the Guacharos must be just trooping out for their nightly forage, as they had trooped out sinceHe alone who made them knows how long.