Except in the early morning, there was no coolness in that sweltering place.
In one corner of our room I discerned a brown toad of monstrous size squatting in great comfort on the damp flags.

He was as big as a trussed chicken, and looked something like one in the twilight.

We pointed him out to the administrador, who brought in two fierce watchdogs, but the toad set up his back and spirted his acrid liquor, and the dogs could not be got to go near him.

We stirred him up with a bamboo and drove him into the garden, but he left his portrait painted in slime upon our floor.
The Indian choir chanted the Oracion as we had heard it the night before at Temisco, and then came the calling over of the raya.

After that we walked about the place, and sat talking in the open corridor.
Owners of estates, and indeed all white folks living in this part of the country were beginning to feel very anxious about their position, and not without reason.