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Dark Is Before the Da^vn 



(ZoologicaP) 



OUR LAUNCH with its little flotilla of canoes drifted gently 

 towards the billowing greenery that cascaded from the bank of 

 the river into its black waters. The thumping of the little engine 

 died away in countless echoes between the towering walls of darker 

 foliage that curved ahead and behind, so that we appeared to be 

 drifting in a narrow lake sunk in a deep green canyon. The silence 

 was absolute while we stood waiting for the sharp prow of the 

 biggest canoe, which was lashed alongside, to poke in among the 

 vegetation. The little boats, warped together side by side, had suffi- 

 cient way to drive them far in among the tangled vegetation so that 

 a mass of branches came fingering in beneath the roof of the launch 

 like the writhing arms of some ephemeral green octopus. Wedged 

 there in the silence, half in brilliant sunlight and half in the deep 

 shade cast by the massed verdure that now hung eighty feet directly 

 above us, nobody moved or spoke. Then, Guinape, the Carib, let 

 out a deep sigh like a grampus breaching. I remember reflecting at 

 the time that it might look like this if we should ever reach the shores 



