Dark Is Before the Dawn 349 



where this great breathing roof comes to a river does it descend to 

 mingle with the walls of thin-branched bushes that line its banks, 

 their roots dabbling in the waters. Thus, it was somewhat of a sur- 

 prise when we found a narrow, winding passageway under these 

 bushes, which, instead of leading us to the bank, continued on 

 through a tangle of palms and finally debouched into the greenish 

 half-light beneath this verdant roof. We found ourselves gliding 

 along between the vast boles of the giant trees which rose from a 

 continuous lake of placid, inky waters like the piers of some endless 

 bridgework stretching in all directions as far as the eye could see. 

 In considerable amazement, we held our paddles and just drifted, 

 staring about at this gigantic natural cathedral. 



The sight of this flooded forest was altogether awe-inspiring. The 

 echoing silence and the unutterable stillness, with only the shafts of 

 sunlight, all stabbing downwards at the same angle to disappear com- 

 pletely in the inky waters, engendered in us a sort of reverence that 

 far surpassed anything either of us had ever felt in a man-made place 

 of worship. Here, to me at least, was obviously where the Almighty 

 concluded his labors on the sixth day by creating something very 

 special where man, whenever he might gain true understanding, 

 could come and contemplate all His other wonders. If the river had 

 been Paradise on earth, this forest was the temple thereof. We finally 

 turned, in silence, pushing with our paddles but not taking them out 

 of the water lest their dripping disturb this gentle perfection. Then 

 we made a remarkable discovery. 



There was no bank at all at this point though the waters covering 

 the natural levee which existed there, as it does almost everywhere 

 along the lower reaches of great tropical rivers, were only about six 

 inches deep. There was no place to make a camp, and as it was too 

 late to go pounding up the river looking for a piece of dry land, and 

 since we were, in any case, very comfortably installed aboard the 

 boats, I decided without further delay that we should tie up for the 

 night and take the evening off. We pushed the canoe up on to the in- 

 ner, forest, side of the bank opposite the point from which the 

 voices of the others were now coming from the river side beyond 

 the bushes and called out to them about our plans. Our voices 

 echoed just as in a vast cathedral and went rolling away, echo stum- 

 bling upon echo. When all was arranged, I proposed to my com- 



