156 JUNGLE PEACE 



years of sound, over the jeering chorus of 

 Malay gibbons, the roars of anger of orang- 

 utans, four-handing themselves through the 

 swaying Bornean jungle, and on past the im- 

 pudent chatter of the gray langurs of Kashmir 

 deodars. Memory came to rest in a tent-boat, 

 seven years ago and not many more miles dis- 

 tant, when I heard my first red howlers. Then I 

 shared my thrill. Now all with me were asleep, 

 and alone I reached far out into the night and 

 with mouth and ears absorbed every vibration of 

 the wonderful chorus. 



In spite of all this variety and immeasurable 

 diversity, I came to perceive a definite sequence 

 of many daily and nightly events, as I ob- 

 served them from Kalacoon windows. Not only 

 did the sun rise invariably in the east and the 

 tradewinds blow regularly every afternoon, but 

 a multitude of organic beings timed their activi- 

 ties to these elemental phenomena. At half 

 after five, when it was just light enough to 

 see distinctly, I went out into the calm dawn. 

 The quiet of the great spaces at this hour was 

 absolute. No matter how tempestuous the eve- 

 ning before or the night, the hours of early 

 morning were peaceful. Not a leaf stirred. 



