184 JUNGLE PEACE 



silica dulled and chipped our blades and the 

 sharp points of the cut stems lamed us at a 

 touch. 



But whatever the character of the vegetation, 

 whether a tangle of various thorny nightshades, 

 a grove of cecropias, or a serried phalanx of 

 reeds, the terrible razor-grass overran all. 

 Gracefully it hung in emerald loops from branch 

 to branch, festooning living foliage and dead 

 stump alike, with masses of slender fronds. It 

 appeared soft and loose-hung as if one could 

 brush it away with a sweep of the hand. But 

 it was the most punishing of all living things, 

 insidiously cutting to the bone as we grasped it, 

 and binding all this new growth together with 

 bands more efficient than steel. 



An age-old jungle is kind to the intruder, its 

 floor is smooth and open, one's footsteps fall 

 upon soft moss, the air is cooled and shadowed 

 by the foliage high overhead. Here, in this 

 mushroom growth of only three years, our prog- 

 ress became slower and ever more difficult. Our 

 hands bled and were cut until we could barely 

 keep them gripped about the cutlass handles; 

 our trail opened up a lane down which poured 

 the seething heat of the sun's direct rays; thorns 



