JUNGLE NIGHT 283 



wake of some big jungle-bug struck us like a 

 tangible barrier. 



The most tantalizing odors were the wonder- 

 fully delicate and penetrating ones from some 

 great burst of blossoms, odors heavy with sweet- 

 ness, which seeped down from vine or tree high 

 overhead, wholly invisible from below even in 

 broad daylight. These odors remained longest 

 in memory, perhaps because they were so com- 

 pletely the product of a single sense. There 

 were others too, which were unforgetable, be- 

 cause, like the voice of the frog, they stirred the 

 memory a fraction before they excited curiosity. 

 Such I found the powerful musk from the bed 

 of leaves which a fawn had just left. For some 

 reason this brought vividly to mind the fearful 

 compound of smells arising from the decks of 

 Chinese junks. 



Along the moonlit trail there came wavering 

 whiffs of orchids, ranging from attar of roses 

 and carnations to the pungence of carrion, the 

 latter doubtless distilled from as delicate and 

 beautiful blossoms as the former. There were, 

 besides, the myriad and bewildering smells of 

 sap, crushed leaves, and decaying wood; acrid, 

 sweet, spicy and suffocating, some like musty 



