Jungle By- Ways in India 



hum from millions of mosquitoes that it has ever 

 been my lot to hear or feel, for we soon felt 

 them. They must have been in billions, and their 

 hum was like unto the hum of a myriad cicadas 

 in the far-away Himalayan heights. We had been 

 warned of this, a warning which was unnecessary, 

 as we most of us knew what to expect, and had 

 come prepared accordingly. We each had our 

 own special pet preventive, my own being camphor 

 oil, with which I had plentifully smeared my face, 

 neck, hands, and wrists. It is often effective. 

 In our present place nothing would have been, 

 for the insects were voraciously hungry. We 

 had a shocking four hours of it. 



The moon rose over the hill-crest, silvering the 

 tops of the trees, and then throwing vivid and 

 uncanny shadows over the ground, and turning 

 areas of tartarean darkness to a beautiful silvery 

 brightness. Our kill was yet in impenetrable dark- 

 ness, and the hum of the mosquitoes was all that 

 broke the stillness. Half an hour passed or per- 

 haps more, and I leant gently forward. Yes, I 

 could now indistinctly see the kill. I touched 

 my friend. He looked over and shook his head. 

 He wore glasses as he was short-sighted, and told 

 me afterwards that he could at no time see the 

 kill as the light was not strong enough for him. 

 Shortly after a faint snap of a twig caught my 

 ear. I listened intently. Surely that was a faint 

 rustle, I looked at my friend. He did not move. 



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