22 EDGE OF THE JUNGLE 



Now and then I caught a famihar sound, — faint, 

 but not to be forgotten, — the clattering of palm 

 fronds. But this came from Eoomboom Point, 

 fifty yards away (an out jutting of rocks where 

 we had secured our first giant catfish of that 

 name) . The steady rhythm of sound which rose 

 and fell with the breeze and sifted into my win- 

 dow with the moonbeams, was the gentlest 

 shussssssing, a fine whispering, a veritable fern 

 of a sound, high and crisp and wholly apart from 

 the moaning around the eaves which arose at 

 stronger gusts. It brought to mind the steep 

 mountain-sides of Pahang, and windy nights 

 which presaged great storms in high passes of 

 Yunnan. 



But these wonder times lived only through 

 memory and were misted with intervening years, 

 while it came upon me during early nights, again 

 and again, that this was Now, and that into the 

 hour-glass neck of Now was headed a maelstrom 

 of untold riches of the Future — minutes and 

 hours and sapphire days ahead — a Now which 

 was wholly unconcerned with leagues and liquor, 

 with strikes and salaries. So I turned over with 

 the peace which passes all telling — the forecast 

 of delving into the private affairs of birds and 



