210 EDGE OF THE JUNGLE 



seen an Indian sink his hamaca posts into sand 

 with one swift, concentrated motion, mathemati- 

 cal in its precision and surety, so that he might 

 enter at once into a peaceful night of tranquil 

 and unbroken slumber, while I, a tenderfoot then, 

 must needs beat my stakes down into the ground 

 with tremendous energy, only to come to earth 

 with a resounding thwack the moment I mounted 

 mv couch. 



The Red Man made his comment, smiling: 

 "Yellow earth, much squeeze." Which, being 

 translated, informed me that the clayey ground 

 I had chosen, hard though it seemed, was more 

 like putty in that it would slip and slip with the 

 prolonged pressure until the post fell inward and 

 catastrophe crowned my endeavor. 



So it follows that the hammock, in company 

 with an adequate tarpaulin and two trustworthy 

 stakes, will survive the heaviest downpour as well 

 as the most arid and uncompromising desert. 

 But since it is man-made, with finite limitations, 

 nature is not without means to defeat its purpose. 

 The hammock cannot cope with the cold — real 

 cold, that is, not the sudden chill of tropical night 

 which a blanket resists, but the cold of the north 

 or of high altitudes. This is the realm of the 



