THE POMEROON TRAIL 75 



substitutes in the shape of a host of nuts and 

 seeds — ^flotsam and jetsam from far up-river, 

 like the snake and ants and opossum. There 

 were spheres and kidney-shapes, half -circles and 

 crescents, heads of little old men and pods like 

 scimitars, and others like boomerangs. Some 

 were dull, others polished and varnished. They 

 were red and green, brown and pink and mauve, 

 and a few gorgeous ones shaded from salmon 

 into the most brilliant orange and yellow. Most 

 were as lifeless in appearance as empty shells, 

 but there were many with the tiny root and 

 natal leaves sprouting hopefully through a chink. 

 And just to be consistent, I chose one out of 

 the many thousands piled in windrows and car- 

 ried it high up on the shore, where I carefully 

 planted it. It was a nut unknown to me at the 

 time, but later I knew that I had started one 

 of the greatest of the jungle trees on its way 

 to success. 



Ahead of me two boys dashed out of the 

 underbrush and rushed into the waves. After 

 swimming a few strokes they reached a great 

 log and, heading it inward, swam it ashore and 

 tied a rope to it. Here was a profession which 

 appealed to me, and which indeed I had already 



