96 JUNGLE PEACE 



cessive tropical heat, perspiring at every pore, 

 because his pride demands a waistcoat and coat 

 of thickest woolen material, which would have 

 been comfortable in a bhzzard. So I went out 

 again to look at the coohes with their honest 

 garb of draped linen, and they seemed more 

 sincere and worthy of acquaintance. 



We started at last, and only a few miles of 

 glistening rails had passed beneath us when, 

 finally, proof of the complete schism between 

 police and weather bureaus became evident: the 

 fresh tradewind dispersed the rain! The clouds 

 remained, however — low, swirling masses of 

 ashy-blue, billowing out like smoke from a 

 bursting shell, or fraying in pale gray tatters, 

 tangling the fronds of lofty palms. For the 

 rest of the day the light came from the hori- 

 zon — a thrillingly weird, indirect illumination, 

 which lent vividness and intensity to every 

 view. The world was scoured clean, the air 

 cleansed of every particle of dust, while the 

 clouds lent a cool freshness wholly untropical, 

 and hour after hour the splendid savannah 

 lands of the coast of Guiana slipped past, as we 

 rumbled swiftly southward along the entire 

 shore-front. 



