98 JUNGLE PEACE 



of quiet assimilation of water and warmth. 

 Their walls were of mud, adobe, mere casual 

 upliftings of the sticky soil which glistened in 

 every direction. Their roofs were of trooly- 

 palm fronds, brown and withered, as though 

 they had dropped from invisible trees high over- 

 head. Like the coolies themselves, the houses 

 offered no note of discord. 



I had just come from the deep jungle of the 

 interior with its varying lights and shadows, its 

 myriad color-grades, pastel, neutral in quahty. 

 Here was boldness of stroke, sharpness of out- 

 line, strength of pigment. All the dominant 

 tones of this newly washed coastal region were 

 distinct and incisive. Clear-cut silhouettes of 

 vultures and black witch-birds were hunched on 

 fence-posts and shrubs. Egrets, like manikins 

 cut from the whitest of celluloid, shone as far as 

 the eye could see them. As if the rain had dis- 

 solved and washed away every mixed shade and 

 hue, the eye registered only flaming, clashing 

 Colors; great flocks of birds black as night, save 

 for a glowing scarlet gorget; other black birds 

 with heads of shining gold, flashing as the fili- 

 gree nose-beads flash against the rich dark skin 

 of the coolies. 



