IH JUNGLE PEACE 



of the horizon over the expanse of three mighty 

 rivers — the Essequibo, the Mazaruni, and the 

 Cuyuni. And around us was high second 

 growth, losing itself to the southward in a gi- 

 gantic, abrupt wall of the real jungle — the 

 jungle that I knew by experience was more 

 wonderful than any of the forests of the Far 

 East, of Burma or Ceylon or Malaysia. 



We sat down on some packing-boxes after 

 our first day of indoor labor, and watched the 

 sun settle slowly beyond the silvered Mazaruni. 

 And a song, not of the tropics, but bubbhng and 

 clear and jubilant as that of our northern sing- 

 ers, rang out from the single tall palm standing 

 in our front compound. Clinging to the top- 

 most frond was an oriole, jet as night, with 

 the gold of sunshine on crown and shoulders 

 and back. He was singing. While he sang, a 

 second oriole swooped upward between two 

 vanes of a frond to a small ball of fibers knotted 

 close to the midrib. The event had come and it 

 developed swiftly. 



We seized a great ladder and by superhuman 

 efforts raised it little by little, until it rested 

 high against the smooth trunk. One of us then 

 mounted the swaying rungs, reckless with ex- 



