174j jungle peace 



the rest, — worthy perhaps of a place in my 

 memory roll of supercoolies, — who worked at 

 weeding day after day, like the rest of the men, 

 but who thought other thoughts than those of 

 Mahabol and Guiadeen. I wished I had known 

 of him sooner. 



So Gokool sang to us two, the coolie boy and 

 me, a song of ancient India, and danced it by 

 moonlight here in this American jungle, and I 

 dotted his dancing circle with pence, and a few 

 bits, and even a shilling or two. And Gokool 

 thanked me with dignity. And his face will 

 long remain vivid, tense with feeling, forgetful 

 of all but the loud-cadenced phrases, the quaver- 

 ing chant which broke in and out of falsetto 

 so subtlely that no Western voice may imitate 

 it. And I like to think that he enjoyed dancing 

 for a sahib who loved Lucknow and the old bal- 

 lads. And so we parted. 



After I cached the vampire lantern behind 

 its intrenched bulwark of books and magazines, 

 I leaned far out of a window and thought over 

 the night's happenings. It was long after mid- 

 night, and the steady throb of the tom-tom still 

 kept rhythm with the beat of my temples, and 



