266 JUNGLE PEACE 



meet and travel and camp together again, 

 whether in the Cinghalese thornbush, or Hima- 

 layan daks, in Dyak canoes or among the cam- 

 phor groves of Sakarajama. 



Nupee and I had not been thrown together 

 closely. This had proved a static expedition, 

 settled in one place, with no dangers to speak of, 

 no real roughing it, and we met only after each 

 hunting trip. But the magic of a full moon had 

 lured me from my laboratory table, and here we 

 were, we two, plodding junglewards, becoming 

 better acquainted in silence than I have often 

 achieved with much talk. 



It was nearly midnight. We traversed a 

 broad trail of white sand, between lines of sap- 

 lings of pale-barked rubber trees, flooded, satu- 

 rated, with milky-gray light. Not a star ap- 

 peared in the cloudless sky, which, in contrast 

 to the great silver moon-plaque, was blue-black. 

 These open sandy stretches, so recently etched 

 into what had been primitive jungle, were too 

 glowing with hght for most of the nocturnal 

 creatures who, in darkness, flew and ran and 

 hunted about in them. And the lovers of twi- 

 light were already come and gone. The stage 

 was vacant save for one actor — the nighthawk 



