«84« JUNGLE PEACE 



books, others recalling the paint on the Noah's 

 Ark of one's nursery. 



But the scent of the giant armadillo eluded 

 us. When we waded through some new, strange 

 odor I looked back at Nupee, hoping for some 

 sign that it was the one we sought. But that 

 night the great armored creatures went their 

 way and we ours, and the two did not cross. 

 Nupee showed me a track at the trail-side made 

 long ago, as wide and deep as the spoor of a 

 dinosaur, and I fingered it reverently as I would 

 have touched the imprint of a recently alighted 

 pterodactyl, taking care not to spoil the outlines 

 of the huge claw-marks. All my search for him 

 had been in vain thus far, though I had been 

 so close upon his trail as to have seen fresh 

 blood. I had made up my mind not to give up, 

 but it seemed as if success must wait for another 

 year. 



We watched and called the ghostly kinkajous 

 and held them fascinated with our stream of 

 light; we roused unnamable creatures which 

 squawked companionably at us and rustled the 

 tree-top leaves; we listened to the whispered 

 rush of passing vampires skimming our faces 

 and were soothed by the hypnotic droning hum 



