THE LURE OF KARTABO 25 



swelling indignantly at this sudden interruption 

 of his siesta. In a strong wind the stems bent 

 and swayed, thrashing off every imperfect leaf 

 and sweeping low across the roof, with strange 

 scrapings and bamboo mutterings. But they 

 hardly ever broke and fell. In the evening, how- 

 ever, and in the night, after a terrific storm, a 

 sharp, unexpected rat-tat-tat-tat, exactly like a 

 machine-gun, would smash in on the silence, and 

 two or three of the great grasses, which per- 

 haps sheltered Dutchmen generations ago, would 

 snap and fall. But the Indians and Bovianders 

 who lived nearby, knew this was no wind, nor yet 

 weakness of stem, but Sinclair, who was abroad 

 and who was cutting down the bamboos for his 

 own secret reasons. He was evil, and it was well 

 to be indoors with all windows closed; but fur- 

 ther details were lacking, and we were driven to 

 clothe this imperfect ghost with history and habits 

 of our own devising. 



The birds and other inhabitants of the bam- 

 boos, were those of the more open jungle, flocks 

 drifting through the clumps, monkeys occasion- 

 ally swinging from one to another of the elastic 

 tips, while toucans came and went. At evening, 

 flocks of parrakeets and great black orioles came 



