4 EDGE OF THE JUNGLE 



coon, and for the second time the land was given 

 over to cutlass and fire. But again there was 

 a halting in the affairs of man, and the rubber 

 saplings were not planted or were smothered; 

 and again the jungle smiled patiently through 

 a knee-tangle of thorns and blossoms, and the 

 charred clumps of razor-grass sent forth skeins 

 of saws and hanks of living barbs. 



I stood beneath the familiar cashew trees, 

 which had yielded for me so bountifully of their 

 crops of blossoms and hummingbirds, of fruit and 

 of tanagers, and looked out toward the distant 

 jungle, which trembled through the expanse of 

 palpitating heat-waves; and I knew how a her- 

 mit crab feels when its home pinches, or is out 

 of gear with the world. And, too, Nupee was 

 dead, and the jungle to the south seemed to call 

 less strongly. So I wandered through the old 

 house for the last time, sniffing the agreeable 

 odor of aged hypo still permeating the dark 

 room, re-covering the empty stains of skins and 

 traces of maps on the walls, and re-filling in my 

 mind the vacant shelves. The vampires had re- 

 turned to their chosen roost, the martins still 

 swept through the corridors, and as I went down 

 the hill, a moriche oriole sent a silver shaft of 



