*8 EDGE OF THE JUNGLE 



pect of change or of adventure than an average 

 toadstool. 



Thus I sat for a long time, lulled by similitudes 

 of northern plants and bees and birds, and then 

 gently shifted southward a few hundred miles, 

 the transition being smooth and unabrupt. With 

 equal gentleness the dead calm stirred slightly 

 and exhaled the merest ghost of a breeze; it 

 seemed as if the air was hardly in motion, but 

 only restless: the wings of the bees and the fly- 

 catcher might well have caused it. But, judged 

 by the sequence of events, it was the almost im- 

 perceptible signal given by some great Jungle 

 Spirit, who had tired of playing with my dreams 

 and pleasant fancies of northern life, and now 

 called upon her legions to disillusion me. And 

 the response was immediate. Three great shells 

 burst at my very feet, one of sound, one of 

 color, and the third of both plus numbers, and 

 from that time on, tropical life was dominant 

 whichever way I looked. That is the way with 

 the wilderness, and especially the tropical wilder- 

 ness to surprise one in the very field with which 

 one is most familiar. While in my own estima- 

 tion my chief profession is ignorance, yet I sign 



