56 EDGE OF THE JUNGLE 



and the one which eluded us was the big sulphur- 

 breasted fellow. I remembered so vividly the 

 painstaking care with which, week after week, we 

 and our Indians tramped the jungle for miles, 

 through swamps and over rolling hills, at last 

 having to admit failure; and now I sat and 

 watched thirty, forty, fifty of the splendid birds 

 whirr past. As the last of the fifty-four flew on 

 to their feast of berries, I recalled with difficulty 

 my faded visions of northern birds. 



And so ended, as in the great finale of a pyro- 

 technic display, my two hours on a hillside clear- 

 ing. I can neither enliven it with a startling es- 

 cape, nor add a thrill of danger, without using as 

 many "ifs" as would be needed to make a Jersey 

 meadow untenable. For example, if I had fallen 

 over backwards and been powerless to rise or 

 move, I should have been killed within half an 

 hour, for a stray column of army ants was pass- 

 ing within a yard of me, and death would await 

 any helpless being falling across their path. But 

 by searching out a copperhead and imitating 

 Cleopatra, or with patience and persistence de- 

 vouring every toadstool, the same result could 

 be achieved in our home-town orchard. When on 

 the march, the army ants are as innocuous at two 



