A JUNGLE BEACH 107 



in an eternal dance. And so, in some ordained 

 way, he will fulfil his destiny and I acquire merit. 



To write of sunrises and moonlight is to com- 

 mit literary harikiri; but as that terminates life, 

 so may I end this. And I choose the morning 

 and the midnight of the sixth of August, for 

 reasons both greater and less than cosmic. Early 

 that morning, looking out from the beach over 

 the Mazacuni, as we called the union of the two 

 great rivers, there was wind, yet no wind, as the 

 sun prepared to lift above the horizon. The great 

 soft-walled jungle was clear and distinct. Every 

 reed at the landing had its unbroken counter- 

 part in the still surface. But at the apex of 

 the waters, the smoke of all the battles in the 

 world had gathered, and upon this the sun slowly 

 concentrated his powers, until he tore apart the 

 cloak of mist, turning the dark surface, first to 

 oxidized, and then to shining quicksilver. In- 

 stantaneously the same shaft of light touched the 

 tips of the highest trees, and as if in response 

 to a poised baton, there broke forth that wonder 

 of the world the Zoroastrian chorus of tens of 

 thousands of jungle creatures. 



Over the quicksilver surface little individual 



