HAMMOCK NIGHTS 215 



tramping of many feet ; in a land traversed only 

 by Indian trails I have listened to an overloaded 

 freight train toiling up a steep grade; I have 

 heard the noise of distant battle and the cries of 

 the victor and the vanquished. Hard by, among 

 the trees, I have heard a woman seized, have 

 heard her crying, pleading for mercy, have heard 

 her choking and sobbing till the end came in a 

 terrible, gasping sigh; and then, in the sudden 

 silence, there was a movement and thrashing 

 about in the topmost branches, and the flutter 

 and whirr of great wings moving swiftly away 

 from me into the heart of the jungle the only 

 clue to the author of this vocal tragedy. Once, 

 a Pan of the woods tuned up his pipes striking 

 a false note now and then, as if it were his whim 

 to appear no more than the veriest amateur ; then 

 suddenly, with the full liquid sweetness of his 

 reeds, bursting into a strain so wonderful, so 

 silvery clear, that I lay with mouth open to still 

 the beating of blood in my ears, hardly breathing, 

 that I might catch every vibration of his song. 

 When the last note died away, there was utter 

 stillness about me for an instant nothing 

 stirred, nothing moved ; the wind seemed to have 

 forsaken the leaves. From a great distance, as 



