262 EDGE OF THE JUNGLE 



ward cloud still stained with last night's sunset 

 yellow, which had set out on its own path over 

 rivers and jungles to join the sea mists beyond 

 the uttermost trees. 



Such a swarm seemed imbued with an ecstasy 

 of travel which surpassed discomfort. Deep 

 cloud shadows might settle down, but only 

 dimmed the painted wings; under raindrops the 

 ribbon sagged, the insects flying closer to the 

 water. On the other hand, the scattered hosts 

 of the more ordinary migrations, while they 

 turned neither to the north nor to the west, yet 

 fled at the advent of clouds and rain, seeking 

 shelter under the nearest foliage. So much 

 loitering was permitted, but with the coming of 

 the sun again they must desert the pleasant feel 

 of velvet leaves, the rain-washed odors of stream- 

 ing blossoms, and set their antennas unquestion- 

 ingly upon the strange last turn of their wheel 

 of life. 



What crime of ancestors are they expiating? 

 In some forgotten caterpillardom was an act 

 committed, so terrible that it can never be known, 

 except through the working out of the karma 

 upon millions of butterflies? Or does there lin- 

 ger in the innumerable little ganglion minds a 



