14 EDGE OF THE JUNGLE 
development and relinquishment of a great gold 
mine. 
For a time we arranged and adjusted and 
shifted our equipment,—tables, books, vials, 
guns, nets, cameras and microscopes,—as a dog 
turns round and round before it composes itself 
to rest. And then one day I drew a long breath 
and looked about, and realized that I was at 
home. The newness began to pass from my 
little shelves and niches and blotters; in the dark- 
ness I could put my hand on flash or watch or 
gun; and in the morning I settled snugly into 
my woolen shirt, khakis, and sneakers, as if they 
were merely accessory skin. 
In the beginning we were three white men and 
four servants—the latter all young, all individ- 
ual, all picked up by instinct, except Sam, who 
was as inevitable as the tides. Our cook was too 
good-looking and too athletic to last. He had 
the reputation of being the fastest sprinter in 
Guiana, with a record, so we were solemnly told, 
of 9% seconds for the hundred—a veritable Mer- 
cury, as the last world’s record of which I knew 
was 9%. His stay with us was like the orbit of 
some comets, which make a single lap around the 
