A JUNGLE BEACH 93 
hold attention was not only direct and sensory, 
~—through sight and sound and scent,—but often 
indirect, seemingly by occult means. Time after 
time, on an impulse, I followed some casual line 
of thought and action, and found myself at last 
on or near the beach, on a lead that eventually 
would take me to the verge or into the water. 
Once I did what for me was a most unusual 
thing. I woke in the middle of the night with- 
out apparent reason. The moonlight was pour- 
ing in a white flood through the bamboos, and 
the jungle was breathless and silent. Through 
my window I could see Jennie, our pet monkey, 
lying aloft, asleep on her little verandah, head 
cushioned on both hands, tail curled around her 
dangling chain, as a spider guards her web- 
strands for hint of disturbing vibrations. I knew 
that the slightest touch on that chain would 
awaken her, and indeed it seemed as if the very 
thought of it had been enough; for she opened 
her eyes, sent me the highest of insect-like notes 
and turned over, pushing her head within the 
shadow of her little house. I wondered if ani- 
mals, too, were, like the Malays and so many 
savage tribes, afraid of the moonlight—the 
“luna-cy” danger in those strange color-strained 
