94 EDGE OF THE JUNGLE 
rays, whose power must be greater than we real- 
ize. Beyond the monkey roosted Robert, the 
great macaw, wide-awake, watching me with all 
that broadside of intensive gaze of which only 
a parrot is capable. 
The three of us seemed to be the only living 
things in the world, and for a long time we— 
monkey, macaw, and man—listened. Then all 
but the man became uneasy. The monkey raised 
herself and listened, uncurled her tail, shifted, 
and listened. The macaw drew himself up, feath- 
ers close, forgot me, and listened. ‘They, un- 
like me, were not merely listening—they were 
hearing somethng. Then there, came, very 
slowly and deliberately, as if reluctant to break 
through the silent moonlight, a sound, low and 
constant, impossible to identify, but clearly audi- 
ble even to my ears. For just an instant longer 
it held, sustained and quivering, then swiftly rose 
into a crashing roar—the sound of a great tree 
falling. I sat up and heard the whole long de- 
scent; but at the end, after the moment of silence, 
there was no deep boom—the sound of the mighty 
bole striking and rebounding from the earth it- 
self. I wondered about this for a while; then the 
monkey and I went to sleep, leaving the macaw 
