A JUNGLE BEACH 109 
able clothing. On one side is the dark river; on 
the other, the darker jungle full of gentle rus- 
tlings, low, velvety breaths of sound; and I slip 
into the water and swim out, out, out. Then I 
turn over and float along with the almost tangi- 
ble moonlight flooding down on face and water. 
Suddenly the whole air is broken by the chorus 
of big red baboons, which rolls and tumbles to- 
ward me in masses of sound along the surface 
and goes trembling, echoing on over shore and 
jungle, till hurled back by the answering chorus 
of another clan. It stirs one to the marrow, for 
there is far more in it than’ the mere roaring of 
monkeys; and I turn uneasily, and slowly surge 
back toward the sand, overhand now, making 
companionable splashes. 
And then again I stop, treading water softly, 
with face alone between river and sky; for the 
monkeys have ceased, and very faint and low, 
but blended in wonderful minor harmony, comes 
another chorus—from three miles down the river: 
the convicts singing hymns in their cells at mid- 
night. And I ground gently and sit in the sil- 
vered shadows with little bewildered shrimps 
flicking against me, and unlanguaged thoughts 
come and go—impossible similes, too poignant 
