110 EDGE OF THE JUNGLE 
phrases to be stopped and fettered with words, 
and I am neither scientist nor man nor naked 
organism, but just mind. With the coming of 
silence I look around and again consciously take 
in the scene. I am very glad to be alive, and 
to know that the possible dangers of jungle and 
water have not kept me armed and indoors. I 
feel, somehow, as if my very daring and gentle 
slipping-off of all signs of dominance and pro- 
tection on entering into this realm had made 
friends of all the rare but possible serpents and 
scorpions, sting-rays and perai, vampires and 
electric eels. For a while I know the happiness 
of Mowgli. 
And I think of people who would live more 
joyful lives in dense communities, who would be 
more tolerant, and more certain. of straightfor- 
ward friendship, if they could have as a back- 
ground a fundamental hour of living such as this, 
a leaven for the rest of what, j in comparison, seems. 
mere existence, 
“At last I go back between the bamboos and 
their shadows, from unreal reality into a definite- 
ness of cot and pajamas and electric torch. But 
wild nature still keeps touch with me; for as I 
write these lines, curled up on the edge of the 
