VI 
GUINEVERE THE MYSTERIOUS 
Agarn the Guiana jungle comes wonderfully 
to the eye and mysteriously to the mind; again 
my khakis and sneakers are skin-comfortable; 
again I am squatted on a pleasant mat of leaves 
in a miniature gorge, miles back of my Kartabo 
bungalow. Life elsewhere has already become 
unthinkable. I recall a place boiling with wor- 
ried people, rent with unpleasing sounds, and 
beset with unsatisfactory pleasures. In less than 
a year I shall long for a sight of these worried 
people, my ears will strain to catch the unpleas- 
ing sounds, and I shall plunge with joy into the 
unsatisfactory pleasures. ‘To-day, however, all 
these have passed from mind, and I settle down 
another notch, head snuggled on knees, and sway, 
elephant-fashion, with sheer joy, as a musky, ex- 
citing odor comes drifting, apparently by its 
own volition, down through the windless little 
gorge. 
If I permit a concrete, scientific reaction, I 
123 
