SEQUELS 275 
plunged suddenly upon a cosmos in the full up- 
roar of eons of precedent, unable to look ahead, 
while to look backward we must look down. 
Exactly a year ago I spent two hours in a 
clearing in the jungle back of Kartabo labora- 
tory, and let my eyes and ears have full swing.* 
Now in August of the succeeding year I came 
again to this clearing, and found it no more a 
clearing. Indeed so changed was it, that for 
weeks I had passed close by without a thought 
of the jungle meadow of the previous year, and 
now, what finally turned me aside from my usual 
trail, was a sound. Twelve months ago I wrote, 
“From the monotone of under-world sounds a 
strange little rasping detached itself, a reiter- 
ated, subdued scraping or picking. It carried 
my mind instantly to the throbbing theme of the 
Niebelungs, onomatopoetic of the little ham- 
mers forever busy in their underground work. I 
circled a small bush at my side, and found that 
the sound came from one of the branches near 
the top; so with my glasses I began a systematic 
search.” This was as far as I ever got, for a flock 
of parrakeets exploded close at hand and blew 
the lesser sound out of mind. If I had stopped 
1See page 34. 
