BY MOTOR THROUGH THE EAST COAST OF SUMATRA 



81 



Sumatra such is not the condition a large 

 part of the time. 



The road from Medan to the interior, 

 however, gave no warning of what was 

 to follow. Leaving the plains and the 

 tobacco plantations, it gradually ascended 

 through wilder country, and presently, 

 with well-engineered zigzags, began to 

 climb into the mountains. 



At 3,000 feet altitude we came to the 

 tiny sanatorium of Bandar Baroe, a re- 

 cuperating station in the clearer atmos- 

 phere of the hills for Europeans of the 

 Deli Company enervated by the un- 

 healthy life of the lowlands. It was a 

 wee bungalow of three or four rooms 

 with a wide, pointed roof of thatch, and 

 from its perch on top of the usual piles 

 it looked out between tall tree-ferns 

 over the plain below. 



Here we spent the night, having first 

 applied to the Controleur for permis- 

 sion. The native in charge had no sup- 

 plies, so we had recourse to our own for 

 the first of a series of "tinned meals" 

 that continued without interruption until 

 we returned to Medan. 



A WAGON TRAIN OE SHIFTING SHADOWS 



In the evening, stretched out in com- 

 fortable wicker chairs on the bungalow's 

 little veranda, we watched a train of 

 loaded buffalo carts winding stiffly up 

 the hill in a heavy rain. The air was so 

 fresh and cool it was difficult to think 

 of the hot, sultry coast less than forty 

 miles away. The rain pattered gently 

 on the ground and rolled off the over- 

 hanging thatch of the eaves in big drops, 

 while the creaking of wheels and soft 

 cries of the drivers drifted up from the 

 laboring freighters on the road. 



For more than an hour the train crept 

 slowly past in a single file of vague, in- 

 determinable shapes, with swaying lan- 

 terns casting dim circles of light and 

 queer shifting shadows in the misty 

 darkness. We watched in fascination 

 while the tiny spots appeared out of the 

 jungle below and lengthened into a twink- 

 ling line which wound up past the bunga- 

 low and disappeared one by one above us 

 into the night and the forest. 



Early the next morning we continued 

 our climb over the pass. The semi- 

 tropical vegetation which had succeeded 



the coarse grass of the denuded plains 

 gave way in turn to magnificent virgin 

 forests, unbroken except for the narrow, 

 winding path of the road. 



THE SUMATRAN JUNGEE 



The enormous straight-trunked trees, 

 ensnared by giant creepers, vines, and 

 huge air plants, made so thick a canopy 

 overhead that only a dim twilight filtered 

 in, and that failed to reach the ground 

 through the dense, impenetrable tangle of 

 vegetation. 



Little brooks of clear water rushed 

 steeply down the mountainside, hurrying 

 along to the sluggish yellow rivers of the 

 plains their tiny contributions for the ex- 

 tension of Sumatra's coast. Butterflies 

 flitted in the blue-black shadows ; jungle 

 fowl, their brilliance all subdued in the 

 obscure half light, vanished silently from 

 the edges of the road as we approached, 

 and other little creeping and fugitive 

 things sought the security of the unbe- 

 traying jungle. 



Insects with voices out of all propor- 

 tion to their probable size screamed 

 shrilly from the branches, and the occa- 

 sional whistle of a bird or the dull boom 

 of a falling tree echoed through the 

 silent, dark recesses of the wood. 



Much of the life of the jungle we saw 

 along this little frequented road which 

 opened up the very heart of the virgin 

 forest, but infinitely more were we our- 

 selves observed. Sometimes the crack 

 of a broken branch betrayed the hurried 

 withdrawal of a larger animal, or a 

 whirr of wings that of some startled 

 bird ; but only one's own sixth sense told 

 of the hidden watchers who silently fol- 

 lowed our progress with wondering, un- 

 friendly eyes. 



PURSUED BY HOSTS OE CURIOUS MONKEYS 



The swaying of branches overhead as 

 we zigzagged up the pass did not mean 

 wind in the quiet forest ; it meant mon- 

 keys, and their antics were an unfailing 

 amusement, whether we kept on or stop- 

 ped to watch them. Some waited in 

 silence until we drew near, then plunged 

 back into the forest with a crash of 

 branches which inevitably produced on 

 us the shock they seemed to have de- 

 signed. Some tore furiously along be- 



