THE DARK HIGHWAY. 
23 
hungrily. If man slackens his labour for a 
moment, the green tide of the jungle swallows 
his work in the twinkling of an eye. It is as 
relentless and intractable as the sea. 
The boatmen, down-country men, spoke of the 
river land with awe. It is a land of mystery, 
they said. Strange doings happen : men once 
persuaded to go there for work find it impossible 
to escape. The dark river with its swift and 
treacherous current turns jailer, and the silent 
forest sentinel. Human life is cheap—and the 
dividends of the companies are large. 
We listened, half incredulous, half impressed 
by their earnestness. Some such rumours had 
reached us already, before setting forth. The 
launch had been many days on the river and was 
at least two hundred miles from the nearest 
town. Two hundred miles from civilisation 
and the restraining influence of public opinion. 
Nature had become savage and ruthless. Men 
might well have become so too. 
The sun blazed down upon the river, upon 
the black shining rocks that edged it, basking 
places for numerous crocodiles, and upon the 
plumed edge of the monte, that shimmered 
and wavered in the heat. Against the sky 
a few dark specks wheeled in circles, or 
hung motionless. Vultures that watched for 
prey. 
Ahead of the boat, the shining loops of the 
river unwound themselves between the wide 
