them, and then to disappear, only to come up again
for the sake of knowing what is afoùt.
Follows the weary blazing noon, from which all
seek shelter but the polers toiling inch by inch up
the river. Here and there a canoe darts past us, thé
single poler bending to his work with classic grace ;
girls with fair, smooth limbs and great piles upon their
backs regard us open-eyed with wonder ; a field of
tobacco on the sandy shore confirms the human note.
And so once more, the sunset, and the dark.
All through the night it is cold, and towards dawn
so cold that sleep becomes impossible. We all go
shivering down to the boat at six o’clock, just as the
sun is coming up over the tree-tops, a pale orb hung
in the mist. The river is shrouded in a dense fog,
and the spectacle, as his faint rays shoot out in widening
ribbons through its motionless curtains, is ghostly and
unreal. But an hour later all tracé of this is gone,
and the sunlight laughs on the water, and in the glades
and aisles of the forest.
Four boats with sweeping oars xome swiftly upon
us, in the last of them a_ fellow white man, dignity
upon his face and in the pose of his body. We measure
at a glance ; a second, and we shall pass each other for
ever. We raise our hats and pass on, and somewhere
in the jungle there is an echo of two belated “ Good-
mornings.” But brisk dialogues have been exchanged
between the crews, and a letter that has been waiting
for some such chance has been sent on the first stage
of its long journey home.