others as they had treated me.
I was glad to find that the Sam-Sam boy had not deserted me for I had taken a kind of liking to him. He told me that the Malay who had accorded us hospitality had narrated to his countryman most terrible things about the Sakais, describing so many perils, and such ferocious treatment, which awaited those who risked getting into their midst, that even a man of dauntless courage would have shuddered. Nothing was said to me of this, but the man had informed the other three, who understood the Malay language, and between the four it was quickly decided to escape.
The boy had heard it all but did not give me any hint, never thinking that the wicked project of robbing and abandoning me would have been so speedily carried into effect.
I asked the only companion left me if he was disposed to be faithful to his engagement and to me, no matter where we went, or whom we met with, and he expressed his readiness to accompany me. The answer put me into better spirits and I made arrangements for continuing our journey.
We boiled enough rice and broiled enough fish to last us for two meals and then divided both in two parts. We each took our own share and wrapped it up in some leaves ready to eat when we made a brief halt on the banks of the many streams flowing through the forest.
With the remaining provisions we made two bundles, as bulky as seemed possible to carry, but their weight surpassed our strength so we were compelled to sacrifice a large quantity of our victuals which we put into a sack and left in the hut, hoping that there it would not be damaged by the rain, and afterwards, still well-laden, we once more set off.
Under the scorching rays of the sun and the weight of my burden I plodded on, philosophizing to myself—like a Boetius lost in the jungle—in order to draw some comforting conclusion out of this, my first, unpleasant adventure. But my philosophy soon took the form of certain meditations and comparisons that were not all serene. My thoughts flew to the heroes of the Bar-room and the Club to whom Sport means fatigue, boldness, development of the muscles, and sacrifice provided … that every athletic exercise, however slight, be followed up by a tepid or shower bath, massage, or the rest prescribed by the hygienist or trainer. I thought of those so-called explorers who enlighten the civilized part of the world upon the habits and customs of the uncivilized part; those literary swindlers who travel in a Pullman's car or some other vehicle, equally convenient and comfortable, to a safe place, near the land to be explored, there to make notes of the vague reports and yet more vague "they says" that circulate about the Aborigines in question, and afterwards with the help of their fertile imagination turn these mere voices into startling facts, add a few extraordinary occurrences in the Robinson Crusoe and Gulliver style (in which they themselves always play the principal part) and then present their interesting writings to the public as a scientific and instructive volume. I was inclined to envy them their ability and to admire the ineffable good-nature of Society that pays the expenses for these triumphs of Humbug.
At our approach the Sakais fled terrified from the hut.
p. 25.
"Ah!" I went on grumbling to myself, and it seemed to relieve me to thus apostrophize them in their absence, "if you were only here now, you gentlemen of sportive tastes and you, illustrious explorers of wonderful lands and mysterious islands, how I should like to see your virtue put to the test: here in the forest from whose black depths a poisoned dart may at any moment fly towards you as a Messenger of Death or from whence a huge wild beast may, unexpectedly, rush furiously forth: here where one's steps may be suddenly arrested by the up-rising of a venomous snake. Who knows what an assistance to your fervid fantasy it would be to hear in the freedom of Nature's own menagerie the sinister hissing of the serpent, the bellowing of the elephant, the lowing of the sladan, the roar of the tiger, the grunt of the wild-boar, the squeal of the monkey, and the peevish notes of the cockatoo all blended into a formidable concert, the accompaniment being the rustling of reeds and climbing plants, moved more by animal life than by the air; the fluttering of leaves; the humming and buzzing of myriads of insects: the murmuring of the brooks: voices and sounds that announce to the traveller a continual increase of danger".
But I must apologize to my readers for this digression. The jungle and its concerts often make one commit the sin of philosophy, and, in thus sinning, I had involuntarily forgotten you.
Footnotes:
[2] An Italian celebrated for his psychological studies.—Translator's note.
CHAPTER III.
A fearful nocturnal concert—Fire! Fire!—A clearing in the forest—A general flight—Masters of the camp!—Mortal weariness—A morning greeting without any compliments—A first meeting—In the village—ALÀ against the Orang-putei.
Not having found even a trace of human habitation either on the second day of our march we were once more compelled to prepare a shelter for the night as best we could. We made two little alcoves of boughs and leaves, and having satisfied the cravings of appetite we lighted a fire on each side of our miniature encampment, piled up enough wood at hand to keep them burning, and settled ourselves down to sleep, or rather one of us had to sleep whilst the other watched, as we had agreed to take turns. In our ignorance we had calculated upon finding ourselves surrounded by a solemn nocturnal stillness in these remote regions; such calm quietness as one enjoys during the night on the Alpine and Appennine woods. We were soon made aware of our mistake, however, for the monkeys, frightened at the glare of the fires, raised a hubbub of protests, their shrill cries and chattering voices reaching to the most acute notes. Leaping up to the very highest branches of the trees they began to shower down upon us broken twigs, leaves, nuts and other fruits. They seemed to be holding a meeting overhead at which each one—and they were a multitude—tried to gabble out a speech and to make himself heard above all the others.
Deeper and more ominous notes were not long wanting to complete the infernal chorus. From the dense, dark forest came the blood-curdling roars of tigers, panthers, and bears mingled with the loud bellowing and heavy stampede of elephants; we could distinctly here the cracking of boughs hurled to the ground in their furious course, and the crashing of bamboo, which with them is a favourite food. One might have said that an immense legion of demons had invaded the forest, because in its intense, impenetrable obscurity, only dimly lighted for a yard or two by the blaze of our fires, everything seemed to turn into life. Every creature, every reed, every leaf had a voice of its own; a howl, a rustle, a sigh that filled the night air with diabolical sounds. It was a fearful pandemonium; a mighty strife twixt victim and victor; an insatiable lust for blood; a ferocious manifestation of ferocious love.
"Fire! Fire! let us put on fuel!" and we threw log after log upon the burning piles whilst thousands of sparks flew upwards and the bright flames cast a red glow around.
But the great voice of the forest did not cease; it still spoke on in the roars and the bellows of the strong and in the yells and wails of the weak. It rose up against us, as though pronouncing a malediction upon the intruders, upon the profaners of those mysteries that, in the inmost recesses of the jungle, great Mother Nature celebrates during the night.
For hours we remained there, in a state it is useless for me even to attempt to describe, and then as day-break approached the fearful clamour began gradually to die away. Evidently at the first streak of dawn the wild beasts had returned to their dens. The monkeys were the last to finish as they had been the first to begin, but what was their chattering and gibbering compared to that terrible chorus which,