against a swiftly flowing, muddy current.
The great tangled roots of these trees stood up out of the water like a fretwork of
lace, and the interwoven branches above our heads shut out the glassy glare of
the sun. We pushed on until the dim twilight faded out, and only a
phosphorescent glow on the water remained to reveal the snags that marked our
course.
The launch was anchored for the night close under the bank, where the maze of
mangroves was beginning to give place to the solid ground and the jungle.
Myriads of fireflies settled down on us and hung from the low limbs of the
overhanging trees, relieving the hot, murky darkness with their thousands of
throbbing lamps.
From time to time a crocodile splashed in the water as he slid heavily down the
clayey bank at the bow.
In the trees and rubber-vines all about us a colony of long-armed wah-wah
monkeys whistled and chattered, and farther away the sharp, rasping note of a
cicada kept up a continuous protest at our invasion.
At intervals the long, quivering yell of a tiger frightened the garrulous monkeys
into silence, and made us peer apprehensively toward the impenetrable blackness
of the jungle.
Aboo Din came to me as I was arranging my mosquito curtains for the night. He
was casting quick, timid glances over his shoulder as he talked.
“Tuan, I no like this place. Too close bank. Ten boat-lengths down stream better.
Baboo swear by Allah he see faces behind trees,—once, twice. Baboo good
eyes.”
I shook off the uncanny feeling that the place was beginning to cast over me, and
turned fiercely on the faithful Aboo Din.
He slunk away with a low salaam, muttering something about the Heaven-Born
being all wise, and later I saw him in deep converse with his first-born under a
palm-thatched cadjang on the bow.