Overhead were tall spreading trees laden with blossomless orchids.
Under some of them was broad grassy shade; but the surrounding
wall of vegetation cut off all breeze. The way was intersected by
many roads of leaf-cutting ants, as level, wide and well-built in
their proportion as the old Roman highways, with such an
industrious throng going and coming upon them as one could find
nowhere equaled, unless it be on the Grand Trunk Road of India.
Then suddenly there appeared the hut that had been described to
me. I surrounded it and, hand upon the butt of my No. 38, closed
in upon the place, then rushed it with all forces.
There was not a sign of human life in the vicinity. The door was
tied shut with a single strand of old rope, but there was no
question that the fugitive might be hiding inside, for the reed
walls had holes in them large enough to drive a sheep through, and
there was nothing within to hide behind. I thrust an arm through
an opening and dragged the large and heavy earthenware water-jar
to me for a drink, and pushed on.
Squatter's cabins were now appearing, as contrasted with the
native bushman's peaked hut; sleeping-places thrown together of
tin cans, boxes and jungle rubbish, many negro shanties built of
I. C. C. scraps--all of which announced the vicinity of the canal.
Pages:
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239