hissing of venomous, poisonous snakes gliding stealthily through the grass on their unholy errands of death—these are the sounds which haunt the heart of the jungle. Ever and anon there comes a crack like the report of a gun and a great tree totters over and falls to the ground, a victim to the onslaughts of armies of deadly white ants, which, though insignificant in size, are yet strong enough to conquer these monstrous kings of the forest.
"In the dim twilight the jungle presents a wonderful blending of magnificence and awefulness, for it is simply teeming with lovely flowers—vampires, beautiful but deadly poisonous. Dainty orchids, fresh as the cheek of a maiden in winter-time and delicate as fairy gossameres, spring from cracks in the huge black tree trunks, and around these same trunks twine hideous reptiles of a reddish-black color, like the one which had imbedded its deadly fangs in my ankle … It was in the centre of this clearing that Warburton and I had spent the night. At the moment to which my thoughts return, I reclined against a tree. My face was ashen-gray; my lips colorless. Warburton stood above me, apparently in the best of health save for a slight nervousness which was barely perceptible.
"'You are sure you cannot walk?' he asked anxiously.
"'Positive,' I replied faintly.
"'Not even a little way?'
"'Not a step.'
"'But we must push on!' he burst out.
"I made no answer, but closed my eyes, for I was
