the research magnificent-第7节

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he　day　the　air　had　been　still。　Immediately　after　the　sunset　there　had　been　a　great　crying　of　peacocks　in　the　distance；　but　that　was　over　now；　the　crickets；　however；　were　still　noisy；　and　a　persistent　sound　had　become　predominant；　an　industrious　unmistakable　sound；　a　sound　that　took　his　mind　back　to　England；　in　midsummer。　　It　was　like　a　watchman's　rattlea　nightjar！　So　there　were　nightjars　here　in　India；　too！　　One　might　have　expected　something　less　familiar。　　And　then　came　another　cry　from　far　away　over　the　heat…stripped　tree…tops；　a　less　familiar　cry。　　It　was　repeated。　　Was　that　perhaps　some　craving　leopard；　a　tiger　cat；　a　panther？　〃HUNT；　HUNT〃；　that　might　be　a　deer。　Then　suddenly　an　angry　chattering　came　from　the　dark　trees　quite　close　at　hand。　　A　monkey？　。　。　。　These　great；　scarce　visible；　sweeping　movements　through　the　air　were　bats。　。　。　。　Of　course；　the　day　jungle　is　the　jungle　asleep。　　This　was　its　waking　hour。　　Now　the　deer　were　arising　from　their　forms；　the　bears　creeping　out　of　their　dens　amidst　the　rocks　and　blundering　down　the　gullies；　the　tigers　and　panthers　and　jungle　cats　stalking　noiselessly　from　their　lairs　in　the　grass。　　Countless　creatures　that　had　hidden　from　the　heat　and　pitiless　exposure　of　the　day　stood　now　awake　and　alertly　intent　upon　their　purposes；　grazed　or　sought　water；　flitting　delicately　through　the　moonlight　and　shadows。　　The　jungle　was　awakening。　　Again　Benham　heard　that　sound　like　the　belling　of　a　stag。　。　。　。　This　was　the　real　life　of　the　jungle；　this　night　life；　into　which　man　did　not　go。　　Here　he　was　on　the　verge　of　a　world　that　for　all　the　stuffed　trophies　of　the　sportsman　and　the　specimens　of　the　naturalist　is　still　almost　as　unknown　as　if　it　was　upon　another　planet。　　What　intruders　men　are；　what　foreigners　in　the　life　of　this　ancient　system！　He　looked　over　his　shoulder；　and　there　were　the　two　little　tents；　one　that　sheltered　Kepple　and　one　that　awaited　him；　and　beyond；　in　an　irregular　line；　glowed　the　ruddy　smoky　fires　of　the　men。　　One　or　two　turbaned　figures　still　flitted　about；　and　there　was　a　voice　low；　monotonousit　must　have　been　telling　a　tale。　　Further；　sighing　and　stirring　ever　and　again；　were　tethered　beasts；　and　then　a　great　pale　space　of　moonlight　and　the　clumsy　outlines　of　the　village　well。　The　clustering　village　itself　slept　in　darkness　beyond　the　mango　trees；　and　still　remoter　the　black　encircling　jungle　closed　in。　　One　might　have　fancied　this　was　the　encampment　of　newly…come　invaders；　were　it　not　for　the　larger　villages　that　are　overgrown　with　thickets　and　altogether　swallowed　up　again　in　the　wilderness；　and　for　the　deserted　temples　that　are　found　rent　asunder　by　the　roots　of　trees　and　the　ancient　embankments　that　hold　water　only　for　the　drinking　of　the　sambur　deer。　。　。　。　Benham　turned　his　face　to　the　dim　jungle　again。　。　。　。　He　had　come　far　out　of　his　way　to　visit　this　strange　world　of　the　ancient　life；　that　now　recedes　and　dwindles　before　our　new　civilization；　that　seems　fated　to　shrivel　up　and　pass　altogether　before　the　dry　advance　of　physical　science　and　material　organization。　　He　was　full　of　unsatisfied　curiosities　about　its　fierce　hungers　and　passions；　its　fears　and　cruelties；　its　instincts　and　its　well…nigh　incommunicable　and　yet　most　precious　understandings。　　He　had　long　ceased　to　believe　that　the　wild　beast　is　wholly　evil；　and　safety　and　plenty　the　ultimate　good　for　men。　。　。　。　Perhaps　he　would　never　get　nearer　to　this　mysterious　jungle　life　than　he　was　now。　It　was　intolerably　tantalizing　that　it　should　be　so　close　at　hand　and　so　inaccessible。　。　。　。　As　Benham　sat　brooding　over　his　disappointment　the　moon；　swimming　on　through　the　still　circle　of　the　hours；　passed　slowly　over　him。　　The　lights　and　shadows　about　him　changed　by　imperceptible　gradations　and　a　long　pale　alley　where　the　native　cart　track　drove　into　the　forest；　opened　slowly　out　of　the　darkness；　slowly　broadened；　slowly　lengthened。　　It　opened　out　to　him　with　a　quality　of　invitation。　。　。　。　There　was　the　jungle　before　him。　　Was　it　after　all　so　inaccessible？　〃Come！〃　the　road　said　to　him。　Benham　rose　and　walked　out　a　few　paces　into　the　moonlight　and　stood　motionless。　Was　he　afraid？　Even　now　some　hungry　watchful　monster　might　lurk　in　yonder　shadows；　watching　with　infinite　still　patience。　　Kepple　had　told　him　how　they　would　sit　still　for　hoursstaring　unblinkingly　as　cats　stare　at　a　fireand　then　crouch　to　advance。　　Beneath　the　shrill　overtone　of　the　nightjars；　what　noiseless　grey　shapes；　what　deep　breathings　and　cracklings　and　creepings　might　there　not　be？　。　。　。　Was　he　afraid？　That　question　determined　him　to　go。　He　hesitated　whether　he　should　take　a　gun。　　A　stick？　　A　gun；　he　knew；　was　a　dangerous　thing　to　an　inexperienced　man。　　No！　　He　would　go　now；　even　as　he　was　with　empty　hands。　　At　least　he　would　go　as　far　as　the　end　of　that　band　of　moonlight。　　If　for　no　other　reason　than　because　he　was　afraid。　　NOW！　For　a　moment　it　seemed　to　him　as　though　his　feet　were　too　heavy　to　lift　and　then；　hands　in　pockets；　khaki…clad；　an　almost　invisible　figure；　he　strolled　towards　the　cart…track。　Come　to　that；　he　halted　for　a　moment　to　regard　the　distant　fires　of　the　men。　　No　one　would　miss　him。　　They　would　think　he　was　in　his　tent。　　He　faced　the　stirring　quiet　ahead。　　The　cart…track　was　a　rutted　path　of　soft；　warm　sand；　on　which　he　went　almost　noiselessly。　A　bird　squabbled　for　an　instant　in　a　thicket。　　A　great　white　owl　floated　like　a　flake　of　moonlight　across　the　track　and　vanished　without　a　sound　among　the　trees。　Along　the　moonlit　path　went　Benham；　and　when　he　passed　near　trees　his　footsteps　became　noisy　with　the　rustle　and　crash　of　dead　leaves。　The　jungle　was　full　of　moonlight；　twigs；　branches；　creepers；　grass…　clumps　came　out　acutely　vivid。　　The　trees　and　bushes　stood　in　pools　of　darkness；　and　beyond　were　pale　stretches　of　misty　moonshine　and　big　rocks　shining　with　an　unearthly　lustre。　　Things　seemed　to　be　clear　and　yet　uncertain。　　It　was　as　if　they　dissolved　or　retired　a　little　and　then　returned　to　solidity。　A　sudden　chattering　broke　out　overhead；　and　black　across　the　great　stars　soared　a　flying　squirrel　and　caught　a　twig；　and　ran　for　shelter。　　A　second　hesitated　in　a　tree…top　and　pursued。　　They　chased　each　other　and　vanished　abruptly。　　He　forgot　his　sense　of　insecurity　in　the　interest　of　these　active　little　silhouettes。　　And　he　noted　how　much　bigger　and　more　wonderful　the　stars　can　look　when　one　sees　them　through　interlacing　branches。　Ahead　was　darkness；　but　not　so　dark　when　he　came　to　it　that　the　track　was　invisible。　　He　was　at　the　limit　of　his　intention；　but　now　he　saw　that　that　had　been　a　childish　project。　　He　would　go　on；　he　would　walk　right　into　the　jungle。　　His　first　disinclination　was　conquered；　and　the　soft　intoxication　of　the　subtropical　moonshine　was　in　his　blood。　。　。　。　　But　he　wished　he　could　walk　as　a　spirit　walks；　without　this　noise　of　leaves。　。　。　。　Yes；　this　was　very　wonderful　and　beautiful；　and　there　must　always　be　jungles　for　men　to　walk　in。　　Always　there　must　be　jungles。　。　。　。　Some　small　beast　snarled　and　bolted　from　under　his　feet。　　He　stopped　sharply。　　He　had　come　into　a　darkness　under　great　boughs；　and　now　he　stood　still　as　the　little　creature　scuttled　away。　　Beyond　the　track　emerged　into　a　dazzling　whiteness。　。　。　。　In　the　stillness　he　could　hear　the　deer　belling　again　in　the　distance；　and　then　came　a　fuss　of　monkeys　in　a　group　of　trees　near　at　hand。　　He　remained　still　until　this　had　died　away　into　mutterings。　Then　on　the　verge　of　movement　he　was　startled　by　a　ripe　mango　that　slipped　from　its　stalk　and　fell　out　of　the　tree　and　struck　his　hand。　It　took　a　little　time　to　understand　that；　and　then　he　laughed；　and　his　muscles　relaxed；　and　he　went　on　again。　A　thorn　caught　at　him　and　he　disentangled　himself。　He　crossed　the　open　space；　and　the　moon　was　like　a　great　shield　of　light　spread　out　above　him。　　All　the　world　seemed　swimming　in　its　radiance。　　The　stars　were　like　lamps　in　a　mist　of　silvery　blue。　The　track　led　him　on　across　white　open　spaces　of　shrivelled　grass　and　sand；　amidst　trees　where　shadows　made　black　patternings　upon　the　silver；　and　then　it　plunged　into　obscurities。　　For　a　time　it　lifted；　and　then　on　one　hand　the　bush　fell　away；　and　he　saw　across　a　vast　moonlit　valley　wide　undulations　of　open　cultivation；　belts　of　jungle；　copses；　and　a　great　lake　as　black　as　ebony。　　For　a　time　the　path　ran　thus　open；　and　then　the　jungle　closed　in　again　and　there　were　more　thickets；　more　levels　of　grass；　and　in　one　place　far　overhead　among　the　branches　he　heard　and　stood　for　a　time　perplexed　at　a　vast　deep　humming　of　bees。　。　。　。　Presently　a　black　monster　with　a　hunched　back　went　across　his　path　heedless　of　him　and　making　a　great　noise　in　the　leaves。　　He　stood　quite　still　until　it　had　gone。　　He　could　not　tell　whether　it　was　a　boar　or　hyaena；　most　probably；　he　thought；　a　boar　because　of　the　heaviness　of　its　rush。　The　path　dropped　downhill　for　a　time；　crossed　a　ravine；　ascended。　He　passed　a　great　leafless　tree　on　which　there　were　white　flowers。　On　the　ground　also；　in　the　darkness　under　the　tree；　there　were　these　flowers；　they　were　dropping　noiselessly；　and　since　they　were　visible　in　the　shadows；　it　seemed　to　him　that　they　must　be　phosphorescent。　And　they　emitted　a　sweetish　scent　that　lay　heavily　athwart　the　path。　Presently　he　passed　another