ations 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.

[Illustration: 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: t