A DAY IN THE JUNGLE1 BY C. R. KELLOGG In the lives of us all certain days stand out with a distinctness that time cannot dim, and one such came to us not long ago when on a short hunting trip in a South China jungle. Tiger hunting might have been given as the reason for our being there, though as a matter of fact, unfortunately or fortunately as the case might be, the tiger element did not enter very deeply into the situation. To get to this particular spot we had come by boat and on foot a distance of some thirty-five miles, but as the crow flies we could not have been more than twenty-five miles from Foochow, a city teeming with nearly a million souls. The boat trip of some fifteen miles had been made at night and, with the exception of our having been run down by a large junk and nearly upset in the inky blackness, had been without special interest. The overland trip, on the contrary, was full of fascination and absorbing interest, as it was made in the daytime, and Nature had seemingly planned in every way to make it a perfect day. The first part of the journey lay over an irregular stone road that wound tortuously through low-lying fields of rich black soil, where things were growing luxuriantly in spite of the fact that it was the latter part of January. The winding canals were marked by low spreading orange trees, whose bases were heaped high with mud that had been brought with prodigious labor 1 From the China Journal of Arts and Sciences (Shanghai English-language scientific monthly), February from the bottoms of the canals and ponds, while in the fields the rice plants had given way to trim rows of carefully tended vegetables or patches of golden rape in full bloom. Birds common to the fields about Foochow were abundant here. The common magpie and his larger cousin, the white-necked crow, hopped about the fields, or flapped noisily from tree to tree; wagtails minced daintily through the lowland places, picking out insect larvæ from the wayside puddles; while the daurian redstart and grayheaded bunting, both winter visitors from North China, flitted nervously about in the low bushes at the roadside, adding a most interesting touch of color and life to a day already perfect in every respect. Soon the trail left the valley and followed the bed of a rushing, roaring mountain stream, changing the scenery and life. The level fields gave way to hills covered with low shrubbery in which might be distinguished the Chinese 'gooseberry' and the wild teaoil plant. The sweet gum and candleberry trees, both decked in their bright red winter coats, stood along the hillsides, and at their feet were the wild azaleas, bare now, but only awaiting the touch of spring to open into a burst of crimson glory. The bird life too was different. Along the edge of the stream the plumbeous water redstart darted from one wet rock to another, its ever-flitting rufous tail standing out in strong contrast to the dusky slate of the body. The tiny kingfisher sat motionless on a branch overhanging the water or darted swiftly over the stream, while now and then its larger and more beautiful cousins, the white-breasted kingfisher and the black-capped kingfisher, flew past, beautifully arrayed in turquoise green and cobalt blue, respectively. Only once did we see the striking piedkingfisher, conspicuously spotted black and white, as it poised over the stream, wings aflutter, ready to drop like a plummet on any fish that might venture too near the surface; but the sight of this handsome fellow alone was worth the whole trip. From the quieter pools along the stream the pond heron and egret rose lazily from the water's edge and flapped awkwardly into near-by trees; while turtledoves, frightened at our approach, winged their way to safety. It was indeed a day in which Nature was in one of her pleasantest moods and willing to show her treasures to any sympathetic observer. Several days were spent in this little valley, and we grew to love the place. A busy stream, clear and swift, teeming with fish and attracting birds to its shaded banks, wound its way through the centre of the valley. The paddy fields along the foothills, some bearing their winter crops of horse beans, rape, or wheat, others bare in their winter's rest, with the high mountains, sparingly wooded in a few places but for the most part bare, towering eighteen hundred or two thousand feet above them, all made a picture never to be forgotten. Not the least pleasing part of the scene was the little villages tucked away in protecting ravines of the hills, shaded by immense banyan or camphor trees and flanked by the ever-present jungle, out of which altogether too often creep tigers and other marauding creatures. The day after our arrival we secured a guide to lead us out to the jungle where a man-eating tiger was supposed to be lurking, and after directing us to the most likely spot he turned over to us the goat he had been leading and hastily left us. We tied the bleating goat to a bush in an open spot and then settled ourselves into the long grass to await the appearance of the tiger. The day was cloudy, but warm and balmy, casting a drowsy spell over us in spite of the fact that we were in the territory of the famous 'Blue Tiger,' and aside from cramped muscles, from long sitting in one position, we were quite comfortable. We were on the edge of the jungle, and a bit of its life was revealed to us. Twitterings and low calls arose from clumps of bushes, telling of the presence of the reed warbler, and after a while, curiosity getting the better of caution, the tiny feathered creatures appeared, darting from grass clump to grass clump, disappearing and reappearing with great alacrity, and making with their wings the curious snapping sound so peculiar to them. Presently several gorgeous blue magpies, resplendent in their sky-blue coats and red bills and feet, screamed from the low trees on the mountain-side or sailed calmly across the ravine, their long barred tails streaming tremulously behind. Redbacked shrikes, perched on the topmost twigs of the shrubs or tips of the jungle grass, scolded and chattered back and forth, doubtless keeping watch over the larder near by containing locusts or lizards impaled on the thorns. Bulbuls, traveling in small flocks, chattered and fluttered about in the low bushes, seldom descending to the ground. Every once in a while a black-eared kite glided silently across the ravine, looking for prey that was disabled or that could be taken unawares; and the moment the shadow of this archenemy of the little folk of the jungle appeared all life disappeared as if by magic not a bird could be seen, and not the slightest noise or sign of life remained, where a moment before all was life and nervous activity. As the shadow disappeared, gradually the scoldings and twitterings were renewed, tiny birds reappeared from clumps of grass and shrubs, and the stream of jungle life was once more renewed, only to disappear again at the recurrence of the shadow. Every snapping of a twig, each rustling of the blades of grass, every sighing of the wind through the stiff coarse reeds, caused us, hearts palpitating, to look sharply about us, half expecting to see a striped cat creep out of the jungle grass and charge the inexperienced hunters huddled behind the brush screen. Knowing the habits of the reed warblers and bulbuls, each time a loud chattering or scolding arose from the hillside we would suddenly start, expecting to see the birds following the prowling tiger as is their wont, flying at him, pecking at his flanks, and scolding at the top of their voices. As the long afternoon wore away, however, it became apparent that Old Stripes was either away from his kill of two days previous, or else was not hungry and could not be tempted by our goat. About three o'clock in the afternoon a party of woodcutters appeared across the ravine on the opposite mountainside, talking and shouting to keep off any possible prowlers. In a region where man-eating tigers are at work all the time, and where woodcutters disappear mysteriously week by week, it pays to be careful. Soon the woodcutters left - for they realize that after mid-afternoon any mountain trail through the jungle is likely to harbor a striped prowler, freshly awakened from his sleep and with a gnawing appetite to appease. With the departure of the woodcutters quiet again reigned in the jungle, and the afternoon wore on toward its close. Just before dark is the most wonderful time to be in the jungle. Then there comes a hush to all sounds and everything is quiet. There is then no chattering of the birds, no scolding from the treetops, or darting to and fro in the clumps of grass. A deathlike stillness, almost portentous, pervades the jungle, and there are no signs of living creatures, only the rustling of the wind through the coarse grass. From away down in the valley below sounds were wafted to us faintly as in a dream. We heard as from a different world the sounds of men, and they seemed to have no connection with us in our seclusion-theirs a world of activity, and ours a world of repose and tranquillity. The lowing of the cattle returning from the grassy hills, the barking of the dogs, the crowing of the cocks, and the voices of people, all came muffled to our retreat on the hillside to remind us of the life and activities of men, now seemingly so far from us. In the jungle a hush had fallen on everything. No longer were there chatterings or scoldings from the brush, and the silent clumps of grass and low bushes were apparently deserted of all life. Nature seemed to be quietly sleeping- resting perhaps before awakening to the mysterious activities of the night life in the jungle. The breeze freshened, and a cold wind, presaging the rapid approach of night, began to blow down the ravine. A belated turtledove winged his way silently but with lightninglike speed into the ravine, to alight with a subdued whir in a near-by dead tree to spend the night. Here in the semitropics the shadows of night descend rapidly, so at the first sign of the approaching darkness we stretched our cramped limbs, untied the shivering goat, and hurried out of the jungle. PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT. VII1 BY CAPTAIN NICOLA POPOFF I Do not know whether the telegrams Major Maori wrote out when he was arrested in Chita were dispatched to their destination, or simply filed with the papers in the case, but five or six days later a telegram came from our War Minister, General Sukhomlinoff, ordering us to release the fellow and to return him his documents. This order was immediately obeyed, except that we kept the plans of the railway, which I later sent to our General Staff at Petrograd. The military authorities at Chita naturally protested against let ting Maori go, and photographed every document they found in his possession before it was returned to him. In fact, they decided to bring a formal charge of espionage against him notwithstanding their instructions from higher up, and to place him on trial before a military tribunal. This action started an endless exchange of notes between the two Governments, which continued until the outbreak of the World War and then stopped. I was convinced that Major Maori had bought these plans from Mr. G, the chief construction engineer of the Transbaikal Railway at Irkutsk. We learned that this man had visited the Japanese brothel the night before the Major left, and discovered afterward that Maori had stopped at Omsk for twenty-four hours on his way from Petrograd to Irkutsk and had procured the plans of the western sec1 From a Confidential Journal. Copyright by the Living Age Company. All publication rights reserved. tion of the railway at that time. We had previously learned that Mr. G also was living above his means. He spent large sums every night carousing in bars, music halls, and brothels. But our closest observation of his movements showed no more than that he was spending money lavishly on wine and women. We were unable at the time to learn of any direct communication between him and the Japanese spies in the city. Later we discovered, through Miamura's talks with Lieutenant Mthat he had his dealings with the Japanese in the brothel just mentioned. Upon presenting proofs of the fact he was promptly removed from his post. At Omsk we suspected a draftsman who became suddenly rich and had resigned his position, but we were not able to present sufficient evidence of his treason to convict him. Miamura remained at Irkutsk about a month. At times he drank so much vodka that he could not return to his own lodging and slept at the Lieutenant's. When sober he was silent and reserved, but when intoxicated he talked constantly. A few days before he left Irkutsk he arrived at Lieutenant M-'s room already under the influence of liquor and started to describe a plan he had of giving lessons in Japanese to Russian officers of the Intelligence Division. He thought this an exceedingly bright scheme. First of all, he could learn a good deal of interest directly from the officers themselves. In the second place, he thought he could persuade the offi cers to give him some Japanese documents to translate. Last of all, he planned to feed up the officers with false information about Japanese espionage service in Siberia, and thus put the Russians on the wrong track. He also talked a good deal about the Intelligence Department at Port Arthur, which was training agents for spy service in several foreign countries, and boasted a great deal about what these men would be able to accomplish. A few days after this conversation my agents reported that Miamura was sitting in a little drinking place called The Volga, not far from the building occupied by our military map division. It was a place to which officers and soldiers employed in that department frequently resorted. Miamura engaged in conversation with one of these soldiers and parted from him on very friendly terms. That same night we learned from Miamura's conversation with Lieutenant Mall the details of this talk. The spy wanted to get several maps prepared from the latest surveys made by our topographers. The man who had been supplying such maps to him had completed his term of service in the army and had returned home, and Miamura was looking for someone to take his place. That had been the reason for his visit to the restaurant. His new acquaintance had told him that the maps he desired were still in the process of drafting and would not be printed for three or four months. He added that it would be impossible for him to get them anyway, for such papers were now carefully guarded, that Cossack sentries were posted around the machinery and in all parts of the building while maps were being printed, and that every piece of paper used was numbered and accounted for. Miamura concluded his relation of these events to Lieutenant M- by saying that he had made up his mind to come back to Irkutsk nevertheless, and to get the maps he wanted even if it took several months. 'In spite of the Cossacks?' the Lieutenant asked. Miamura laughed and said: "The Cossacks are there only while the work is being done. Then they leave with the rest of the employees. What is to prevent my getting into the place with my own paper and printing my own map from their plates? It won't be as fine a piece of workmanship, but it will be quite sufficient for our purpose.' At a farewell supper which the two had together in Lieutenant M-'s room just before Miamura left Irkutsk, the spy was particularly loquacious and free-spoken. He told the Lieutenant that Major Siraisi did not consider him a good man for intelligence work and had asked the Department to send another student officer in his place. He added that the Department heads in ChangChun also considered Major Siraisi unsatisfactory, that they were keeping him only on account of his former services, and intended soon to replace him by another officer who would be put in charge of all Japanese espionage of Siberia. The Major had built up a very extensive organization, to be sure, but it was not giving the results they wanted. The whole service needed to be braced up. Henceforth the Military Intelligence Section was going to send only carefully trained agents to Siberia and would no longer employ volunteers and amateurs. The new men were to be stationed not only in Irkutsk but at other important points. Then the Department planned to take up the Korean matter again. Miamura attributed the failure of Japan's previous work among these people to Siraisi's mismanagement and ill-advised choice of agents. A number of technical secrets came |