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For a long time he could hear them, then
just as he was on the verge of forgetting them altogether, some
dispute arose among them, and there began a vast uproar, squeals,
protests, comments, one voice ridiculously replete and
authoritative, ridiculously suggestive of a drunken judge with his
mouth full, and a shrill voice of grievance high above the others. . . .
The uproar of the bears died away at last, almost abruptly, and left
the jungle to the incessant night-jars. . . .
For what end was this life of the jungle?
All Benham's senses were alert to the sounds and appearances about
him, and at the same time his mind was busy with the perplexities of
that riddle. Was the jungle just an aimless pool of life that man
must drain and clear away? Or is it to have a use in the greater
life of our race that now begins? Will man value the jungle as he
values the precipice, for the sake of his manhood? Will he preserve
it?
Man must keep hard, man must also keep fierce. Will the jungle keep
him fierce?
For life, thought Benham, there must be insecurity.


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