IN THE SHADOW
animal growths, surviving their proper periods of evolution into higher types and flourishing exotically under conditions for which the hand of Nature never formed them.
A swamp like this is an hereditary ulcer on the face of the earth. A foul life beneath, forms a protective crust; shields it from a wholesome cleansing. It is to be treated as other infected wounds: opened, aërated, drained. Where this occurs, the malignant growth gives way to fresher, purer organisms, creatures of the epoch which constantly improve. If life were retrogressive the earth would have disappeared before the creation thereof.
Primitive creatures assume the aspect of environment; the mimicry of Nature. It is safer to merge than to contrast; also easier, and life is economic. A dark, somber shape which was forcing its way through the cypress swamp stood thus in no relief against the background. Under the misty arches of the emaciated trees with their ragged, moldy shrouds of moss, and through the fetid element which bathed the sinuous roots, this object hauled on its course. Toiling in and out, now backward to avoid the treacherous rattoons, now rapidly ahead, pawing slimy columns upholding the vague canopy above, toiled this dark, shapeless creature which seemed born of the blackness beneath. The water displaced in its passage gave way sullenly and without an undulation. The dead protested at this trespass of the living.
Gliding, sinister shapes coiled about the long lianas, slipped without a ripple into the ooze. Pale, diaphanous eyes, narrow and long, rose noiselessly from the slime to stare at the intruder. Behind, some raucous voice
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