The path wound in and out, its course easy to
follow by the shaft of light in the gloom.
Inside, the atmosphere was that of a great conservatory. A dozen
tropical growths mingled their odors into an indefinable whole; and the
effect was akin to that of a subtle exotic drug, lulling the senses,
filling the whole being with a languor, a relaxation, a pleasant
enervation which it seemed well not to throw off. Outside on the
prairie the sun burned harshly; within, the scented shadows shielded
away the sun and wrapped round one a drugged warmth all its own. The
path and the open spaces beneath the stubby trees permitted sufficient
circulation of air so the effect was not stifling; but no winds swept
through there; the perfumes lay heavily in the air, old and potent, and
breathing a mystic, sensuous lure.
Payne bent forward, peering into the mystic recesses of the growth,
susceptible to its magic thrall in spite of his hardheadedness.
Higgins, the engineer, kicked deeply into the black dirt of the bridle
path.
"Muck. Good enough. If your stuff's like this you're a rich man."
"Don't you notice anything else about this place?"
"What do you mean?" Higgins, less sensitive than his employer,
required more time to feel the jungle's spell.
"It seems to me like the air is perfumed with poison somehow; and the
poison is very easy to take.
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