1 Above the bush the trees stood in serried ranks.
2 I began to distinguish the gleam of eyes under the trees.
3 I might just as well have ordered a tree not to sway in the wind.
4 Finally I descended the hill, obliquely, towards the trees I had seen.
5 Near the same tree two more bundles of acute angles sat with their legs drawn up.
6 To the left a clump of trees made a shady spot, where dark things seemed to stir feebly.
7 Through my glasses I saw the slope of a hill interspersed with rare trees and perfectly free from undergrowth.
8 The twigs overhung the current thickly, and from distance to distance a large limb of some tree projected rigidly over the stream.
9 Sometimes I would pick out a tree a little way ahead to measure our progress towards Kurtz by, but I lost it invariably before we got abreast.
10 Going up that river was like traveling back to the earliest beginnings of the world, when vegetation rioted on the earth and the big trees were kings.
11 The living trees, lashed together by the creepers and every living bush of the undergrowth, might have been changed into stone, even to the slenderest twig, to the lightest leaf.
12 At night sometimes the roll of drums behind the curtain of trees would run up the river and remain sustained faintly, as if hovering in the air high over our heads, till the first break of day.
13 Black shapes crouched, lay, sat between the trees, leaning against the trunks, clinging to the earth, half coming out, half effaced within the dim light, in all the attitudes of pain, abandonment, and despair.
14 Trees, trees, millions of trees, massive, immense, running up high; and at their foot, hugging the bank against the stream, crept the little begrimed steamboat, like a sluggish beetle crawling on the floor of a lofty portico.
15 He rose, unsteady, long, pale, indistinct, like a vapor exhaled by the earth, and swayed slightly, misty and silent before me; while at my back the fires loomed between the trees, and the murmur of many voices issued from the forest.
16 The black bones reclined at full length with one shoulder against the tree, and slowly the eyelids rose and the sunken eyes looked up at me, enormous and vacant, a kind of blind, white flicker in the depths of the orbs, which died out slowly.
17 When next day we left at noon, the crowd, of whose presence behind the curtain of trees I had been acutely conscious all the time, flowed out of the woods again, filled the clearing, covered the slope with a mass of naked, breathing, quivering, bronze bodies.
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