he neighborhood, and they agreed to hunt. They had no dogs and were
armed with crossbows, antiquated guns, and bows and arrows, but they showed
us the skins of two sambur in proof of their ability to secure game.

Like most of the other natives, with the exception of the Mosos on the Snow
Mountain, these men had no definite plan in hunting. The first day I went
out with them they indicated that we were to drive a hill not far from
camp. Without giving me an opportunity to reach a position in front of
them, they began to work up the hill, and I had a fleeting glimpse of a
sambur silhouetted against the sky as it dashed over the summit.

Two days later while I was out with ten other men who had a fairly good
pack of dogs, the first party succeeded in killing a female sambur. The
animal weighed at least five hundred pounds but they brought it to our camp
and we purchased the skin for ten _rupees_. South of Gen-kang the money of
the region, like all of Yuen-nan for some distance from the Burma frontier,
is the Indian _rupee_ which equals thirty-three cents American gold; in
that part of the province adjoining Tonking, French Indo-China money is
current.

My Journal of February 8 tells of our life at this camp, which we called
"Good Hope."

The weather is delightful for the sun is just warm enough for comfort
and the nights are clear and cold. How we do sleep! It seems hardly an
hour from the time we go to bed until we hear Wu rousing the servants,
and the crackle of the camp-fire outside the tent. We half dress in our
sleeping bags and with chattering teeth dash for the fire to lace our
high boots in its comfortable warmth.

After breakfast when it is full daylight, my wife and I inspect the
traps. The ground is white with frost and the trees and bushes are
dressed in silver. Every trap holds an individual interest and we
follow the line through the forest, resetting some, and finding new
mammals in others. Yvette has conquered her feminine repugnance far
enough to remove shrews or mice from the traps by releasing the spring
and dropping them on to a broad green leaf, but she never touches them.

We go back to meet the hunters and while I am away with the men, the
lady of the camp works at her photography. I return in the late
afternoon and after tea we wander through the woods together. It is the
most delightful part of the day when the sun goes down a