few natives crossed at the ferry during our stay, for it is a long way
from the main road and the climb out of the gorge is too formidable to be
undertaken if the Salween can possibly be crossed higher up where the
valley is wide and shallow. While we were camped at the river the heat was
most uncomfortable during the middle of the day and was but little
mitigated by the wind which blew continually. During mid-summer the valley
at this point must be a veritable furnace and doubtless reeks with fever.
We slept under nets at night and in the early evening, while we were
watching for peacocks, the mosquitoes were very troublesome.

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE GIBBONS OF HO-MU-SHU

It is a long hard climb out of the Salween valley. We left on March 24 and
all day crawled up the steep sides on a trail which doubled back and forth
upon itself like an endless letter S. From our camp at night the river was
just visible as a thin green line several thousand feet below, and for the
first time in days, we needed a charcoal fire in our tents.

We were _en route_ to Lung-ling, a town of considerable size, where there
was a possibility that mail might be awaiting us in care of the mandarin.
Although ordinarily a three days' journey, it was more than four days
before we arrived, because I had a sharp attack of malaria shortly after
leaving the Salween River and we had to travel half stages.

When we were well out of the valley and at an altitude of 5,000 feet, we
arrived at a Chinese town. Its dark evil-smelling houses, jammed together
in a crowded mass, and the filthy streets swarming with ragged children and
foot-bound women, were in unpleasant contrast to the charming little Shan
villages which we had seen in the low country. The inhabitants themselves
appeared to no better advantage when compared with their Shan neighbors,
for their stares and insolent curiosity were almost unbearable.

The region between the Salween River at Changlung and Lung-ling is as
uninteresting to the zooelogist as it could possibly be, for the hills are
dry and bare and devoid of animal life. Lung-ling is a typical Chinese town
except that the streets are wide and it is not as dirty as usual. The
mandarin was a jolly rotund little fellow who simulated great sympathy when
he informed me that he had received no mail for us. We had left directions
to have a runner follow us from Yung-chang and in the event that he did not
find our camp to proceed to Lung-