welcomes
the new day. Half asleep, I watch the light creep across the sky,
while the bush is still in utter darkness; suddenly, like a bugle-call,
the first sunbeams strike the trees and it is broad day.

Chilly and stiff, the boys get up and crowd round the fires. As
we have no more water there is no tea, and breakfast is reduced to
dry biscuits. The moli has found the lost trail by this time, and we
continue the ascent. On the plateau we again strike nearly impenetrable
bush, and lose the trail again, so that after a few hours' hard work
with the knives we have to retrace our steps for quite a distance. It
is a monotonous climb, varied only by an occasional shot at a wild
pig and fair sport with pigeons. Happily for the thirsty boys, we
strike a group of bamboos, which yield plenty of water. All that
is needed is to cut the joint of the stems, and out of each section
flows a pint of clear water, which the boys collect by holding their
huge mouths under the opening. Their clothes are soaked, but their
thirst is satisfied and our kettles filled for the midday meal.

Presently we pass a native "camp" under an overhanging rock: it
consists of a few parallel sticks, on which the native sleeps as well
as any European on a spring-mattress, and a hollow in the ground,
with a number of cooking-stones.

After a stiff climb we stop for our meal, then follow a path
which gradually widens and improves, a sign that we are nearing a
village. Towards evening we come to some gardens, where the natives
plant their yam and taro. At the entrance of the village I make my
boys close up ranks; although the natives are not supposed to be
hostile, my people show signs of uneasiness, keeping close together
and carrying the few weapons we have very conspicuously.

We cross the village square to the gamal, a simple place, as they
all are, with a door about a yard from the ground, in order to keep
out the pigs which roam all over the village. In line with the front
of the house is a row of tall bamboo posts, wound with vines; their
hollow interior is filled with yam and taro, the remains of a great
feast. The village seems quite deserted, and we peep cautiously
into the interior of the gamal, where, after a while, we discern a
man, lying on the damp and dirty ground, who stares at us in silent
fright. He gets up and comes slowly out, and we can see that he has
lost half of one foot from leprosy. From him the moli learns that
the two chiefs a