IN THE CHITTAGONG HILL TRACTS 113 



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for I was parched with thirst, that the Commissioner had 

 landed on the right bank in a bit of open cultivated land 

 near one of the curious Mug villages and was evidently 

 going to have tiffin. I joined him there and found him in a 

 very bad humour. I came in for some of it. It was the 

 fires he was so mad about. Did not think they had been 

 sufficiently reported, etc. I had covered reams of paper 

 with reports, and as he unguardedly said he would read 

 every line I had written on the subject I felt I could put up 

 with the present dressing-down as I should get my own 

 back if he held to his promise. At last the tiffin-boat hove 

 in sight and having washed out the smoke we recovered our 

 serenity somewhat and, as it subsequently turned out, 

 unduly prolonged the welcome rest. 



The afternoon passed very much as the morning. The 

 fires were not so near the river-edge, and so the heat and 

 smoke were not so aggressive. We did not halt for tea ; the 

 three dug-outs were lashed together, several men towing 

 them from the bank, as it had dawned on us that we should 

 be late in getting to the tiny bungalow we were to spend the 

 night in. Tea over, the Commissioner decided to leave the 

 servants' boat behind with orders to hurry on the rest of 

 the fleet, which was nowhere in sight. Darkness fell and 

 the proceedings became wearisome. I was not sufficiently 

 acquainted with this part of the river to remember how far 

 the bungalow was. It was useless enquiring of the boatmen, 

 as their invariable answer was " Round the next bend, 

 sahib." I had no light so could not read, and finally I lay 

 down in the bottom of the dug-out and dozed fitfully. 

 I was roused at length by voices and the gleam of a 

 light. We were approaching a tiny landing-stage. I 

 crawled from under my cover and looked out. The 

 Commissioner was standing in the verandah of the 

 bungalow near a lantern placed on the floor. A second 

 lantern was on the landing-stage, which was a frail bamboo 

 lattice- work arrangement supported on bamboo piles. I 

 hopped out of the boat, glad to stretch my legs, and joined 

 him. It was a pitch-dark night and nothing could be seen 

 of our surroundings. The night air on the river was quite 

 sharp or we felt it so in our thin shikar suits after the heat 

 of the day. 



We adjourned to the bungalow, a lantern was placed on 

 the table and whiskies and sodas ordered and produced with 



