A Thousand Miles in a Machilla 



wooded hills, along the foot of which the river 

 wound, bending hither and thither. 



That afternoon we reached Villa Bocage and 

 landed our Portuguese fellow-traveller, with whom 

 we had been unable to converse, as he could speak 

 neither English nor French, and we could not 

 speak Portuguese ; he was very young and had 

 courteous manners. One felt sorry for him, as Villa 

 Bocage, in addition to being a lonely place, is from 

 all accounts one of the hottest spots on this earth. 

 We remained here an hour while the mail-bags 

 were transferred to a large dug-out with sixteen 

 native rowers, which started off at once for Port 

 Herald. When we got under way, in swinging 

 round a sharp bend the current in this place being 

 strong the sternwheeler ran into the mail-boat and 

 cut a hole in her prow, much to the concern and 

 indignation of the crew. The damage, however, 

 was only slight, and presently, when we were hung 

 up on a sandbank, the dug-out passed us going at a 

 rapid rate. 



Beyond the station the river narrowed, the 

 water became very low and the country uninterest- 

 ing: we made little progress, and finally tied up to 

 the bank at sunset, where we heard the mosquitoes 

 sing merrily the whole night through. Friday 

 morning we continued steaming up the river until 

 8.30 A.M., when the captain informed us he could 

 go no further. We were now afraid of being kept 

 waiting, but within a few minutes of stopping we 

 saw the houseboats that had been ordered paddling 



down to meet us, and into one of these A and I 



10 



