A Thousand Miles in a Machilla 



the channel, which was about fifty yards broad, deep, 

 and with a fairly strong current. So soon as the 

 water was negotiated in safety, we had to climb up 

 on to another bridge and walk along it to dry land. 



There was a dug-out in addition to the raft, and 

 "Cooky," who apparently added the waterman's 

 craft to his other accomplishments, paddled many of 

 our loads over in it. Crossing the baggage took 

 some time, so that while it was in progress we sat 

 down by the roadside and had breakfast, the thunder 

 rumbling round us all the time. Fortunately, how- 

 ever, the storm did not break; for had it done so, 

 it would have been difficult to have found shelter. 

 In the end everything was got over in safety. The 

 machillas gave some trouble, as there was only just 

 room for them on the raft, and we were afraid that 

 they would get wet. 



Locusts abounded by the riverside, with fat pink 

 bodies and a double pair of gauzy wings. When 

 cooked they taste very like prawns. 



After the crossing, we turned northwards and 

 followed the course of the Bua river, intending, if 

 possible, to reach its junction with the Karusi. We 

 had lost so much time, however, that when noon 

 arrived we had only completed some three-quarters 

 of the distance. We stopped soon afterwards 

 and pitched camp on rising ground overlooking 

 the river valley. On the way we had had to cross 

 a very nasty swamp, in which the papyrus reeds 

 were well over our heads, and the bottom so 

 soft that several of the men sank down almost to 

 their waists. The whole of the machilla teams, as 



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