IV 



My Log Z77 



a little bridge crossing a stream which ran through 

 the centre of the rice grounds. 



The floor of the valley (about a quarter of a mile 

 broad) was divided into small squares, with cause- 

 ways of hard dried clay about a foot high around 

 them. The crops had been gathered and nothing 

 left but the long stubble, here and there covered 

 with plashes of water. The soil of the sides of the 

 valley was of bright light -coloured sand, covered 

 with pretty heaths and shrubby plants and well- 

 grown timber ; pines of the most beautiful green, 

 with bright brownish red stems, the foliage in a 

 large clump at the summit ; dry-looking black olives, 

 and numerous cork-trees stripped of their cork for 

 five or six feet up, exposing the dark red under-bark. 

 The stems of these cork-trees and of the pines came 

 out warm and rich among the dark wood when the 

 sunlight fell upon them. The upper end of the 

 valley was closed by a wild rugged range of moun- 

 tains perfectly bare and barren, a real sierra. We 

 plunged valiantly into the stubble, but found after 

 two or three steps that further progress was utterly 

 impossible. We sank above the knee in the 

 toughest and most tenacious clay I ever put my foot 

 into, and we were obliged to turn our faces landward 

 and struggle back to the causeways along which we 

 walked for the future. The squares were for the 

 most part so small that we could command them 

 with the gun, and the snipes so wild that they 

 flushed easily. We were, however, obliged to wade 



