A TRIP " ABACK " 37 



a barricade of leaves ; but a second after landing, we 

 are again busy tunnelling with hands and shoulders, 

 the while our feet plod wearily through a thick bed of 

 mud. At intervals we come across an old coolie 

 woman, a pretty coolie lass, or a group of bewitching 

 little coolie children. All the workers in this field are 

 weeding. In the course of traversing this section we 

 chance upon the black " driver," who is in charge of 

 the gang. 



The next field is an open expanse of stubble ; here 

 the canes have all been reaped, but the ground is in 

 the clutches of their massed roots, or " stools." 

 Labourers have begun to clear this space ready for 

 planting, and you see many hands busy ploughing with 

 shovel and fork. And in a near neighbouring field a 

 mighty fire is at work, devouring the trash, thus making 

 ready for the reapers. 



Heading for the main navigation trench, we pick up 

 our little houseboat some distance ahead of where we left 

 her, and proceed to travel on among the cane-lands to 

 our journey's end. Sun-lovers though we be, we are 

 now grateful for the shelter and shadow of the hut 

 amidships, and we are so tired that its sugar-bag 

 carpeted floor and sugar-bag cushioned seats seem to 

 be the height of luxury. We close our eyes and in- 

 dulge in day-dreaming. We are wandering through 

 a picture-gallery of life, in which every scene that is 

 presented to us has a double power of appeal. Each 

 memory-painted canvas shows us fascinating Orientals, 

 draped in picturesque native costume, apparently 

 playing at work on an arena which is luxuriantly 

 bedecked with stately and graceful sugar-canes ; and, 

 at the same time, these pictures make us feel the 



