116 JUNGLE PEACE 



ax, and it was presently brought to us by a 

 smiling, kindly old coolie inmate, who kept 

 murmuring Hindustani to himself. As we drove 

 on, a gigantic black man appeared on the ridge- 

 pole of the highest building and, stark naked, 

 rushed aimlessly back and forth, stamping glee- 

 fully on the corrugated iron, and chanting as 

 he stamped. We gazed on the axe and for once 

 did not chide the driver in his reckless prog- 

 ress. 



With relief we reached the bridge, where our 

 Scotch friend had kindly provided mule, rope, 

 boat, and coohes. We waited for a while, but 

 as the downpour showed no signs of abating, we 

 started on one of the wildest, weirdest journeys 

 I have ever taken. The trench was narrow and 

 deep, the boat was overladen, the banks were er- 

 ratic, the mule was fractious, and the coolies were 

 extremely unskilful. For the first half-mile the 

 trench was crowded with great dreadnaughts 

 of iron cane-boats, wholly irresponsible in posi- 

 tion and movements. In places our speed 

 caused a troubling of the water far ahead, and 

 this now and again swung a cane-barge directly 

 across our path. Again and again the stern of 

 our boat would develop a sentient mind of its 



