184 IN THE SWAMPS 



roundings of the swamp land were different from 

 any I had seen elsewhere on the Peninsula, and 

 therefore extremely interesting. We were wring- 

 ing wet most of the time, for nearly always, as we 

 made way through the swamp to reach higher 

 ground beyond, we walked through the densest of 

 dripping jungle. Once and again we passed a de- 

 serted plantation, the last signs of agricultural ac- 

 tivity fast disappearing under the engulfing jungle 

 growth ; and on the sixth day, at noon, we came to 

 a large tapioca farm, where I lunched deliciously 

 on the refreshing milk of a freshly gathered cocoa- 

 nut and the roasted sweet-potato-like roots of the 

 tapioca, with bananas and papayas plucked near 

 by. Here was our pig-hunting ground and here 

 we remained a week, averaging about two drives 

 a day. 



Although it was bunglingly done, I enjoyed no 

 hunting experience in Malay more than this. We 

 were always ready for our first drive about six 

 O'clock in the morning. The beaters and the dogs, 

 making a wide detour around a patch of jungle pre- 

 viously agreed upon, would enter it from the far 

 side, while I took position on the opposite side in the 

 open places where the pigs were likely to come out 

 —though they did not always perform as expected, 

 sometimes running around and around within the 

 jungle patch, in defiance of both dogs and men. 



