A Thousand Miles in a Machilla 



surprise found that it was about fifty yards broad, 

 quite full of water, and unfordable. We had not 

 seen a single head of game on the road, but by the 

 river there were plenty of puku, as was almost 

 invariably the case in the neighbourhood of water. 

 After following the river bank for another hour or 

 so, wondering how we were to cross, the track led 

 us suddenly into a marsh, where the reeds were 

 above our heads and the going extremely bad. 

 Every now and then a man would sink in over his 

 knees, and even with eight men to the team the 

 machilla boys had the greatest difficulty in keeping 

 their feet. After travelling in this fashion for some 

 little distance, not knowing the least what to expect, 

 we suddenly emerged and found ourselves standing 

 on the river bank on firm ground, with a hundred 

 yards of deep water in front of us and no apparent 

 means of crossing. 



Someone shouted, and first one, and then quite 

 a number of dug-out canoes appeared from amongst 

 the reeds on the opposite bank to ferry us over. 

 These dug-outs are merely as their name implies — 

 the trunks of large trees hollowed out. They have 

 no seats, leak horribly, and are by no means the 

 safest form of transport, for the least motion will 

 upset them; the natives are, however, very expert 

 in their management. I was taken over among the 

 first, and, seated on a small stool in the middle of 

 the dug-out, felt comparatively safe; in fact, as the 

 air on the water was beautifully cool, I rather 

 enjoyed the trip. The old boatman landed me 

 carefully at an easy place, and I w^s glad to find 



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