PLATEAU OF THE PAGANS 395 



Noticing that the bright light annoyed them, I con- 

 tinued to direct it into their big yellow eyes until, 

 becoming provoked at my attentions, they trotted 

 away. In the morning I learned from the local chief 

 that these three cats were professional man-eaters 

 who had been prowHng around the villages of the dis- 

 trict for many months. 



We had been advised to follow this side of the river, 

 but when three days of work in the deadly heat, with 

 insects almost driving us mad, only carried us forward 

 six miles, we decided to try the other side. After 

 digging out of one mudhole, only to fall into another, 

 the third night had found us nearly buried in a quag- 

 mire, with miles of swamp stretching ahead of us. 

 Our enforced camp was in a veritable pesthole where 

 clouds of bloodthirsty mosquitoes, assisted by armies 

 of ravenous gnats that flew rightjthrough the nets, 

 made the night miserable. In the morning we were 

 covered with white bhsters that burned and itched. 

 As we jumped about in a vain attempt to keep the 

 merciless insects away while we swallowed our break- 

 fast, it was unanimously agreed that here was the 

 very fringe of hell itself. 



Joe and I scouted ahead to see if the road was pass- 

 able, finding it was not. The swamp extended as far 

 as we could see from the highest eminence. During 

 our absence, Jones had managed to get the trucks on to 

 dry ground, only to discover that one of them had 

 developed a loss of power, due to a short circuit 

 which he could not locate. Leavmg him and Austin 

 behind, Pedley and I returned to the village, where 

 we left our truck, and, securing a canoe, crossed the 

 river to Bousso. 



