212 SAFARI 



the very word "cannibal" made her shudder. But 

 she never winced at the time. 



Nor did she wince when, a Httle later, she v/as 

 captured by the savage man-eaters we were out to 

 film. 



We sailed west in a small ship. I knew Osa was 

 brave. But it took more than bravery to combat 

 seasickness. To my joy she didn't have a single hour 

 of illness. To this day she has never known what 

 that scourge of the sea-traveller is like, despite the 

 tiny craft and terrible storms we have gone through 

 in our wanderings. 



"Oh, yes, she's got a strong stomach," said an 

 older woman scornfully once when I mentioned it. 



But I don't believe this is the whole truth. I 

 think Osa's profound delight in otir work and the 

 thrill with which she looks forward to our next 

 adventure adds enormously to her bodily resistance 

 to ills that overwhelm the diffident tourist. To my 

 mind she is an excellent sample of mental state 

 governing health. 



We got into trouble with the cannibals through 

 my own rashness. Our destination at the time was 

 the island of Malekula in the New Hebrides. 

 Government officials warned me against the natives. 

 "They are our subjects on the map," explained one 

 officer. " But a cannibal doesn't know a map from 

 a kangaroo." 



