234 SPORT AND TRAVEL 



days. Occasionally I crossed the hills to the shore 

 and had a swim, or a sail in some fisherman's junk, 

 but most of my time was spent under a tree behind 

 the village, where with a pipe and a book I did my 

 best to make the days seem shorter. 



The village life was that of the peaceful peasants 

 of any country: at sunrise the men put on their 

 great pagoda-shaped hats and trudged off to the 

 rice-fields, where they worked, knee-deep in water, 

 till dark. The women remained in their huts, spin- 

 ning, or chatted on the paths, while their babies 

 made mud-pies and played with the somnolent hogs. 

 Then, at sunset, when the men returned from work, 

 my courtyard became the gathering-place for the 

 evening, for the novelty of watching a white man 

 eat, smoke, and read did not in any wise seem to 

 pall upon them. 



The hunter-men were next in importance, and 

 always held an admiring circle about them as they 

 squatted over their chow. This was a sort of soup, 

 brewed in a big black kettle, into which any number 

 of ingredients, from shellfish to sweet potatoes, had 

 been thrown, and it was eaten with some kind of herb 

 on the side as a relish. Tiger-hunting is nothing new 

 to them, as they make it their business, the profession 

 being handed down in the same family from father 

 to son. They attack the tiger in his cave, killing 



