68 A Journey to the Salween = 
The river had risen considerably during the past three 
weeks and the water was no longer olive green but chocolate 
red. Still there was no hint of rain till we entered the 
rainy belt just above Tsu-kou. A ribbon of blue sky 
followed the windings of the river; the wind gradually rose 
each morning, raged with increasing violence throughout 
the middle of the day, and died quietly away towards 
evening ; the bare rocky slopes glared in the sunshine and 
danced in the quivering air. 
One morning I picked up one of the large, brilliantly 
coloured bugs (/Yemzptera) which swarmed on the flowering 
shrubs now in full bloom, but he emitted such a powerful 
odour that I quickly put him down again. At the same 
moment a fly got in my eye, and | thoughtlessly put up 
my finger and began to rub it. Great heavens! I began 
to think I would never see again. It was as though a drop 
of vitriol had been squirted into my eye, which for some 
minutes ran with water and gave me great pain, and though 
there could not have been more than the merest trace of 
this excreted liquid on my finger, it was evidently a most 
powerful acid, a drop of which would doubtless blind a 
man. After a time the pain passed off, but for the rest of 
the day my eye was puffy and bloodshot. 
Early on the morning of June 5th we reached the rope- 
bridge at Tsu-kou, and crossed to my old camping ground 
in the gulley ; and I lost no time in seeking Gan-ton and 
telling him that we must start without delay. He therefore 
promised to find porters and get off on the following day 
as quickly and quietly as possible. 
That night I saw fire-flies and listened to the bull-frogs 
groaning down by the torrent, but next morning it was 
raining again, and the limestone precipices which crowned 
the first range were buried in mist. I spent the morning 
climbing up the gulley to the foot of the gorge, finding 
several beautiful orchids in flower on the limestone rocks. 
I saw, too, several common pheasants, and heard snow- 
pheasants calling in the bushes. Fine butterflies, including 
the English swallow-tail, Papz/zo machaon, or a closely allied 
species, inhabit the valley, and they became quite a nuisance 
in my tent, settling on the milk and butter tins in clouds. 
On this excursion I also saw a small black snake with an 
