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THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



SO-*-* 





TWO LITTLE PIGS WENT TO MARKET 



The live-stock market of a Sumatran village is a lively scene, 

 with its excellent cattle, closely resembling" the Alderney type, its 

 porkers, wiry little ponies, goats, and Indian buffalo. 



woven baskets on their heads, moved 

 about the inclosure at their various occu- 

 pations. A few men idled around, but 

 showed little interest in any work more 

 strenuous than chewing sirih or follow- 

 ing the various strategies I had to employ 

 to obtain the photographs I wanted. 



STRENUOUS OBJECTION RAISED TO THE 

 CAMERA 



As was often the case in the highlands, 

 the natives, especially the women, were 

 averse to having a one-eyed devil-box 

 aimed at them, and even my disguised 

 efforts in this direction were regarded 



with deepest suspicion 

 and not infrequently 

 thwarted. With the ad- 

 ditional limitations of 

 low-hanging clouds and 

 lack of direct sunlight, 

 and the penetrating 

 moisture so disastrous to 

 films, photographic re- 

 sults in the Batak coun- 

 try were never wholly 

 dependable. 



Kebon Djahe was un- 

 like any other village I 

 have ever seen. For sev- 

 eral hours we roamed 

 around, exploring the 

 compound, fascinated by 

 all its singular pictur- 

 esqueness — the remark- 

 able sky-line of the roofs 

 and their fantastic dec- 

 orations, the blue - clad 

 figures grouped at their 

 divers tasks below, and 

 the effective blending of 

 brilliant colors with the 

 green of bamboo leaves 

 and grayish brown of 

 the moss-covered thatch. 



THE AUTOMOBILE DROWNS 

 IN MUD 



The sun had gone 

 down unobserved in the 

 clouds and the early twi- 

 light had fallen before 

 we left Kebon Djahe. 

 Vague misgivings of the 

 road from there to Sari- 

 boe Dolok in the dark 

 had begun to assail my mind, when the 

 car, which had been rocking and skid- 

 ding over the rain-soaked trail, suddenly 

 plunged deeper into the mud, stopped 

 short, and began to sink. 



There was a little hole in the center of 

 the track, no bigger than a man's hand, 

 which on the way up had scarcely been 

 noticeable, but in passing over it in re- 

 turning, the whole road seemed to open 

 up and engulf us. A furious effort to 

 clear the chasm, whatever it might be, 

 only succeeded in hastening our doom. 

 When we stopped settling the car was so 

 deep that a list to the right brought the 



