WE STRIKE INLAND 
Pigeon Island. In the morning they return. This 
migration is to secure safety, as Pigeon Island is 
uninhabited, and in its mangrove swamps the birds 
know that they can sleep unmolested. After a night’s 
rest, such as it was, we prepared to start again, but 
found the natives somewhat unwilling to go on. At 
length they agreed to take us by canoe as far as 
the path to Epa, about ten miles from the Bioto 
Creek, and from that place they would take us five 
miles by road to Jack’s camp, which was six miles 
distant from Epa. For this journey they demanded 
an absurd price—each carrier wanted a 16-inch knife, 
a tomahawk, or a pearl-shell—and in this extra- 
vagant rating of their services they showed them- 
selves typical coast natives. The mountain people 
would have done the same work for one stick of 
tobacco. Before we had come to terms the day had 
worn away, and it was necessary to remain another 
night at Bioto. Next morning we were up early, 
and by the time we had breakfasted, the carriers, 
fifteen in all, who had come from their gardens the 
night before, were ready to take up their burdens. 
The number available was still inadequate, but as 
no more were to be had we had to make up our minds 
to a double journey. We stayed the night at Jack's 
camp, sending on a messenger to Epa to ask the chief 
Mavai to bring his people down the next day. By 
ten o'clock the next morning Mavai had not arrived, 
so we decided to walk to Epa and see him, at the 
same time hoping that we might meet him by the 
way. We took Sam (my Cingalese servant) with us, - 
and as there were two tracks, he took one and I the 
34 
