n6 BLOOMFIELD RIVER chap. 
seize upon and carry off their wives, if from another 
tribe, and the young “ Lochinvar ” generally commences 
operations by stunning her on the head to prevent her 
from screaming : this generally is an excuse for declar- 
ing war, which is a sort of pastime to them. 
The belief of this particular tribe is that death is 
caused by a small round smooth pebble, the size of a 
pigeon’s egg, being placed in the affected spot by some 
hostile black. The patient sometimes recovers, or 
thinks he does, by a similar stone, which is called 
“ Mudlo,” being rubbed over the affected part. 
This evening we watched the “ gins ” preparing 
their food of zamia nuts, which they pound into a soft, 
pulpy-looking stuff. This is put into bits of bark and 
water run through it to extract some kind of poison. 
It was like thick pea-soup when strained afterwards 
through their dilly bags. I ate some of the nasty, 
unwholesome-looking stuff, and found it utterly taste- 
less. I also took some pounded root, which I might 
have chewed for hours without producing any impres- 
sion on it: it was like india-rubber. They were 
cooking yams in the ashes, and long, thin roots too, 
which were not so bad. 
We crossed the river after leaving the camp, and 
made our way along the bank under the shade of the 
beautiful jungle all hung and matted together with 
ferns and creeping vines. The curiously-shaped and 
coloured fungi here would have delighted the hearts 
of enthusiasts who collect these unwholesome-looking 
delicacies. The natives, I believe, cook several of the 
edible ones, but I should be sorry for the experimenting 
white individual who attempted to eat them, after my 
own painful experiences. Some, of a most delicately- 
coloured pink variety, are found under logs and over- 
hanging, rocky ledges, where not a gleam of sunshine 
