March, after a very hard day's work, we arrived at Mona Tambui's village. It was situated on an island, surrounded and interspersed by rapids and streams, with the main river passing in front of the village — a most beautiful situation, and one which completely commanded the surrounding country.

Mohun and I sat by the front of the village and amused ourselves by shooting duck, which were constantly passing and repassing overhead, to and from their feeding grounds. The whole population turned out, manifesting intense surprise and delight to find that it was possible to kill birds on the wing, flocks of which they were in the habit of seeing pass before them every day of their lives. Whenever it was possible, instead of sleeping in the boats or putting up our tents, we slept in native villages. Most of these villages