We Again Rode Up The River In That Slow And Solemn Fashion In Which Horses Walk In Water, Galloped Over A Stretch Of Grass, Crossed A Bright Stream Several Times, And Then Entered A Dense Jungle Of Indian Shot, Plantains, And Sadlerias, With Breadfruit, Kukui, And Ohia Rising Out Of It.

There were thousands of plantains, a fruit resembling the banana, but that it requires cooking.

The Indian shot, the yellow-blossomed variety, was of a gigantic size. Its hard, black seeds put into a bladder furnish the chic-chac, which in many places is used as an accompaniment to the utterly abominable and heathenish tom-tom. Here guavas as large as oranges and as yellow as lemons ripened and fell unheeded. Sometimes deep down we heard the rush of water, and Paalau got down and groped for it on his hands and knees; sometimes we heard a noise as of hippopotami, but nothing could be seen but the tips of ears, as a herd of happy, unbroken horses, scared by our approach, crashed away through the jungle. Clear rapid streams, fern-fringed, sometimes offered us a few yards of highway, but the jungle ever grew more dense, the forest trees larger, the lianas more tangled, the streams more sunk and rocky, and though the horses shut their eyes and boldly pushed through the tangle, we were fairly foiled when within half a mile from the head of the valley. I thoroughly appreciated the unsightly leather guards which are here used to cover the stirrups and feet, as without them I could not have ridden ten yards.

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