He also told us that the people of a clan called Zànatsàra, who live in the neighbourhood, claim some special rights in the Trìtrìva lake; and when any one of their number is ill they send to see if the usually clear dark green of the water is becoming brown and turbid. If this is the case they believe it to be a presage of death to the sick person. Another legend makes the lake the former home of one of the mythical monsters of Malagasy folk-lore, the _Fanànim-pìto-lòha_ or “seven-headed serpent.” But for some reason or other he grew tired of his residence, and shifted his quarters to the more spacious and brighter lodgings for seven-headed creatures afforded by the other volcanic lake of Andraikìba. [Illustration: WATER-CARRIERS The woman with a baby on her back has a full pitcher simply balanced on her head] This same bearer assured us that in the rainy season—contrary to what one would have supposed—the water of the lake diminishes, but increases again in the dry season. He told us that there is an outlet to the water, which forms a spring to the north of the mountain. I noticed a white line a foot or two above the surface of the water all round the foot of the cliffs, showing a probably higher level than at the time of our visit. It was popularly supposed to be unfathomable, but some years after my visit the Rev. Johannes Johnson, of the Norwegian Mission, sounded the lake in three places. The deepest portion was found to be at the northern end, where it proved to be four hundred and seventy-four feet in depth. [Sidenote: A MAGNIFICENT VIEW]