The next day we waited in vain for the Chows, and for another elephant with the things that we had left behind. I whiled away the time by sketching one of the houses and the hills to the east of the plain, and in taking observations for the daily curve of the aneroid readings, and for temperature. The house was thatched with leaves of the eng tree, and the thatching was continued under the south gable-end and over part of the verandah platform. In the garden was a pond with a good many ducks on it, and one of the usual granaries, which are roofed, and formed of large barrel-shaped bamboo baskets, well raised from the ground, and plastered over to keep out rats, mice, and insects. During the afternoon I was much amused by watching Dr Cushing, who appeared to be both puzzled and annoyed. We had made it a rule to pay for everything that we received from the people, and the Chow Phya, or judge, who accompanied us, had ordered the head-man of the village to bring in the usual provisions of rice, chickens, and ducks that are presented to officers when travelling through a district. There they were all at the Doctor’s feet; but how could he pay for them? The rice had been collected in cupfuls, a cup from each house. No coin was small enough to pay for a cupful, and it would be absurd, if not impossible, to attempt to pay for it. Then the fowls and ducks were unaccompanied by their owners, and if he gave the money to the head-man, that functionary would have simply pocketed it, and the villagers would have been still unpaid. Here was a fix. We required the poultry, and must have the rice. At last he settled it with his conscience by accepting the rice as a present, and sending the head-man back to fetch the owners of the birds. Whether the right men were paid or not, even then, was a source of perplexity to him. This little scene was reacted at nearly every village we halted at throughout the journey, and the qualms of our consciences were eased at the cost of much worry, and at the expense of our being considered fools by the Shan officials, who could not understand our objection to preying on the people, and our departing from the customs of the land. [Illustration: _A Shan house._ ] The whole country belongs nominally to the five supreme chiefs, who form the Government. These grant certain districts to other princes and nobles, who receive a bucket of rice for every bucket that is planted by the people, as land-tax or rent for the land occupied by them. The teak-forests give a large revenue to the chiefs. Taxation is light, and, outside the monopolies on pigs, spirits, and opium, is made up chiefly of not very burdensome import and export duties. From all I could learn, the people were much better off and infinitely better treated than the people in Siam.