After crossing the Meh Chai, in the centre of the village, we skirted the fields for another mile, and crossed the Nong Hang near the site of a witch’s house, which had lately been pulled down, after the occupants had been driven from the village. Two miles farther, we came to and crossed the Meh Ing flowing to the right, close to the village of Ban Mai. This river was here 25 feet wide and 9 feet deep, and had only 1½ foot of water in its bed. It had a barely perceptible current, and flows south as far as Penyow, then doubles round Loi Loo-en and turns north-east on its way to join the Meh Kong. Turning to the east, we followed the plain for two miles to the foot of Loi Loo-en, along which the track continues to Penyow. Loi Loo-en is a pleasantly wooded hill about nine miles long, running nearly north and south, and has formed the site of several cities, some of which I subsequently visited during my stay at Penyow. A fire was raging in the plain, and a terrified hare, the first I had seen during the journey, raced across the path in front of my elephant. The atmosphere had grown oppressive, and although scarcely eleven o’clock, the thermometer marked 91° in the shade. All were parched with thirst; the boys lagged one foot behind the other, and the men scratched holes in the dry stream-beds, seeking in vain for water. About one o’clock we reached a dry brook having a few muddy puddles in the bed, and determined to halt for breakfast. Half a mile farther would have taken us to the village of Pang Ngao, where we might have got better water, but we were all-unconscious of its existence. Getting off our elephants, we flung ourselves down under the shade of a great tree, where the temperature was 96°, and waited whilst the men dug holes in the ground in search of pure water. None was to be found, so at length the boys set to work to boil some liquid mud to make our tea. Such tea, when made, we had not the stomach to drink, and could therefore only rinse our mouths. The march had been very distressing both to the elephants and men, and it was well that Penyow, where we were to rest, was only three miles distant. We started again, continuing to skirt the hill, and about three-quarters of a mile from Penyow passed the site of the ancient city of Chaum Taung, which is divided into three compartments by the usual ramparts and ditches. A little farther we came to one of the most sacred places of pilgrimage in the Shan States, Wat Phra Chow Toon Hluang (the temple of the great sitting Buddha), and scrambled down from our elephants to inspect it.