Inseparable again from the dug-out is the paddler. Who that travelled with him can forget him? Humorous as the London Jehu of the twentieth century, dexterous as his civilized confrères of the ocean, as adaptable to his surroundings as the clay to the potter’s art; at home everywhere and in all conditions in his native land, swimming or standing, sitting or lying, squatting or reclining, sleeping as soundly on the nose of the canoe or the river bank as we in our downiest of feather beds. He is ready and alert with the earliest peep of dawn, as the mists rise from the surface of the river, presenting the appearance of a huge boiling cauldron. Peeping from beneath your mosquito net you see his figure outlined against the dawning light as he keeps a sharp look-out for the hidden snag, and shivers with the clinging chilly mist. His powers of endurance are unequalled, as the rising sun dispels the mists and mounting higher in the heavens becomes increasingly fierce. He still swings his paddle with steady persistence till his body steams with the effort; then after a little halt and refreshment in the friendly shade of the riverside forest, he will go on until the sun is sinking, and if need be, still on in the moonlight, singing his monotonous boat song, occasionally varied by a running commentary from the leader on the incidents of the journey, the peculiarities of a certain paddler, or the ways of the white occupants of the canoe. During the whole day long the paddler will pursue his task, I see him now almost unconsciously bending his body with each dip of the paddle, till a sudden slowing down followed by a profound stillness arrests the attention. I can again hear those whispered voices as the gentle lapping of the water against the canoe side ceases, and the boat is still. A monkey has perhaps been seen overhead springing from bough to bough, or sitting nibbling the fruit of some forest tree, or it may be an edible bird with flesh as tough as its plumage is gorgeous, that watches us till the gun booms out and the creature is brought down. For a moment it struggles in the river, then with a sudden splash, a man is swimming with powerful strokes towards the prey which he a moment later lands in the canoe, while the rest look approvingly on at their prospective meal. With spirits heartened, on they go, singing of their capture and the feast which is to follow, till turning a bend in the river the destination is at last in sight. [Sidenote: A CANOE RACE]