whereupon the beast rose in a mighty cataract of water and flopped down again into the stream. This feat of mine was much approved by the crew, who with grunts and ejaculations congratulated me on my exploit! I do not know whether I killed the beast. I do not think a bullet from my rifle could really have ended its life, for crocodiles are difficult to destroy; yet natives say that if a bullet penetrates their thick hide, it leads to their death, on account of the open wound becoming filled with maggots from the rivers, that kill them in time. Being a lover of all animals, I must explain that I have never, before or since, willingly killed any living creature, but a crocodile, with its hideous habits of killing, wounding, and maiming people--many of whom being people I have known--made me anxious to try and send one of these monsters to another world. I am not sure I was right in doing so, although I may have been the means of ridding the rivers of Sarawak from a dangerous pest. At mid-day we stopped on a sandbank to lunch, and to give our crew an hour or two’s rest. The Dyaks had erected a little palm-leaf house to shelter us during the halt, whilst they themselves, under the shade of scattered rocks, set their rice boiling in pots hanging from tripods made from branches of trees cut down in neighbouring forests. Very soon little fires began to spring up all over the sandy expanse. As usual the noonday silence of the tropics reigned, broken only by that bird whose sweet song rivals our nightingale. I think this bird’s song most ravishing; its trills are velvety, soft, and yet so loud that they can be heard for some reaches down the river. Our famous Sarawak naturalist, Dr. Hose, who is an expert in the sounds of birds, disagrees with me; he thinks its note shrill and sometimes disagreeable. I beg respectfully to differ from such an authority, and still maintain that the alligator bird (the name given to the bul-bul by the natives of the country) is among the sweetest songsters of the world. By three o’clock in the afternoon the crew were ready to proceed. Presently the river became so shallow that poles had to be used instead of paddles. Great trees, growing on rocks, overshadowed the water, where it was difficult to understand how they could live. The river became quite clear, rippling over a pebbly bed. I wish I knew what those pebbles were, for I believe in these river-beds are to be found amethysts, tourmalines, and even sapphires. Dr. Hose told me that on one of his travels up these inland streams, his war-boats floated over the dust of sapphires. An orchid branch drifted towards us, rosy, white, and waxy, looking like a smile upon the water. One of our Dyaks tried to get hold of it for me, but I prevented him. I preferred to think of the flower dying in the fresh cool stream, rather than see it fading in my hot hand.