We left Yule Island at 10 A.M. in a small boat, accompanied by two Mission Fathers. Our baggage came on with us at the same time in a rough boat. We reached the mouth of the river at noon, and found some natives there fishing. They were very friendly and gave us some fish. At that point the entrance to the river was about half a mile broad, but across it there was a big bar. At 2 P.M. we had entered the Bioto Creek, where we suffered tremendously from mosquitoes. Here, in fact, they are quite a terror, and this is believed to be the very worst place for mosquitoes in all New Guinea. During the first night that we halted there I had not fixed my net properly, so I slept very little owing to the annoyance of these insects. It is an unhealthy spot, and fever rages. The village is very small, containing only nineteen houses for the regular inhabitants, and two houses, one at each end, for visitors. This provision for the stranger within their gates is a general custom in every Papuan village. Despite this form of hospitality, however, the Bioto people are not very amiable, and I found them extremely greedy. The region is a perfect one for game, especially for duck and pigeon. Every evening one sees clouds of pigeons flying over the sea from the mainland to Pigeon Island. In the morning they return. This migration is to secure safety, as Pigeon Island is uninhabited, and in its mangrove swamps the birds know that they can sleep unmolested. After a night’s rest, such as it was, we prepared to start again, but found the natives somewhat unwilling to go on. At length they agreed to take us by canoe as far as the path to Epa, about ten miles from the Bioto Creek, and from that place they would take us five miles by road to Jack’s camp, which was six miles distant from Epa. For this journey they demanded an absurd price—each carrier wanted a 16–inch knife, a tomahawk, or a pearl-shell—and in this extravagant rating of their services they showed themselves typical coast natives. The mountain people would have done the same work for one stick of tobacco. Before we had come to terms the day had worn away, and it was necessary to remain another night at Bioto. Next morning we were up early, and by the time we had breakfasted, the carriers, fifteen in all, who had come from their gardens the night before, were ready to take up their burdens. The number available was still inadequate, but as no more were to be had we had to make up our minds to a double journey. We stayed the night at Jack’s camp, sending on a messenger to Epa to ask the chief Mavai to bring his people down the next day. By ten o’clock the next morning Mavai had not arrived, so we decided to walk to Epa and see him, at the same time hoping that we might meet him by the way. We took Sam (my Cingalese servant) with us, and as there were two tracks, he took one and I the other, each arranging to fire a gun if either should meet Mavai. As it happened we met Mavai most opportunely just