We were glad to continue the ascent to Madui, where once more we emerged into the welcome light of the sun. When we were two hours’ distance from Madui, one of our carriers struck work and refused to go any farther. There was only one way of persuasion, to which I was greatly averse, but his comrades considered it necessary, and their method, which was, after all, not very harsh, had the desired effect. The other carriers picked the leaves of a gigantic nettle, and with these they gently whipped the reluctant one until he was fain to “jog on the footpath way, and merrily hent the stile a’.” A little later, he tried to desert, but his comrades brought him back, and when we halted he was kept in the centre of the camp under strict surveillance. When he had had a good rest and a hearty meal, however, he went on as cheerfully as the others. We reached the foot of Madui Hill at 3.30 P.M., and a climb of half-an-hour brought us to the summit, which commands a fine view. On a clear day Hall Sound is visible on the coast side, and inland there is a grand prospect of mountain scenery. All the way up it had rained incessantly, and we were drenched to the skin. Our journey over rocks and precipices, watercourses and ravines, had completely tired us out, and, fortunately, the natives were too fatigued to sing. Accordingly, we contrived to get a good night’s rest, and did not leave Madui until 9.25 A.M. next day. [Illustration: THE RETURN OF MY COLLECTORS WITH BIRDS OF PARADISE AFTER A FEW HOURS’ SHOOTING AT EKEIKEI. ] Getting under weigh again, we descended from Madui into a ravine, where we passed a delightful waterfall, far away up on the precipices of the river Aculama, which we were to know better during our stay in New Guinea. The waterfall was on one of the tributaries of a little river, which we could see far below us rushing over its rocky bed in small cataracts that alternated with still blue pools. The trees in the ravine were loaded with lycopodiums and ferns, and, in their season, a few rhododendrons. The cluster of flowers was like a golden ball the size of a man’s head. On a later journey I secured the root, but it died before I could get it down to the coast for shipment. These rhododendrons did not grow alone, but attached themselves to tree trunks.