The next morning, September 21, both Harry and I slept late, for we had had an extremely heavy day. While we were still in bed we heard a shot from Gaberio, whom we welcomed back about eleven o’clock. He brought a really good collection, which included three blue birds of paradise and four longtails. Gaberio’s news, however, was not all good, for he had to report that one of his boys had been murdered. Whether the chief of Baw-boi had a hand in it, or whether there was a private reason for the crime, I cannot say. It was not on the Baw-boi side of the river, so perhaps if it was not fortune of war it may have been misfortune of love, for the eternal feminine is as potent in Papua for evil as she has been in other lands since Eden or Troy was lost. Be that as it may, the lad, a carrier from the village of Kowaka, about a day’s journey from Dinawa, went out from camp at Ta-poo-a one night into the forest, and there the adversary overtook him. It is probable that he was laid wait for, or he may merely have fallen to the spear of some wandering marauders. The natives in camp heard his cry and were speedily on the spot, but it was too late. He had been speared through the cheek, and his jugular vein had been severed. In a very few minutes he died. The victim’s own kindred came in to take charge of the body, arriving even before Gaberio’s messenger could reach their village, so swift and mysterious is the communication of news in New Guinea. Now that Gaberio was back we were more than ever anxious to leave, for our provisions were running very low, and we were living principally on cockatoo soup. To make matters worse we had almost run out of ammunition, and for some time not even a pigeon broke the monotony of our poor fare. Occasionally we procured one or two sweet potatoes, but the natives were naturally very unwilling to sell them. A further difficulty stared us in the face, for the exhaustion of the natives through famine was now so great that I did not know how we were to get our baggage down to the coast, but relief dropped, if not from the clouds, at least from the hills.