The little expedition, however, was rather uneventful, except at one point, where we discovered somewhat to our anxiety that we had lost the trail. The two natives we had brought with us went, one to the right and the other to the left, searching for it, and we kept shouting to each other all the time. At last, after a couple of hours’ search, we found the track, which would have been visible only to a Papuan, as there was no well-worn path. We required native guidance also to get us back to the creek where we had left our canoe. If there were no division between the piebald people and the ordinary inhabitants of Hula, at Kerapuna we noticed a curious class distinction, founded not on any physical peculiarity, but upon the mere question of occupation. One part of the village was occupied by the fisher tribe, the other part by a purely agricultural people. The latter were extremely lazy, and, as I have noted elsewhere, the lazier Papuan tribes are never fishermen, and always employ some more active people to do this work for them. The tillers of the soil and the spoilers of the sea hold rigidly aloof from one another at Kerapuna, and only meet on the common ground of an exchange of commodities—the fish being purchased for bananas and cocoanuts. Yet, strangely enough, the more active tribe was evidently there on sufferance, and was allowed to remain only because of the fish they supplied. Another remarkable point was, that the fishing populations dwelt on land and not on pile-built houses, as at Hula and Hanuabada. In this district we could get on without any other “trade” than tobacco. As there was nothing to tempt us to remain, and as Kerapuna, even at the best, was a dull place, we did not stay longer than four or five days. I was very anxious, too, to get back to Port Moresby to make my preparations for a second journey into the interior to resume my work. We determined to make the return journey by water, and accordingly hired a little canoe from a native, who, with a companion, came with us to act as our navigator. The little craft was hardly more than 18 inches wide, and just held the four of us in a rather cramped position. We set our course, which lay twenty miles across Hood’s Bay to Hula, and started about 10 A.M. in fine weather. When we had got about half-way, however, the wind rose, and a tremendous swell began to come in from the point where the reef opens seawards, and very soon the dug-out was dancing like a cork and was continually shipping seas, so that Harry and I had to bale constantly.