As soon as the camp was finished we settled down to our old routine of work, very similar to that observed during our stay at Dinawa, and for a time all went smoothly. But suddenly a cloud loomed upon our horizon in the shape of our neighbour Kafulu. This worthy, whose village was an hour’s journey off, had often visited the camp while the building was in progress. He was a very low type of Papuan, with a receding forehead and a face altogether ape-like. After his people, who helped me in my building operations, had been paid off, I did a little business with the chief himself, and ordered sago stalks for wattling the sides of the house. For these I paid in advance, but the sago was not forthcoming. I made no complaint at first, and this probably deceived him into thinking I might be treated with further contumely, for he suddenly began to threaten my boys, until at last they would no longer venture out into the forest to collect. Accordingly, I sent my trusty advocate Ow-bow and his wife down to Kafulu’s village to know the reason why he did not deliver the sago, which was several weeks overdue. Ow-bow was allowed to take a gun with him, but no cartridges, and his empty weapon evidently was not impressive. My emissary’s experience was painful; Kafulu did not take his life, but he took his effects. Now, every Papuan carries with him as his most cherished possession a little net-bag, containing a charming collection of oddments dear to the savage mind—his knife, tobacco, bamboo pipe, matches, which he had earned, betel-nut and gourd, and little trophies of the chase. All these Kafulu took from the unfortunate Ow-bow, as well as his blanket, his dogs’ teeth necklace, and other adornments. Thus bereft, Ow-bow executed a strategic movement to the rear, and returned to camp with his tale of wrong. Kafulu then sent in a polite message informing me that he had no intention of sending the sago, and further, that I was not to shoot bird, kangaroo, wallaby, or any game around my camp, for they were his animals; otherwise he would burn the camp and kill us all. [Illustration: NEW GUINEA HOUSE-BUILDING. Our house at Ekeikei under construction. ] As matters stood thus, I considered that greater precautions were necessary, especially as I knew that Kafulu had recently broken into and robbed the mission-house at Ekeikei, for it was more than likely that a treacherous spear might, in the darkness, penetrate the thin sago walls of our house, and perhaps find its billet. We accordingly built around our beds an inner screen of 1½–inch bamboo poles, and even though a missile had penetrated the thin sago walls, it would have been stopped by this barricade.