We found here some indication of rudimentary game laws existing among the Papuans. Round this region dwelt certain chiefs, in whose territory grew the play-trees of the raggiana or red bird of paradise. These gentlemen intimated to us that any one who came to shoot the raggiana must pay them a fee, as the birds, by virtue of their coming to play in their trees, were their property.

As the natives had little to do in camp, they used to sit round Harry, watching him with the greatest interest while he posted his diary, and exclaiming at intervals, “mallelee lo-pi-ang” (good writing). It is most singular that they should have had a word for writing, for I found no trace among them even of picture writing, if we except the markings on the “bau-bau” or pipe; but it is probable that they had some means of communication by scratching on bark, otherwise the existence of the term seems to be inexplicable.

At length I saw that a further stay at the St. Joseph was impracticable. A flood came down and washed away our bridge, and it was with no great reluctance that we struck our camp and returned to Dinawa. On the way we repassed the village of Fa-lo-foida, which stands on the top of a conical hill surrounded by precipices. It was strongly stockaded, and we had a stiff clamber to get to the top. To enter the stockade we had to pass through the outer native house before gaining access to the centre of the village, a sort of compound. The stockade was closely built, only a few bars being left loose for ingress and egress, and the entrance could easily be shut in case of attack.

A march lasting from 6 A.M. till 12.30 P.M. brought us back to Dinawa, where we found all well and in good order, except our plants and one of the birds. A “magnificent,” a really beautiful specimen of that species of paradise bird, which one of my boys had brought in, and which we had hoped to keep in a cage, had died, probably because when its captor brought it into camp he slung it head downwards from a pole, and kept it in that position several hours. We were heartily sorry to lose so fine an example of the kellelo, as the Papuans call that variety.

Two days after our return to Dinawa camp, Sam rejoined us. He had much to tell, for the times had been rather stirring with him. My head-man as well as I had received the polite attentions of the Baw-boi chieftain, who had sent in to say that he was not afraid of Sam and his gun, and that he would cut off his head and eat him. After this overture Sam was careful to camp at the bottom of the hill, but our adversary did not give up hopes of a Cingalese dinner. A message came from another village that if Sam would go there he would be presented with a pig; but he knew the Papuan too well. He replied to the messengers that if they had a pig they should bring it into camp. Of course no pig came.

A ROUGH BRIDGE WE MADE AT THE ST. JOSEPH RIVER.

From Sam we learned further that the Fa-lo-foida people, through fear of the Baw-boi people, had cut the suspension bridge, and that the natives farther up the St. Joseph River, on hearing of the tyrant’s warlike preparations, had left their villages and had settled on the site of the camp I had just quitted. Their object was, of course, to be near friendly Fa-lo-foida, which would in time of stress be to them as a fenced city. This incident led to the formation of quite a new township, and before I left Dinawa for good my old camp on the St. Joseph had become a considerable village. It was a curious example of the way in which political necessity affected the locale of village communities.

CHAPTER VII
GOOD-BYE TO DINAWA

A Beautiful New Orchid discovered and described—Drought continues—Sufferings of the Natives—I practise as a Physician—Queer Native Diagnosis—Gaberio, an Intelligent Native, goes collecting on his own Account—How we kept touch—The Wireless Telegraph of the Wilds—We determine to take our Specimens to the Coast—Methods of Preservation and Packing—Gaberio returns—He tells of the Murder of one of his Boys—Hardships of Camp Life—Food and Ammunition fail—We try Cockatoo Soup—A Visit from a Fine Hill Tribe, the Ibala—They brighten the Last Days of our Stay—Gorgeous Sunsets at Dinawa—The Ibala People return according to Contract to act as Carriers—We depart—Trials of the March to the Coast—A Mishap at Sea—Our Fine Herbarium ruined with Salt Water—Port Moresby once more.