The soldiers, grinning at one another, began saying, “Kin-kow? Kin-kow?” and the meal began. Before it was finished we thought better of both the jungle and its people. Taken from their shell of mud, the frogs were found to be baked in round balls and tasted like fried fish. The toasted pith from the tree tasted like pickled beets. Best of all was the lizard curry. James and I ate more than our share, and we told each other that we wished the pair sent to pound the old tree-trunk had remained longer at their task.
We went on with the soldiers, halting after dark at the bank of the largest stream we had yet faced. There was no village here, but the government had built a rest house for soldiers on the bank. In this we spent the night with the troopers, after eating a frog-and-lizard supper.
Beyond there were not so many mountains and the path was well marked; but the river beside which we had left the soldiers was deep and swift, and wound back and forth, crossing our route again and again. In the first few morning hours we swam it no less than fourteen times. It was the ninth crossing that gave us the most trouble. Reaching the narrow, sandy bank a bit before my companion, I pulled off my clothes, tied the bundle to my head, and plunged in. James began to disrobe as I reached the other shore. Without removing his ragged shirt or his helmet, he fastened on his bundle as I had done, and struck out.
Being an excellent swimmer, he glided along easily, with long, swift strokes. Unfortunately, he did not take care to keep his head pointed up-stream. The powerful current caught him suddenly and dragged him under. He righted himself quickly, but in that short struggle lost both his bundle and his helmet. He tried to save them, but caught only his helmet. His bundle raced down-stream. I sprang to my feet and dashed along the sandy shore after it. But the stream was far swifter than I. The tangled undergrowth brought me to a sudden halt, and the Australian’s possessions were swallowed up in the jungle.
I returned to find him sitting unhappily on the bank.
Myself after four days in the jungle, and the Siamese soldiers who invited us to eat a frog and lizard supper.
With the bundle had gone his shoes, trousers, jacket, the odds and ends he had picked up on his travels, his military and citizenship papers, and the pocket compass; in short, everything he owned except a helmet and a tattered shirt.
But James was not a man to be long discouraged by little things. He tied the shirt about his loins and we went on. As he had nothing to carry, he marched more easily and crossed the streams with far less difficulty than I. But in less than an hour his shoulders, back, and legs were painted a fiery red by the unmerciful sun; and the stones and jagged brambles tore and bruised his feet until he left a blood-stain at every step.
We were again overtaken by the soldiers about noonday, and halted for another jungle meal. Off once more, we pushed ahead, but found it wise to wait for the troopers to lead the way; for the route was beset by unexpected pitfalls—as once when, in fighting our way along the bank of the river, we crashed headlong through the bushes into a dry, stony bed of a branch river fifteen feet below. This accident left little of my clothing, and made the Australian look worse than before.