Towards dark a party of Chinese from Yunnan, who had sold their goods at Zimmé, came scampering by, armed with Shan dahs or swords, spears, and very antiquated horse-pistols. They were conducting a caravan of between forty and fifty mules and ponies to Maulmain, intending to bring them back laden with piece-goods and general articles of merchandise. They ultimately camped about half a mile from us, as several times in the evening we heard from that direction what we considered to be the discharge of firearms. Chinamen were not likely to waste powder in frightening off dacoits or wild beasts when they had any simpler, equally efficient, and cheaper means at command; and next morning we learnt our mistake in a very unexpected and alarming manner. We were suddenly awakened by a fusillade of reports around our camp. I jumped up, seized my Winchester, and rushed out, thinking that our party was being attacked. I found the boys squatting quietly round the fire, grinning like monkeys, and heaping on joints of green bamboos. The liquid in the cavities turning to steam under the influence of heat, caused them to explode, thus giving rise to the reports which had startled us. The rascals had learnt the trick from Portow, and were amusing themselves at our expense, being evidently bent on giving us a good fright.
Leaving the zayat a little before seven, we crossed the river and clambered over a low hillock, and continued through the forest, with teak-trees still appearing at intervals. Small hills and spurs from the Kyouk Toung range were occasionally seen to the east, backed up by the Yare-they-mare hill, a great spur of the Dana range, some four miles distant. About half-past eight we crossed the Hlineboay river for the last time, and shortly afterwards ascended 80 feet to the crest of the high ground, 300 feet above sea-level, and seventeen miles from Hlineboay, which forms the water-parting between the Hlineboay and Yambine rivers.
Thence we passed through the forest, still occasionally with teak-trees, following the course of the Yingan stream, with hills at times bordering on either side, and halted at half-past eleven for breakfast by the side of the stream, under a magnificent clump of thyt-si trees, which produce the celebrated black varnish. These monarchs of the forest, 130 feet in height, owing to great buttresses springing from the stem some feet from the ground, were of enormous girth, and looked truly magnificent. Here was a perfect place for a mid-day halt: hill, forest, and water scenery all combined; a cool stream as a bath for the elephants and ourselves; shelter from the heat of the sun; a pleasant glade for a ramble whilst breakfast was being prepared. Nothing was wanting but the songs of birds and the rippling chatter and laughter of girls to make our picnic all that could possibly be desired. Day after day, month after month, we enjoyed such picnics on our travels.
We struck camp at a quarter past two, and after a little more than an hour’s journey, still following the stream, reached Teh-dau-Sakan, the halting-place close to the Lanma-Gyee Garté, the last British police post on our road to the Shan States—having thoroughly enjoyed our day.
The police station, which is situated twenty-four miles from Hlineboay, consists of two thatched buildings built of bamboo, and surrounded with a dilapidated stockade, which would have been useless as a defence against dacoits. It was occupied by ten or twelve Madras constables, who complained much of the feverishness of the locality, and begged for quinine, saying they were out of it. I never met less intelligent men in my life; they seemed to know nothing of the locality, and the idea of a map was utterly incomprehensible to them—they had not been educated up to it. There was no getting any information from them; the whole current of their thoughts ran towards carna and pice (food and money), and their bodily ailments.
We erected our shelter for the night about a hundred yards from the station, in a grove of thyt-si trees, each measuring from 30 to 40 feet in circumference five feet from the ground. A large party of Shans from Lapoon encamped near us, and came over in the evening for a chat with our men. Camp-fires were dotted around us in all directions. Each elephant had, besides the mahout, an attendant to look after its wants, lop branches off banian and other trees for its food, shackle its fore-feet when we halted, and aid in its morning, noonday, and evening bath.
Each couple of men built a fire for themselves, and kept it alight during the night, partly for warmth and partly to scare wild beasts that might be wandering around. Kouknyin, the glutinous rice eaten by the Karens, is steamed, and not boiled. An earthen pot, or chatty, is placed upon three stones or clods of earth, which serve as a tripod; on the top of the pot is placed the basket containing the rice, and the junction is made air-tight with a wet cotton rag. A fire is then lighted under the pot, and the steam from the water in the pot rises into the rice and cooks it. Whilst hot the rice is stuffed into joints of green bamboos about a foot in length, and eaten when required. Joints of green bamboos likewise serve them for kettles: placed slanting over a fire, the water soon boils. The elephants feeding in the neighbourhood could be heard crashing through the bushes, rending off branches that suited their fancy. These animals were our sentinels, and would trumpet if a tiger came roving in their neighbourhood.
It would have been pleasant to sit in the open air and watch the stars as they twinkled through the trees, if it had not been for the heavy dew which commenced to fall soon after sundown. Loogalay’s mosquito-curtains, made of stout cotton cloth, were dripping wet the next morning, and he came with a long face and wrung them out before us. Portow merely jeered at him, and asked why he had not erected a leaf-shelter, as the other men had done. It is worse than useless complaining of the effects of one’s folly in a company of wits.
Next morning, the 26th of January, we ordered two of the elephants to be got ready to take us on an excursion down the Yembine valley, the farther end of which I had visited on a tour up the Salween. This would give me a chance of learning to survey from the top of an elephant. At first thoughts one would deem such a feat to be impossible; the pitching and rolling of the huge beast, which goes along like a Dutch lugger in a chopping sea, would prevent the compass being brought to rest, and most likely jam it into one’s eye. Yet, by giving way to the swaying movements of the brute, I managed to get as perfect results as when surveying on foot. From thenceforth, during my land journeys, I surveyed from the back of an elephant.
The boys, in packing our breakfast for us, perhaps out of fun, omitted not only to put in my cigars, but also our knives, forks, and spoons, forcing us to improvise some out of slips of bamboo to avoid having to feed native-fashion, with our fingers.