something that can't always be found. You don't find
adventure the way you find four-leaf clovers; it just happens to you,
like the measles or a blow-out. Still, if one has the time and money
to go after them, there are a lot of curious things that might pass for
adventure when they are shown on the screen."

"Where are they?" the film magnate asked eagerly, spreading upon his
mahogany desk a map of the world.

It was a little disconcerting, this request to point out those regions
where adventure could be found, very much as a visitor from the
provinces might ask a New York hotel clerk to tell him where he could
see the Bohemian life of which he had read in the Sunday supplements.

"There's Russian Central Asia, of course," I suggested tentatively.
"Samarkand and Bokhara and Tashkent, you know. But I'm afraid they're
out of the question on account of the Bolsheviki. Besides, I'm not
looking for the sort of adventure that ends between a stone wall and a
firing-party. Then there are some queer emirates along the southern
edge of the Sahara: Sokoto and Kanem and Bornu and Wadai. But it would
take at least six months to obtain the necessary permission from the
French and British colonial offices and to arrange the other details of
the expedition."

"But that doesn't exhaust the possibilities by any means," I continued
hastily, for nothing was farther from my wish than to discourage so
fascinating a plan. "There ought to be some splendid picture material
among the Dyaks of Borneo--they're head-hunters, you know. From there
we could jump across to the Celebes and possibly to New Guinea. And I
understand that they have some queer customs on the island of Bali,
over beyond Java; in fact, I've been told that, in spite of all the
efforts of the Dutch to stop it, the Balinese still practise _suttee_.
A picture of a widow being burned on her husband's funeral pyre would
be a bit out of the ordinary, wouldn't it? That reminds me that I read
somewhere the other day that next spring there is to be a big royal
wedding in Djokjakarta, in middle Java, with all sorts of gorgeous
festivities. At Batavia we would have no difficulty in getting a
steamer for Singapore, and from there we could go overland by the new
Federated Malay States Railway, through Johore and Malacca and Kuala
Lumpur, to Siam, where the cats and the twins and the white elephants
come from. From Bangkok we might take a short-cut through the Cambodian
jungle, by eleph