ite unnecessary to go into further details of that awful
night. I know we all owned up afterward that it was the most trying
night we had ever spent, and for my part I hope I may never spend
another like it. None of us got a wink of sleep. I tried to sleep,
but I was too excited to do so; besides, all my pockets were crammed
full of rifle and revolver cartridges, and I had my revolver strapped
to my side, ready for an attack, or in case we got separated in the
confusion that was sure to ensue. At about 3 a.m. it began to rain,
the first rain we had had in New Guinea for five or six weeks,
and that saved us, for we learned later on that about that time
the Doboduras were gathering together for a rush on our camp, when
the rain set in, and, odd as it may seem, we heard that they had a
superstition against attacking in the rain. What their reason was,
I never got to hear fully, but we were unaware of all these things as
we silently waited and longed for the dawn to break. I never before
so wished for daylight. It came at length, and what a load it took
off our minds! We could now see to shoot at all events. We saw the
Dobodura scouts in the distance on the edge of the forest, but we had
made up our minds to "heau" (Papuan for "run away") as things were
too hot for us. There was a scene of great excitement as we left, and
from the noise our people made they were evidently glad to get away.

The Notus led the way, and they started to hop about, brandishing
their spears. They did excellent scouting work in the long grass,
rushing ahead with their spears poised. This time the rear guard
was formed by some of the police. All the villages we passed through
were again deserted, but we heard the enemy crying out to one another
in the forest and jungle, telling each other of our whereabouts. We
expected an attack, and I often nearly mistook the screeches and cries
of cockatoos and parrots and the loud, curious call of the birds
of paradise for some distant war-cry, which was quite excusable,
considering the state of our nerves and the sleepless night we
had spent.

The Notus were great looters, and as we passed through the various
villages they took everything they could lay their hands on, and our
entrance into a village was marked by a scene of great confusion. Pigs
and chickens were speared, betel-nut palms cut down, and hunting
nets, bowls, spears and food hauled out of the house, but Monckton
was very strict in stopping them