from
a bamboo schoolhouse on the edge of the forest, show the staid and
solemn demeanour of their elders. For a few miles all goes well, with
the trifling exception of occasional breakages in the countless knots
of the rope harness. The last whistle of the steamer floats upward as
she leaves her anchorage, and refusing to yield to a faint misgiving as
to the success of the present enterprise, eyes and thoughts concentrate
themselves on the increasing beauty of the mountain road, the living
emerald of the rice-fields, and the picturesque mills for husking the
grain, which give special character to this unique district of Celebes.
Suddenly the rickety conveyance comes to a full stop, and a kicking
match begins, the plunging ponies refusing to budge an inch. The
incapable Jehu implores his fare's consent to an immediate return, but
meets with an inexorable refusal, the halting Malay sentences eked out
with an unmistakable pantomime of threats and warnings. The driver's
whip, supplemented by an English umbrella, produces no effect on the
obtuse animals, which have to be led, or rather hauled, on their
unwilling way. One obstreperous steed becomes so unmanageable that it
becomes necessary to hitch him to the back of the cart, at the imminent
risk of overturning it, in his determination to thwart his companion's
enforced progress. Mile after mile the wearisome struggle continues.
Even a lumbering bullock waggon passes us again and again, in the
numerous stoppages required for fresh conflict. The endless hours of
the weary day drag on like a terrible nightmare, but a descent into a
profound ravine of these mountain solitudes at length enables the
driver to start the team at a rate which makes it impossible for them
to stop, and he vaults lightly into his place as we spin merrily
downhill. Our troubles are not over, for on the next upward grade the
old game of rearing, backing, and futile attempts at buck-jumping,
begins again. Despairing eyes rest on a thatched booth at the
roadside, containing a row of bottles hung up by a string, with the
bamboo tube for coins. Holding the ropes, and currying favour with the
ponies by leading them to a patch of grass, it becomes possible for the
boy to leave them for a sorely-needed drink of the sago-wine. The
fiendish animals try to upset the cart, and the fight recommences for
the fiftieth time, but the brown huts of a _campong_ in a cactus
thicket inspire hope, and after a furious battle i