he thick foliage through which he rapidly flew.
We, poor creatures, scrambling through the lower part of the forest, had
a difficulty in making our way, without losing our close-fitting
garments; indeed, as it was, they were sadly torn by the underwood. We
were rewarded for our exertions, by reaching another hollow in which a
number of the sago-palms grew.

The sago-palm has a creeping root-stem, like a nipa-palm, and Mr Hooker
had told me that when it is nearly fifteen years old it sends up an
immense terminal spike of flowers, after which it dies. It is not so
tall as the cocoa-nut tree, but is thicker and larger. The mid-ribs of
its immense leaves are twelve or fifteen feet long, and sometimes the
lower part is as thick as a man's leg. They are excessively light,
consisting of a firm pith, covered with a hard rind. They are
frequently used instead of bamboo; entire houses, indeed, are built of
them. They serve for the roofs of houses, as also for the floors; and
when pegged together, side by side, they form the centre part of the
panels of frame houses. As they do not shrink, but look clean and nice,
without requiring varnish, they serve better for walls and partitions
than do ordinary boards. Boxes, also, are made of them; indeed, it
would be difficult to describe the numberless uses to which they are
put. The trunk, however, is the more valuable part, as the pith of the
interior is the staple food of large numbers of the inhabitants of these
regions. I will not stop here to describe how the sago is made; but I
will do so shortly.

We again set to work with our bamboo spades, and dug away most
energetically. Some moisture on the ground encouraged us to proceed,
while the burning thirst from which we were suffering increased our
anxiety for success. As we dug lower the ground became soft, and more
and more moist, when Macco, putting down his hand, brought it up full of
liquid mud. "Water come soon," he exclaimed, digging away more
energetically than before.

"Hurrah!" I shouted. "A spring! a spring! We are indeed lucky!"

"Let us rather say that God is merciful," said Oliver, though in so low
a voice that it seemed scarcely as if he intended me to hear him.

"You are right," I answered; "I do feel grateful." Some bamboos grew a
short way off, and Macco, running to them, soon cut several pieces,
leaving the knots at the ends to serve as bottoms; we thus in a few
minutes were each supplied with a