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-59- One afternoon while Bill was having a busy time transferring snakes and frilled lizards to something more substantial than a wicker basket, the cry went up that a big snake had been seen right in back of the Roemah Sobat. Everybody dashed wildly out, there was much screaming for a time, but nobody could capture the reptile, which quietly vanished. Camp pets up to now consist of Miltiades, a sweet little green lory with a brown head, who sits on your finger and says Ka-Ka in the gentlest little voice; Henry the hornbill, who spends the day on the back of a chair in the corner of the verandah. His [[strikethrough]] food is [[/strikethrough]] daily supply of banans is cut up and the pieces put in a row on a nearby ledge. He can reach over, pick up a piece in the tip of his enormous beak, and toss it down his throat without ever appearing to swallow. Henry is a dirty bird, and practical Bill convulsed the camp by setting a pot directly under his tail - the plan worked, too, - al most perfectly. April 29 - Piroe Word of our expedition has spread to Lajoewen, the next village beyond Eti. Men come stridely briskly up the path, with bundles and baskets slung over their shoulders, as fresh as though they had just started on their ten-kilometer walk. They bring us snakes, cuscus, maleos, and quantities of orchids. The orchids are the long sprays of white blossoms, first discovered by Rumphius in Ambon, and known as Phalaenopsis amabile. The native name is Anggrek boelan (moon orchid) and the Dutch name Vlindertjes (butterflies). We have a great bunch of them on the table, as casual as dogwood at home this time of year. The men from Lajoewen are a good natured lot. Bare from the waist up and the knees down, they grin as they offer us the animals they have caught, and are always cheerful about the price they receive - which the local town people sometimes are not. One woman brought us a small, moth-eaten fruit pigeon, for which she asked two guilders. It was worth about ten cents, if that, and Bill refused it. Later she sent a small girl with it, asking one guilder. Bill offered 25 cents, but she held out for fifty. The same pigeon kept coming back to us, until there was practically nothing left of the poor little thing. We bought to-day a beautiful big white cockatoo, very tame, and with an amazing vocabulary. He mutters very fast what are probably Malay swear words; he barks like a dog, howls like a whipped puppy, whistles snatches of song; sits and ruffles up his white feathers until he seems about to explode, and all in all provides a large percentage of the amusement around camp. His name is Jacob, and Bill threatens to present him to the N. G. S. when we get home. He would certainly enliven that dignified lobby on Sixteenth Street. This is a pretty place. The rest house is close to the sea shore, and all day the native praus rock gently in our front yard. Occasionally we hear the weird notes of natives blowing on conch shells to call the wind so that they can sail home again. We are having full moon, and the nights are almost as bright as day. When the moon comes up over the coconut palms we all walk down the road to watch it. Williams says: "It's just one
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