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hills, we found it as lovely as anything we had seen in the more remote and spectacular parts of the island.

We had planed to stay at Prapat over night, but the hotel was full, and we came briskly down the mountain, and into Siantar about 8.30, having traveled exactly 1943 kilometers.

June 13 -

Up early and about the camp to inspect the new members of the menagerie. Our West Coast shipment came through very well, and the tapir and the serows have good outdoor paddocks. The boys have added some more birds and monkeys, some more big snakes and monitor lizards (one came in today that was over eight feet long and looked like a Komodo dragon). But the prize item is a nearly full grown tiger, trapped within 15 kilometers of here while we were looking in all the wild places we could [[strikethrough]] fin [[/strikethrough]] think of, hoping to see tiger.

Harry has grown, and is still tame. He is grand to play with, as he muffs his claws like a little gentleman.

Mr. Milquetoast has a companion. Milquetoast himself is quite brave now, but the new little monkey is still shy. He escaped today and went dashing across the yard, finally taking refuge under the tiger's cage.

Jun 14 -15

Spent most of the time typing notes, getting caught up on official correspondence, packing for our Atjeh trip, and trying to get the mildew out of trunks and suitcases. Everything is covered with creosote, camphor and naphthalene, but green mold pops in every direction - chiefly on evening clothese which we are not needing in this infor al country, and hence have stored away for weeks at a time.

Word has come from Assam, where the government was trying to catch a rhinoceros for us, that one was captured but died "due to the intense heat". So that is another hope gone glimmering. The American Consul in Bangkok writes that there is rumour of a rhino captured there on the northern border, but he "shudders to think of the price that will be asked for it if and when it arrives in Bangkok."

June 16 -

Once more we all pile into the old red Buick, stow our feet among the cameras and collecting gear, and leave camp in the early morning. We rode toward Siriboe Dolok, and the hills where we had our famous camping trip to Dolok Silau. It is a lovely morning, and a beautiful ride. At noon we came to the little town of Kabanjahe, high in the hills, and stopped in the nice little hotel for lunch. We had rather planned on stopping here, but the hotel was full, and we decided to go to Brastagi after all.

We had a letter from Charles Neys, who lives here and describes himself as an old hunter, so to see Mr. Neys we