28_th_.—­Left this morning, and had to carry our things, no natives accompanying us.  When about four miles on, we met natives who willingly took our bags and accompanied us to Uakinumu.  The travelling was not so bad—­a good deal of descending and ascending.  Oriope, the old chief, was delighted to see us.  His wives and children have gone with great burdens of betel-nuts and taro to trade at the seaside.  The old fellow goes with us.  We are now 1530 feet above sea-level, east-by-south from last camp—­Mount Owen Stanley due north.  Oriope is Mr. Lawes’s great friend.  He used to live in Munikahila, but trouble through marrying a wife has sent him in here.  He seems greatly attached to Ruatoka.  He is a terrible talker, long-winded and deafening.

29_th_.—­We had a strange sort of a hut for sleeping-quarters on the top of a rock.  The house, being open all round, felt exceedingly cold when the fire went down.  The people here seem much lighter than at the other place, and the children have a more pleasant expression.  Basaltic rocks lie scattered about in every direction.  We had our flag flying, and the admiration was great, the natives viewing it from underneath then from a distance, and in each position noticing something new.  About half-past eleven we left.  The old chief and four carriers went with us.  After crossing the head of the Munikahila Creek we passed through fine thickly-wooded country, that may yet become a very extensive coffee country.  After travelling for some hours, we camped 1800 feet above sea-level.  On the way the carriers struck and were for going back, but we insisted on their going on a little further.  Strange formation of country all around here.  This ridge seems alone in a large basin, one side of which is bare perpendicular rock.  There is a good quantity of cedar, but so difficult to get away that it would never pay to work.  We are north-east from Uakinumu.

30_th_.—­We started late, continued our journey along the ridge, rising gradually to 2250 feet, and then along a fine level country for some miles, when we began to descend.  Soon our old friend began shouting, and received an answer from a village a long way off.  Close by us was a very steep descent, down which we went till we came under the shadow of a great rock, where we rested, and in about an hour up came ten natives unarmed, touched our chins, and we theirs, then all squatted to smoke.  One of them, some time ago, had been to the coast, and knew Rua; his joy at now seeing him in here was great.  A shot had been fired at a cockatoo before they heard the shouting, and they were much afraid.  When all seemed satisfied, and the crust of the news broken, I proposed a start, so up bundles, and away we went.  When having gone about two miles, there was a halt in an open space, and we were given to understand we must camp there.  I could not agree to it, “We must go on to the village.”  “No, you must stay here.”