The afternoon brought my greatest tour de force, when I undertook the construction of the camp latrine. Willie and Roy did the labor, according to my specifications, and we constructed a roof from fan-palm leaves, according to my plans also. Then, thinking that actually they knew much more about the use of palm leaves at tatch and walls, I told them to make the walls. Appa- rently their knowledge is no better or greater than mine, and their ingenu- ity somewhat less because the finished affair looks something like an enormous scrub-hen's nest from the outside and inside one is assailed with fronds of fan palm from every conceivable direction. After the construction of that hygienic monstrosity I went out to do a little hunting before supper and was caught in what is called a scud by those who were not in it. Actually, from my point of view, it was a could-burst, and is still going on as I write. All evening hunting is off, of course, so we shall have to console ourselves with who-dum-its. Len refused to consider any- thing of lower degree than the Atlantic Monthly, but I am having a wonderful time with something called "Death at the Door", having recently finished "Slay the Loose Ladies", which is entertaining George. Van is perusing "The Loss of the Jane Vosper". The mountain subsidiary to Mount Tozer, spoken of yesterday, has now received a name. Joe specializes in a thing which he calls pufftaloney, a sort of doughnut, when he does not have time to bake bread, and we has them last night and at all meals today. The pinnacle has been named "Pufftaloney Peak". Van climbed several hundred feet up Pufftaloney Peak this afternoon and George started cutting the trail up to Tozer, reaching 800 feet. Tomorrow he will take Roy and hopes to finish the trail. Tuesday, 29 June 1948. This day everybody except myself took a crack at some part of Mount Tozer. George took Roy and continued cutting the trail he started yesterday. Len and Willie tackled Mount Puffta- loney from one side while Van and Don Vernon worked from another. Moreton was not invited, nor was Joe, and I decided I would go in the opposite direc- tion entirely. My efforts were rewarded with the largest snake we have had up to date, twelve feet four inches. Ever since Joe's original description of it, back when the expedition was still formative, the Claudie River has had a strong fascination for me and on learning that it drained this area as well as the last two we have been in, and flowed only about half a mile west of us, I wanted to examine it again. Accord- ingly I went down the gully from which we draw our water and finally struck the river. It was wide there, as wide as it is at the airport but being some hun- dreds of feet higher there is no fear of crocodiles. There was a gorge perhaps a hundred yards wide, clear of vegetation and composed of sandstone, I would say. The river ran down the center of the gorge and narrowed so much that it could be crossed in many places white dry-shod; at least it broke into many dif- ferent channels as it ran down the gorge. Thinking to see it at its best I climbed the highest pinnacle of rock I could see on a ledge a few feet below me saw the snake. It was sluggish, being in process of chaingin its skin, but the position was such that I had to be sure of killing it and therefore used No. 9 shot, damaging the skin more than I intended. However I could not climb down and wrestle with it with any hope of winning and if it had been only would it would have vanished into one of the many cracks and crannies in the rock. As it was my shot blew it off the ledge and I had to climb down about twenty feet to retrieve it. Then came the job of transporting it back to camp. It weighed fifteen pounds and felt like fifteen hundred by the time I got back. I had the gear necessary to my two jobs, gun, haversack filled with assorted bug bottles and