119. Monday, 2 August 1948. One of the big moments of yesterday I entirely for- got to write about. Too tired, I guess. Just after we had unloaded at this camp, while the blacks were scouting around looking for timber, firewood, and so on, they ran into a couple of other abbos. I was spreading my bed when I heard Moreton yell something about a snake, a black snake. Taking my gun, I ran up the rise to where he was, with two of the strange boys and all all three began to dance around wildly, each point- ing in a different direction and yelling about the black snake. Taking a sort of average of the three gesturing arms, I found a brown snake, one of the Coastal browns, and promptly dispatched it. This morning most of us went into Coen to get acquainted and to make our plans for the next camp as we expect to stay here only about a week. The place is odd but somehow pleasing. Of course there are no streets and only about ten houses but each stands in its bare, clean patch of earth and each has its vegetable garden, watered with Coen River water pumped up by wind camps. In these gardens they grow green vegetables mostly, lettuce, tomatoes, cabbages and so on and a quantity of each was sent out to us this afternoon by Mrs. Arbuthnot, one of the oldest inhabitants. Crowds are beginning to gather, largely abbos, and one old gentleman was resplendent in a brass gorget on which was inscribed the fact that he was King Tommy, of some tribe which I forget. There are still one or two hereditary tribal kings left and each has his gorget as a badge of office, which in due course passes down to his son. Our plans seem to have changed slightly in that it is likely to be so tough to penetrate into the Rocky Scrub that all the time we have allotted for Coen will be required to do it. Consequently there will probably be no camp at Ebagoolg or Lalla Rookh except perhaps a night or so, on our way down to Cooktown. Another piece of news was that a boat is leaving Annie River to- morrow and there will not be another for five or six weeks so Laura becomes our only route to Cooktown. A great mass of office detail and letters to be answered have accumulated. I have done a considerable amount tonight but must spend a lot of tomorrow on them as well. Tuesday, 3 August 1948. Practically all the morning was taken up in catching up with office work, and as another mail is due in tomorrow, I probably have not yet really caught up. In the afternoon I was able to get away and take a walk up the Coen River for about a mile but got few bugs and no reptiles except a small, unwise lizard. This evening I went out jacking again, having done so last night, and feel that tomorrow I can put on mail and office work again in the evening if necessary. Len and George have gone in to Coen to try for more information on the Rocky Scrub but I decided that I would not go. Joe has gone also, having emptied his bottle this afternoon; he has been drunk as a goat for two days but constantly informs me that it he is nothing else, he is a reliable man. The three boys also have gone in to town, having asked for £3 each and receiving £2. I explained to them that they would need money in Cooktown and also when the races start and they seemed pleased with their £2. A difference here from Iron Range is that we are unable to answer letters on Wednesday in time to catch the south plane on Thursday. The airport is four- teen miles from the post office and the road is such that the carrier leaves at 6 A.M. on Thursday to connect with the plane going through at 10.30.