from the anchorage, that is. But getting to it through the tangled mass of the forest which scarcely ever allows a view beyond a hundred yards is another matter. And one may have climbed all day, gotten a view from the summit of some mountain, and come down again, without ever knowing what he saw and from what mountain he saw it from. Such was my case. Marco and I climbed to the summit of this mountain he called Koomba. There was very good shooting. Collected three thickheads, two pigmy parrots, eight or ten fantails, and flycatchers, white-eyes, longtails, large green parrots, and a small inky blue kingfisher. The yellow-bibbed doves stay in high altitudes on Ganonga, and none were seen by any of the France's outfit under two thousand feet. At the top of Koomba, which Marco and I attained at about noon, there is a place where a good view is obtainable. I reckoned that the direction is due west towards Vella Lavella, and that the height of the summit is in the neighborhood of two thousand feet. The summit is described in the form of a small plateau. Pig trails lead backwards and forwards over it, but save for these, and the mud bathtubs that the pigs have dug for themselves in the mud, the growth is thick. There is a point at which Marco described in pidgin English as dividing the trail between KoombaKota and Ranonga (I do not vouch for the spelling), Ranonga evidently being about the same distance down on the other side as the distance we had already traversed.