south, with the white waves skipping and dancing in white water under the wind was the open sea. All night we cruised back and forth between Oema Island, Masamasa and Mavara, on the southern end of Fauro. In the morning in the face of two light squalls from the southward we made a port tack into North Bay on Fauro Island, and at noon anchored in the shelter of a small strait sheltered by Tauno on the east, and the mainland on the west. Wednesday, November 30th to Friday, December 2nd. Tauno, Fauro Islands. Fauro, collecting from the east, is not a very lucrative place for birds. Our an- chorage was a beautiful one, directly between the northern tip of Tauno Island and the mainland. The tide runs very rapidly through here but the rollers exhaust themselves against the rocky neck of the mainland before they can enter the inlet, and the water is quiet at all times. Five miles away through the inlet and across a large bay is the native village of Kariki, harboring a Methodist Mission station operated under the di- rection of the all powerful Mr. Goldie. As my knee still kept me from going into the bush I rowed over with the captain who wanted to take soundings in the channel. We were given a fine welcome by the natives. Sfarling, an old man of the village who once had been employed by an American with whom he had gone to Sydney at one time, acted as our interlocutor. He gave us a history,