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itself off the ground. It fled from me in skips and jumps. I started chasing after it through the underbrush, holding my spear in readiness. We ran around, me wearing an expression of grim concentration, the chicken crackling and screeching. I didn't catch it, of course, but it occurred to me that I might find a nest with eggs nearby. I went back to where I had first encountered the bird, and there on the ground behind a bush was a large nest and six lovely eggs. They were bigger than domestic hen's eggs and turquoise in colour. They were still warm to the touch. I carefully cracked one open and poured the contents into my mouth. It tasted so good that I couldn't help polishing off three more. The two that remained I carefully padded with leaves and put into the tin with the fruit.

What a lucky guy I am! Six eggs! Thank you, God, thank you.

I also spotted fruit trees on my way. As usual the fruit was out of reach, but occasionally I found a piece that had just fallen and was not yet rotten or devoured by ants and worms. The monkeys were having a banquet in the treetops, stuffing themselves and then tossing down the scraps, peels, and pits, screeching and chattering as if they were making fun of me. I cursed them, hoping one would fall on its head. The curse worked — but on me, not them.

It was almost noon. I was descending a steep hill, and the grass underfoot was wet. I slipped and tumbled, landing on my backside right on a