96 RIVERS IN SUMMER

driftwood upon it to make a fire for supper. The
mosquitoes, which we had hoped to avoid, came
out in clouds from either bank, defying the mid-
stream breeze. They plagued the hands that built the
fire and swarmed round the head that was bent
over the grub-box. When we at last sat down on
the pebbles to eat, they swam in the tea, sat in layers
upon the bacon and accompanied each piece of
food into our mouths. We kept our gloves on,
smeared fly-oil over our necks and faces and sat
cursing in the smoke from the fire.

Within half an hour the kettle, frying-pan and
grub-box were back in the boat, and we were
setting off again up-stream. The swaying tree-
trunk bowed monotonously to us as we passed it,
and the jam-pile below us creaked and soughed
until the sudden roar of the motor drowned its
lamentations. Our fire smouldered dully upon the
deserted gravel-bar. The air was still and heavy.

Frequently we had to seize the oars and pull into
shore when the propeller struck a piece of wood
or caught on the shallow bottom of the channel.
Ten minutes would elapse on such occasions while
the broken pin was replaced, and during this time
the mosquitoes closed in eagerly upon us. Some-
times we took the wrong channel, and were
obliged to turn back and start afresh. Sometimes