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 my party, especially as, to add to our difficulties, in the centre of the bridge we had to crawl through a hole on hands and knees.

This bridge is called by the Lepchas Tak-nil-vong-do-zah, and is occasionally used by them when they go up the valley collecting wax. The combs of the wild bees are found on overhanging precipices, and the only means by which they can be reached is to descend from above on narrow cane ladders just wide enough for a man’s foot, and often 300 feet to 400 feet long. The Lepcha comes down the ladder with an earthen vessel containing fire on his head, and on reaching the combs puts some green leaves on it. This makes a dense smoke and drives the bees away, while he cuts off the combs, which are often 6 feet long and 4 feet thick; he then throws them down to his companions, but it is a hazardous business as, should the smoke not drive off the bees, the man hanging in mid-air has no chance if they attack him. The men waiting below catch the combs, squeeze out the honey and partly clarify the wax on the spot, by placing it in boiling water, skimming it off, and making it into cakes 8 or 9 inches in diameter and 3 or 4 inches thick. The honey is eaten locally, unless it has been made when the magnolia is in flower, in which case it is often poisonous.

A little later we had another equally difficult crossing when we reached the Rungnu. The heavy rain had swollen the river, and the only means of crossing was by placing a tree from the bank we were on, to rest on a small rock in the centre of the stream, from which a notched pole had been placed up the side of a perpendicular rock to a slippery landing on the top. Across this very unsteady and rickety pole I had to go, whether I liked it or not, as there was no other way. It was a very nasty place and I do not mind admitting I would have given a good deal to avoid it.

The river was rushing underneath to dash itself angrily over a precipice some 300 feet high with a deafening roar.