Outing . o remain on the causeway whichends at the Mont, but are compelled to godown and park on the sand. We did notdiscover why this was necessary unless itwas to enable the keeper of the garage toexact from us a tip of a franc for his sup-posed watchfulness of our motor, lest itshould sail off into the ocean while wewere within the walled town. The run from Mont St. Michel took usback over the causeway to Pontorsonon the mainland, and thence throughthe quaint little city of Dol, which wasthe first city we entered in Brittany, forthe River Couesnon, which we crossed atPontorson, is the divid
Outing . o remain on the causeway whichends at the Mont, but are compelled to godown and park on the sand. We did notdiscover why this was necessary unless itwas to enable the keeper of the garage toexact from us a tip of a franc for his sup-posed watchfulness of our motor, lest itshould sail off into the ocean while wewere within the walled town. The run from Mont St. Michel took usback over the causeway to Pontorsonon the mainland, and thence throughthe quaint little city of Dol, which wasthe first city we entered in Brittany, forthe River Couesnon, which we crossed atPontorson, is the dividing line betweenthe two provinces, Normandy and Brit-tany. We approached St. Malo just at eveningand it made one of the most pleasant im-pressions upon us of any of the towns vis-ited on our trip. The rain, which hadbeen nothing short of a downpour duringour run, had ceased and the evening sunwas setting all the windows of the townablaze. BEARDING THE BURMESE TIGER BY W. A. FRASER DRAWING BY CHARLES SARKA. ^NE morning Emir Aliicame to me as I waitedin Dans bungalow atKyouk Pyhou and saidthe Burmese boat wasready to take us toPahree we were going to recover myboat that had sunk in the cyclone; inreality I knew that Dan hungered for thegold-and-brown coat of Sher Bagh the morning we started. Of all thebuoyant, crazy-hearted craft with which aman ever essayed twisting currents andwitch-like winds that chopped aroundisland points, that Burmese conception ofa vessel was the most flippant. As an ark of no destination, and de-signed to ride the waves, it would havebeen all right; it was as skittish as an airship. According to the boat and the windwe desired to visit seven different islands,which we did; but in three days, in the wayof a miracle, we came to the village ofMyoboung on Pahree Island. When we asked for men to search for mysunken boat the Burmese talked of theprodigious plowing and rice planting thatwas at hand. Even then they were restingup the
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