^ To Yenan-Gyaung
ledges protruding from the slopes, each with its dark circle of oi y refuse and its winding path beaten white by the feet of the towers.
But it is at the receiving station, where the Burmese output of oil is measured and taken over by the company's agents, that the bizarre character of Yenan-Gyaung becomes intense. The inner space, where these operations are gone through, is surrounded by a wide circle of black, greasy pitch, an amalgam of oil and mud, stamped with the footprints and the hoof-marks of men and cattle, and crowded with carts full of glistening jars of oil. Beside them are the great