To This Number We Were Able To Add Three Malays From The Kampong.

One was the Mohammedan guru (priest), another a mild-tempered Malay who always had bad luck, losing floats of rattan in the kihams, and therefore passed under the nickname of tokang karam (master of misfortune).

The third was a strong, tall man with some Dayak blood, who was tatued. Djobing, as he was named, belonged to a camp of rattan workers up on the Busang, and decided to go at the last moment, no doubt utilising the occasion as a convenient way of returning.

I was glad to see him climb down the steep embankment, carrying in one hand a five-gallon tin, neatly painted, which had opening and cover at the long side, to which a handle was attached. Under the other arm he had the usual outfit of a travelling Malay, a mat, on which he slept at night and in which were wrapped a sheet and a few pieces of light clothing. His tin case was full of tobacco and brought forth disparaging remarks from the lieutenant, who was chary of the precious space in the prahus.

Having successfully passed the censor Djobing was assigned to my prahu, where he soon showed himself to be a very good man, as alert as a Dayak and not inclined to save himself trouble. He would jump into the water up to his neck to push and steer the prahu, or, in the fashion of the Dayaks and the best Malays, would place his strong back under and against it to help it off when grounded on a rock.

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