The package made
a profound impression on the Dayaks as well as on the Chinese interpreter,
all of whom crowded around my tent to observe what would follow. I went
elsewhere for a little while, but it was of no avail. They were waiting to
see the contents, so I took my chair outside, opened and read my mail,
closely watched all the time by a wondering crowd.
None of our attendant natives had been in this part of the country before
except a Punan, now adopted into the Kayan tribe, who knew it long ago and
his memory at times seemed dimmed. Fresh tracks of rhinoceros and bear
were seen and tapirs are known to exist among these beautiful wooded
hills. Chonggat succeeded in shooting an exceedingly rare squirrel with a
large bushy tail. We finally made camp on top of a hill 674 metres in
height which we called kampong Gunong.
The Dayaks helped me to construct a small shed with a fireplace inside
where I could dry my wet clothing, towels, etc. Of their own initiative
they also put up around the tent some peculiar Dayak ornamentations in the
shape of long spirals of wood shavings hung on to the end of poles or
trees which they planted in the ground. The same kind of decorations are
used at the great festivals, and when a gentle wind set them in motion
they had quite a cheerful, almost festive appearance.
Every morning, almost punctually at five o'clock, the gibbons or
long-armed, man-like apes, began their loud chatter in the tree-tops, more
suggestive of the calls of birds than of animals. They are shy, but become
very tame in confinement and show much affection. A wah-wah, as the animal
is called in this part of the world, will throw his arms around the neck
of his master, and is even more human in his behaviour than the orang-utan,
from which he differs in temperament, being more vivacious and inclined to
mischief. In a kampong I once saw a young gibbon repeatedly descend into a
narrow inclosure to tease a large pig confined there. The latter, although
three or four times as large, seemed entirely at his mercy and was
submissive and frightened, even when his ears were pulled by the wah-wah.
During my travels in the jungle of Borneo, few were the days in which I was
not summoned to rise by the call of the wah-wah, well-nigh as reliable as
an alarm clock.
My stay here was protracted much longer than I expected on account of rain
and fog, which rendered photographing difficult; one or the other
prevailed almost continuously. Frequently sunlight seemed approaching, but
before I could procure and arrange my camera it had vanished, and light
splashes of rain sounded on my tent.
