Only Tracks Were Seen, But Our Guide Said That After Three Rainless Days In Succession Birds And Animals Would Be Sure To Come There.

Myriads of yellowish-gray flies covered the ground as well as the rocks, and after having taken some specimens of algae, also some white gelatinous stuff with which the Malays rub themselves when afflicted with beri-beri, I returned to camp.

In spite of frequent light showers the stream failed to rise appreciably, and our goods had to be carried on the back of the men to our next camping place. The following morning we started in a heavy rain at which we rejoiced, because it enabled us to use our prahus until we reached the foot of the dividing ridge. At noon we arrived in camp, with our clothing thoroughly wet. What the downpour might have left intact the Penyahbongs, forgetting everything but the safety of the prahus, had done their best to drench by splashing water all the time. Just as we had made camp the rain ceased and with it, being near the source of the stream, the overflow too passed away. In dry weather it would be a tedious trip to get up the Bakkaang.

For two days we were busy carrying our goods to the top of the ridge. Neither the Malays nor the Penyahbongs are very strong carriers, and they complained of being stenga mati (half dead) from their exertions. On the third day, when the ascent was to be finished, eight of them complained of being sakit (sick) or played out, and they looked it. Fortunately the Saputan chief, who a few days previously had left us to procure more men, returned with four companions, who came in very opportunely. The ascent is neither long nor difficult, a seldom used path leading across the ridge at the most convenient place. The elevation above sea level, taken April 2, by boiling point thermometer, was 425 metres (1,394.38 feet), and the ridge seemed to run evenly to either side. The space for a camp was somewhat cramped, and the small yellow bees that are so persistent in clinging to one's face and hands were very numerous; they will sting if irritated. Even the lieutenant, ordinarily impervious to that kind of annoyance, sought the protection of his mosquito net.

The calls of argus pheasant and wah-wah next morning sounded familiar. The north side of the Bukit, or mountain (the name applied by the natives to the ridge), is steeper and rougher than the south side, but the descent presents no difficulties. We followed the small river Brani, most of the time wading it. The distance to the junction of the Brani with the Kasao River [*] is hardly five hours' walking, but copious showers, which at times changed the river to a torrential stream, interfered with the transportation of our goods, which required five days.

[Footnote *: Kasao is the Malay name. The Saputans call the river Katju.]

Our friend, the Saputan chief, had materially assisted us, and he was desired to walk down to his kampong - by boat only an hour's journey on the swift current - and bring men and prahus to take us away. He was very willing and exceedingly efficient, but he was also, in his childish way, intent on making as much out of us as possible. He wanted to bring too many prahus and men, for all the male population of the kampong were anxious to get this job, he said. I made him a fair offer, and three times he came to tell me that he still had to think over it. Finally, after three hours' deliberation, he accepted my proposition - provided I would pay for two days instead of one! In order to get action, and considering all the days they voluntarily had waited for us at the ridge, I acceded to this amendment and he went away happy.

The men and the prahus came promptly and we began loading; I was glad at the prospect of getting away from the low-lying country, where we had our camp among bamboo trees, with the chance of being flooded should the river rise too high. As we were standing near my tent, getting ready to take it down, a plandok (mouse-deer, tragulus) came along - among the Saputans, and probably most Dayaks, reputed to be the wisest and most cunning of all animals, and in folklore playing the part of our fox. It was conspicuously pregnant and passed unconcernedly just back of the tent. As the flesh is a favourite food of both Dayaks and Malays they immediately gave chase, shouting and trying to surround it, which made the plandok turn back; then the wonderfully agile Saputan chief darted after it and actually caught it alive. Extraordinary agility is characteristic of most Dayaks. An army officer in his report of the Katingans describes how a Dayak "suddenly jumped overboard, drew his parang, and with one stroke cut a fish through the middle. Before we knew what had happened the material for our supper was on board."

After a pleasant drifting down the current of the Kasao River, about noon on April 7 we arrived at Data Laong, a Saputan kampong consisting of three small communal houses. On the river bank a small space had been cleared of grass for my tent. The people seemed very amenable to my purposes and there was a primitive atmosphere at the place. We had used seventeen days from Tamaloe, much in excess of the time calculated, but under unfavourable circumstances we might easily have used double. There was reason to be satisfied at arriving here safely without having incurred any losses. We could look forward with confidence to the remainder of the journey, mainly down the great Mahakam River, toward distant Samarinda, because the Dayaks along the route were very numerous and had plenty of prahus.

CHAPTER XIX

THE SAPUTANS - HOW THE EARS OF THE CHIEF WERE PIERCED - AN UNEXPECTED ATTACK OF FILARIASIS - DEPARTURE FROM THE SAPUTANS - DOWN THE KASAO RIVER - "TOBOGGANING" THE KIHAMS

The Penyahbongs, men of the jungle, who left us to return home, had not proved such good workers as the Saputans, who, though in a pronounced degree smaller, mostly below medium size, are very strongly built.

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