I did not attempt to shoot any more mock geese
till we had put a good many miles between ourselves and the dead
stag. We passed several canoes slowly wending their way to the eaves,
the people taking it easy and camping on the banks and fishing. They
dried the fish on the roofs of their thatched canoes. Some of these
people had very curious rattan pyramid-shaped hats gaily ornamented
with strips of bright-coloured cloth.
Toward evening the river got exceedingly narrow, and fallen trees
obstructed our way, so that we had sometimes to lie flat on our backs
to pass under them, and at other times we had to get out while our
canoe was hauled over the mud at the side.
Just before we reached our destination for the night, we came to a
spot where the bank was hung with bits of coloured cloth and calico
fastened to sticks, I also noticed some bananas and dried fish tied to
the sticks. This signified that there was a native burial ground close
by, and all the canoes were stopped, the scullers putting their paddles
down, while the Hadji and all his men proceeded to wash their faces
in the river. This they did to ensure success in their nest-collecting.
We stayed the night in one of two raised half-thatched huts used only
by the natives in the collecting seasons, a ladder from the river
leading into them. It was almost dark when we arrived, and hardly were
we under shelter when rain came down in torrents. It poured all night,
and when we started off on foot at sunrise the next morning we found
the track in the forest a regular quagmire; in places we waded through
mud up to our knees. As we scrambled and floundered through the mud
at our best pace we heard a great crashing noise just in front of us,
and the air resounded with cries of "Gajah, gajah!" (elephant). I was
just in time to see a large elephant tear by. It literally seemed to
fly, and knocked down small trees as if they were grass. It seemed
greatly frightened, and made a sort of coughing noise. It went by so
quickly that I was unable to see whether it had tusks or not.
After about three hours' hard tramping, I caught sight of a high
mass of white limestone gleaming through the trees. It made a pretty
picture in the early morning, the white rock peeping out of luxuriant
creepers and foliage. It rises very abruptly from the surrounding
forest, and at a distance looked quite inaccessible to a climber.
We waded through a stream of clear water, washing the horrible forest
mud from off us, and soon found ourselves in a most picturesque
village at the very base of the rock.
