August 16th.—We were up by daybreak; and while “Jeludin” was preparing breakfast, I went out with the men collecting such plants as I wanted, and packing them in the native sago-sheath baskets (granjombs) with which we had provided ourselves. I was anxious to begin thus early, as I wanted to start most of the men back to Kiau to-day. After three or four hours’ hard work, we loaded twelve men and started them off on the downward journey; and as we intended staying two days longer up the mountain, they had orders to collect other plants which I had pointed out to them near Kiau. After starting them off, I was glad to take breakfast before exploring further for other things which I much wished to procure. After our repast I started off over the ridge of the spur, progress, however, being very slow, as nearly all the way one had to climb through branches, roots, or low shrubs. A glossy-leaved begonia, with large white flowers, was common beside the streams, and three species of coelogyne were met with growing among the rocks and bushes. A great many small-flowered orchids of various genera were seen, but few were in bloom. Dacrydium, phyllocladus, and a peculiar casuarina of drooping habit were seen, and several herbaceous plants, among which I noted a drosera and a species of dianella, much resembling those of Australia. Among ferns were at least two species of trichomanes, two or three gleichenias, a peculiar form of dipteris resembling D. Horsfieldii, but dwarfer and quite glaucous, nearly white indeed below, and a strong-growing blechnum. Several mosses in fruit were gathered, and most of them were either absolutely new, or had not been discovered in Borneo before. Here and there I came across patches of an acre or two in extent of rocky mountain side without any tree-growth. These rocky patches were carpeted with coarse sedges, among which the great Nepenthes Rajah grew luxuriantly, an enormous crimson-tinted pitcher depending from each of its large lower leaves. These gigantic urns were for the most part filled with rain-water, among which were the remains of ants, beetles, and other insect-life. Nearly all the pitchers were found resting on the surface of the earth, and in most cases they were hidden by the overhanging leaves, sedges, and dÉbris among which the plants grow. It was, in the case of the younger specimens—plants a foot high or so—that the pitchers were most evident and luxuriant. Seedlings of this size were even more ornamental than their big jug-bearing brethren. Here and there were specimens of N. Rajah, great clumps having stems five or six feet in height, with very broad massive leaves, and pitchers capable of holding two or three pints of water. It is these large plants which flower most freely, some of the stems bearing three or four spikes of their rich maroon-tinted blossoms, around which two or three kinds of flies or gnats were playing in the sunshine. The female plants were not nearly so plentiful as were the males, and I am inclined to think that these tiny flies aid fertilisation, for some of the female plants were a long way distant from any males, and yet they appeared to have been fertilised. N. villosa is often found in these open patches with the larger kind just alluded to, but more frequently it affects the margins of the open patches, and luxuriates among the low bushes, by which its weaker and more elongated stems are supported. N. Lowii and the beautiful N. Edwardsiana appear never to reach so high an altitude as those just named. I cannot describe the elated emotions I felt in traversing this mountain side, and gazing on forms of vegetable life the most remarkable of any to be found in the whole world! Hunger, bruises, and the repeated drenchings we had received during our journey hither, these and all other of our troubles seemed to vanish as I gazed around me on the wonders of creation and inhaled the cool invigorating mountain air. We returned to our cave-dwelling about four o’clock. As I write up my diary, a tiny bird is flitting about quite close to me, and does not appear in the least afraid. It is but little larger than a wren, its body being of a dark brown colour; the head and shoulders are mottled with yellowish brown. From its lively and erratic flight, I suspect it is of the flycatcher group. It flits backwards and forwards from bough to bough, and frequently leaves a branch as though flying right off, and quite surprises you by suddenly and adroitly twisting itself round and dropping back into the place from which it started. Another occasional visitor is a blackbird, having a golden bill and a reddish-brown breast. It strongly resembles our own blackbird indeed, but is perhaps a trifle fuller in the body. Again, we heard the little songster alluded to in the account of my first visit here. I know of no bird whose melody possesses the ravishing sweetness and variety of melody of this one, its song in the early morning being especially delightful. Were it possible to introduce it, this little stranger would be a most welcome addition to our domesticated song-birds here at home. Space is limited here in this cave, and one has to sit pretty close to the fire. Just after dinner to-night, as I sat making notes in my pocket-book, Smith, in lifting our extemporised kettle off the fire, let it fall, and the boiling water fell over my feet. My boots were off, and the pain was rather hard to bear. “Suong,” who is equal to all emergencies, recommends me to put some wet salt on the scalded portions of my feet, which, to please him, I did, and the pain soon after abated. I was very sorry for this accident, being afraid it would prevent my extending my excursions up the mountain side to-morrow, as I had arranged to do. It is raining very heavily, and Smith reminds me that we have only had two wholly fine days since leaving Labuan.

August 17th.—Our cave had become drier, owing to the fire we had constantly kept burning, and we slept well last night. One of our men, on going to his basket this morning, found a rat in it, which he at once secured and killed. It had doubtless been tempted by the warmth and his little store of food. It resembled very nearly the long-tailed grey Norway species, now so common in England, and was quite distinct from the short-tailed, long-snouted kind, of which “Kurow” had trapped two specimens during our first visit here. When our Dusun guides came in, one of them quickly appropriated it as a desirable addition to his edible stores. Our own breakfast this morning was of oatmeal porridge (a nice change from constantly eating rice) and tea and biscuit. I had some difficulty in putting my boots on, owing to the scalding my feet received last night. My feet were very painful at first, but getting warm with walking, they did not inconvenience me so much as I had expected. We had a long walk up the mountain side to-day searching for seeds and plants. The highest height we reached was 10,700 feet, but it must be pointed out that our object was to collect all the plants and seeds we could in the richest vegetable zone on the mountain, and not to reach the summit. Had our object been to ascend to the top nothing would have prevented our doing so; indeed, the real difficulties of climbing “Kina Balu” are very few, and not worth mentioning; indeed, we found our journey to its base from the coast far more exacting to our strength and temper. We were fortunate in our search to-day, having, after a long and disappointing search yesterday, failed to obtain the particular plants and seeds I was anxious to obtain. To-day, however, I was rewarded by finding a few in good condition. We returned to our cave at about four o’clock, and found our Dusun followers, who had been in another direction, had also brought me in a nice lot of seeds, plants, and flowers. They had complained of the cold nights on the mountain, and threatened to leave us this morning (as indeed they did last journey), but I promised them some rice for their evening meal, and eventually they had consented to stay another night. Before dinner we packed up our plants and seeds carefully, and arranged everything ready for our descent in the morning. I wished to start early, so as to have plenty of time for collecting on our way, as at one spot I much wished to make a dÉtour to collect seeds. Our bird visitors came around us to-day again, and fearlessly came quite close to pick up the crumbs of rice we threw towards them. We have had rain more or less for two whole days, and it was bitterly cold towards eight o’clock, when we wrapped our rugs around us to retire for the night. My thermometer stood at 45° just outside the cave, and during the night it had descended to 38°. I awoke during the night quite stiff with cold, although I lay close to a good fire. My rugs had slipped from my shoulders, and I was glad to fold them tightly around me, and to put more fuel on the fire. It was a lovely moonlight night, the light being so strong on the branches opposite our cave as to make them look as if covered with snow. Mr. St. John mentions having seen a sort of hoar-frost here during one of his journeys. The great fall looked like a silver streak down the rocky mountain side opposite, and the rush of its waters into the chasm below comes quite clearly through the night air.

August 18th.—While Jeludin boiled the water for our coffee this morning, I carved my initials on the soft red sandstone wall of our cave, and then clambered up a tree just opposite to try and get a better view. All is mist and cloud below us except seaward, where a strip of the coast line and the rivers towards Menkabong and Gaya are visible. I can see the great fall very plainly coming down the face of the rock opposite, just where it disappears into the wooded gully, below there is a magnificent grove of tree ferns, and as I am fully a thousand feet above them, I can look down on their expanded clusters of fresh green fronds, and the effect in the morning sunlight is past all description. About 7.30 a.m. we started on our downward journey, at first climbing the ridge through roots and branches which were notched here and there for foothold. On reaching the path above, a few minutes’ walk brings us to a series of great steps and an open space or two covered with jutting rocks and boulders, sedges, low bushes, and the great pitcher-plants. Here we made a short stay collecting, much to the disgust of our Dusun guides, who pointed to the dark clouds and told us we should have rain, and much wished us to push onwards. Lower down still we came across plants of the beautiful Nepenthes Edwardsiana, scrambling up bushes and casuarina trees to a height of twenty or thirty feet. Both this species, and also the curious N. Lowii, are frequently perfectly epiphytal, all the old stems and roots originally in the ground being dead, but the top growth has rooted into the wet moss and dÉbris which rests on the trees and bushes everywhere around. Of the first-named there are two distinct varieties, differing in the length and form of their pitchers. N. Lowii is first seen at about 5,000 feet, and is one of the most singular of the whole group, its urns being flagon-shaped, and of a hard leather-like consistence. Growing quite plentifully beside the path were tiny plants bearing tripetalous flowers of a white or pink tint, and very pretty. In some places it was quite bushy in habit and a foot in height, being literally covered with blossoms. Some large mosses, one of them having stems a foot in height, were also gathered, and a few inconspicuous orchids, epiphytal and otherwise, were observed in bloom. A plumose filmy fern (Trichomanes, sp.?) depended here and there from the half rotten casuarina branches overhead.

Owing to the rain yesterday our descent was far from pleasant, and falls were not infrequent, in fact on both occasions I have found descending this mountain very troublesome and dangerous owing to the wretched paths one has to follow. I carried a sago sheath basket behind me, fitted with bark straps for the shoulders, and it was lucky I did so, for I had one or two nasty falls backwards, and it saved my head more than once from contact with the slippery stones. Our guides have at last gone on a-head quite disgusted at my stopping here and there to take up a plant or gather seeds, which I can never resist doing. My boots had given way like brown paper owing to their being constantly wet, and I had to tie them on my feet with strips of bark. My feet had chafed where scalded, and were now very painful, while the constant strain on the legs during the slippery descent was very exhausting. However after many falls backwards and forwards we reached Kiau about four o’clock p.m. thoroughly tired and hungry. I felt thankful when I regained the hill above the village where all the hard work is over. I had tired out the patience first of our guides, then of my Labuan men, and even Smith had at last left me lingering collecting roots and specimens, and so I was the last man of our party to reach the village. As I descended the hill three of my men met me and took my load of plants, for I had both arms full besides the basket at my back. Tired and wet as I was I could not resist the impulse to look at the plants my men had brought down two days before, and I was glad to find that they were fresh and healthy. A mist swept around us soon after I got inside the house, and the steady rain we had experienced all the afternoon changed to a regular downpour. I was glad to put on my dry clothes after a thorough good wash and rub down with a towel warmed at the fire. I found that the skin was off my feet in great patches, and they swelled very much after removing my boots. Smith had a large sore on his heel, and he agreed with me that our ascent was child’s play compared with the descent.

My “boy” had cooked us some rice and had bought us some fine ripe tarippe fruit to eat with it. We afterwards had a cup of nice warm chocolate each, and lighting our cigarettes, our fatigue and bruised shins were soon forgotten, as we nestled cosily in our warm rugs in the glow of a sweet wood fire. After our return crowds of people flocked in to see us, and the house resembled a market-place, fowls, rice, sweet potatoes, maize cobs, rattan hats, tobacco, wax, caoutchouc, and Dusun gourd-organs of bamboo being among the produce and manufactures offered. The men squat down in groups, and there is a great deal of talking about the mountain and “Tuan Hillow” (Mr. Low), and “Tuan Bunga,” the name by which I am known to these people as well as to the Malays of the coast. It is quite a gala night, and the young girls are full of questions about the mountain. My men “Suong” and “Jeludin” told me that the cave on the mountain was a good place to sleep in, as there were no spirits there, adding that on the island at Gaya, and also at Pulo-Tiga they had been afraid to sleep, as the spirits were so many there! By the first stream we crossed to-day in descending the mountain, a pretty pink-flowered impatiens was flowering freely, and on the wet rocks we noticed a tuft of red-berried nertera. On a dripping wet rock here also a very fine trichomanes luxuriates, forming large mat-like masses of black roots, and long finely-cut filmy fronds. Two boys brought in a quantity of anÆctochili to-night soon after our arrival, and asked for needles in exchange, which we gladly gave them. The talking and laughter of the natives, who seemed quite pleased at our safe return, lasted until I fell asleep about eight o’clock, how much later I do not know. Previous to this I called “Suong,” and bade him tell all the villagers assembled that I intended leaving in the morning, so as to give time for my men to prepare their things, and that the natives, knowing our intentions, might bring in any fowls or rice they wished to sell early ere our departure.

August 19th.—First thing this morning I heard that our buffalo, which had been turned loose to graze on the green here, is missing. All the men went to seek it while we ate our breakfast. “Kurow” had so often tried to induce me to exchange this animal—a female—for a male of his own that I was for a time suspicious of his having stolen it during the night. We had intended to start for Koung to-day, but the loss of our buffalo will detain us, as we cannot well leave without it, partly on account of its use to me now that my feet are raw and tender, and partly because it will not do to allow a theft to pass unpunished. A Dusun woman brought in a basket of fresh ginger roots this morning, which I find is cultivated by these people. Several fowls and some rice were also brought in, and these my “boy” bought in exchange for our old biscuit tins and glass bottles. During our forced delay I walked out to take a last look at the village, and to make a few sketches and notes. In the little flat-topped hut, which served as a head-house, I found a pile of about fifty skulls in one corner, some being in a basket suspended on the wall. These, the villagers tell me, are the skulls of their old enemies, and their individuality seemed well known to one old man, who pointed out several to me as having once rested on the shoulders of some of the Chinese settlers, who, some few years ago, disappeared from this Dusun country altogether, although their peculiar physiognomy still lingers among the Dusun tribes into which they married, so that it is just possible that they became absorbed into the native tribes. Others were pointed out as the heads of their old foes the Lanun, whom the Dusun people detest, say that they formerly came up to the hills with the ostensible purpose of trading, but adding, that they really wanted to steal their children as slaves. I offered “Boloung” a good Tower musket for a couple of these heads, but so highly are they still valued by these people that he refused to part with them, even for so high a price. This custom of head-hunting may be said to have died out amongst the Dusun, since they failed to subsist by hunting, and have taken to the less exciting employment of land culture. One place was pointed out to me where thirty men and their chief had been slaughtered together and their heads taken, only a few years ago. This was at a ford near Sineroup, and a rude circle of stones still marks the spot where the bodies were interred; all the stones are single except that which represents the chief, which has a smaller stone on its apex. I find the custom of marking burial places with erect stones very common among these people. On returning to the house I find that “Kurus,” one of my men, a shock-haired Bruneian, has brought in my buffalo, having tracked it through the soft mud to a bit of jungle at some distance from the village, and there he found him tied to a tree!

The large house in which we stayed is big enough to accommodate five or six families, and the large common room, which extends from end to end, will hold twenty or thirty men and their baggage quite comfortably, having three or four hearth-stones for fires at intervals. It stands on a grassy knoll just at the entrance to the village, and the group of pinang and cocoa-nut palms on the lower side give to it quite a picturesque appearance. All over this district tree-ferns are very beautiful, especially so in the valleys and glades which exist up among these cool hills. Every now and then the traveller comes upon whole groves of them, and solitary groups exist even in the cultivated ground. So sweetly fresh and green are they, and quite distinct in form and tint from all surrounding vegetation, indeed, these feathery tree-ferns, and the tall clustering wands of bamboo, form the most distinctive features of the landscape. We at length bade our friends good-bye, and the whole village came to the knoll above the stream to see us start, and the girls were especially interested and begged of us to come again and bring them some needles, looking-glasses, and cloth.

Coming down the hill-side cornfields from Kiau I saw here and there patches of cotton (Gossypium barbadense), and a delicate pink-flowered variety of tobacco was in bloom, and being supported by stakes, were perhaps left for seed. On the steep side of the opposite hill are numerous little farms, and on each you see a tiny flat-topped bamboo-hut which is used for shelter and rest during field labour. The soil is a reddish friable loam, thickly sprinkled with large sandstone boulders and stones; while in the lower plains and valleys is a deep black deposit which under irrigation yields splendid crops of rice. Under European protection and management, aided by systematic Chinese coolie labour, the virgin tracts on these hill ranges might be worked with advantage in the production of coffee and cinchona. Once fairly started, and with improved roads, this district would possess many attractions, not the least being a comparatively cool and salubrious climate. At elevations of 3,000 to 5,000 feet a cool bracing air is readily obtainable, indeed, as suggested by Mr. Low, the Marie Parie spur would form a capital site for a sanatorium of the utmost value to Europeans. At higher elevations a really cool climate, almost European, in fact, is obtainable. To bring this fertile district into cultivation and to form anything like good roads, however, would be a task Herculean, and one only to be accomplished by an immense expenditure of labour and capital. The system employed by the natives in clearing their new farms is to fell the trees and then to burn them during the dry season. The old stumps are left, and to prevent the rich earth and forest dÉbris from being washed away by heavy rains, logs are laid against these horizontally all down the steep shoulders of the spurs. Land newly cleared yields splendid crops of hill or dry rice, maize, kaladi, tobacco, sweet potato, and other crops. There is very little primitive forest on these lower hill ranges and spurs, nearly all the land not now actually under culture being fallow, in the shape of low jungle. The only really virgin forest is the tops of the hills beyond Kiau and the spurs of Kina Balu itself on the south and east sides. On our way to Koung to-day we had a lot of trouble owing to the swollen and rapid state of the river, which we crossed no less than thirteen times. All along our way we saw little torrents of muddy water pouring into the river from the hill-sides. The two last times we had to cross the stream previous to our reaching the regular ford at the entrance to Koung village were really very dangerous, and I shudder when I think of the surging torrents we crossed, and of the large treacherous boulders, water-worn and as smooth as ice, which lay hidden in their beds.

I rode my buffalo: Smith walked and clung to the ropes which held the saddle. The banks of the stream were overflowed so that we could not tell exactly the proper place to cross. My buffalo was a brave and careful animal, and must have been possessed of immense power, seeing how she carried me and dragged poor Smith over safely. I shall never forget our last crossing. We had missed the proper place to ford without our knowing it. The place we had chosen to cross was, as we afterwards found, a succession of smooth boulders and deep holes. The buffalo had to feel its way, and when in mid-stream, unluckily, set its feet on a boulder. Splash we went, all over together, into a deep hole. Ugh! how I did shiver as I sank to my neck with the buffalo submerged beneath me. As we rose again I glanced around and thought for a moment poor Smith had gone. In a moment, however, he rose to the surface of the stream, where he lay extended grasping the ropes of the saddle with one hand at arm’s-length, and gasping for breath. All the time we were being carried down stream, and bravely as the plucky buffalo struggled her feet continually slipped on the loose pebbles below. “Hold on, Smith!” I gasped, as splash we all went over another gigantic boulder, and the water surged up to my ears although on the back of the beast. I clung like a sailor in a gale. Fortunately for us the buffalo regained her footing, and clearing the current by a great effort she carried me and dragged poor old Smith up the bank Koung-wards. “That’s a narrow squeak, old boy,” I said, but Smith was too exhausted to answer as he tottered and staggered to a seat on a stone lying near. I also was glad to rest, and although thankful for our merciful escape, I could scarcely look sober as I glanced at Smith, who was as white as a ghost, and staggered like a drunken man.

“Well,” said he, when he had recovered his breath, “it’s all very well laughing, but you don’t catch me crossing in that way again.”

And in justice to his veracity I must own that I never did, for he avoided me and the beast at crossings ever afterwards. Arriving at the ford at Koung a young Dusun came and assisted Smith over, the water being very high and rising every minute. He then recrossed and led over my buffalo, who a few minutes afterwards once more regained her liberty on the green, while we, as usual, took up our quarters with “Lapayang” in his bamboo-house. He and his people were surprised at our having got across the river to-day, and pointed to where it was rushing and foaming a yard higher than its usual current. Smith lost his stick and some plants he was carrying for me, and his rifle, too, would have gone had it not been strapped to his back. No one can possibly understand the danger of these swollen torrents who has not had personal experience of them. Once off one’s feet in the surging stream, running seven or eight miles an hour at the least, one’s life would inevitably be dashed away on the boulders and jagged rocks which occur every few yards. Adventures of this kind look tame when calmly written down after all danger is past, and when read by a comfortable fireside, but they are really very real and exciting when one is undergoing them in person. A little later we were surprised by “Suong” and my “boy,” poor little “Kimjeck,” who came in looking as miserable as drowned rats. They had avoided the dangerous fords by coming along the hill-path beside the river, but my other fellows refused to come on, and took shelter from the rain in some Dusun huts midway.

“Lapayang” received us kindly, as usual, and gave us a fowl and some rice, and lent us some cooking pots. Another villager brought us eggs and a cluster of fine golden bananas—I never tasted more delicious ones—so that we dined well after all our mishaps. After dinner our host brought us in a couple of fine large tarippe fruit, just at a time when dessert was least expected; we deserved it, however, and enjoyed it accordingly. I think I never felt so fatigued before in my life, my feet and legs were sore, and the exertion of the descent yesterday, and the falls I had, made me ache all over. Added to this, my skin from head to foot was covered with irritable red eruptions, caused by a minute red parasite of acaroid nature, which my men told me came off the buffalo on which I had ridden. As we sat smoking after dinner we heard the rain falling very heavily, and it lasted most of the night. The troubles of the day are ended, and we have cause to be grateful for our preservation from its dangers.

August 20th.—It was at first very wet this morning, but an hour after sunrise it cleared up and the sun shone beautifully. Our laggards came in about eight o’clock, just as we finished our breakfast of fowl and rice. There are plenty of fine cocoanut trees here, and one can obtain fine fruit. “Kurow” overtook us here this morning, having, together with his little daughter and another girl, walked from Kiau since daybreak. They are going on to Kambatuan, he tells me, to trade, and the girls have baskets of tobacco on their backs. We bought some cocoanuts and paid our host “Lapayang.” He particularly wanted some powder and caps for his musket, and these we gave him, together with a handkerchief or two, and looking-glasses for his sisters, two fine girls, both married to young men of the village.

We started for Kambatuan after all our men had arrived, and “Kurow” accompanied us. Altogether we had a day’s rough work, two of the crossings being shoulder high and very rapid, so that only I and the buffalo could cross, and the men and Smith had to follow the windings of the river a much longer distance over rough ground, for the most part covered with coarse grasses and jungle. It rained heavily at intervals, and we did not reach the foot of Kambatuan hill much before dusk; and after half an hour’s climbing up a path like a drain, sometimes stony, sometimes of slippery yellow clay, we reached the village in a regular downpour. Nowhere else in Borneo have I seen such groves of “tarippe” trees as surround this village. When we last visited “Kina Balu” in December, “langsat” fruit was in season, and met with at nearly all the Tawaran villages. Now, in August, the “tarippe,” rich and luscious, is most abundant, and now and then a coarse brown fruit, something like a horse-mango, is obtained, and is agreeable for a change. The perfume of the ripe “tarippe” fruit was most cheering to ourselves and our men, and almost as soon as we had got off our wet garments, and put on dry ones, a dusky maiden appeared with four large fruit in her plump little arms. She was dressed À la mode Dusun, and had wire wristlets, and a heavy wire anklet an inch thick, which must have weighed two or three pounds, around her left leg. A younger child brought us some fine plump bananas, which we found to be rich and luscious as new honey, leaving an aroma in the mouth like that produced by ripe filberts and old dry port.

We had a large concourse of the villagers in to see us this evening after dinner, including “Beuhan,” the headman, who wears a head-cloth and kriss, and in general build and physiognomy resembles the Sulus much more than either Dusun or Malays. “Kurow” was the principal talker, and related all that we had done and how much he had helped us in ascending the mountain. The young girls crowded to see us, and tried hard to get speech with us. We had given the girls who brought us fruit a looking-glass each, and we could quite well understand that all were eager for a similar gift. They were very, very scantily clad; indeed the most tolerant of Lord Chamberlains might well wish to add an inch or two to their tiny petticoat, especially as ’tis the only garment of which they can boast. It answers somewhat to the American definition of a dress “which began too late and left off too soon.” Here, however, it is the customary fashion, and as such is honoured. How graceful were the figures of some of these young girls! Perfect little Amazons, lithe of limb and having regular features, eyes full of gentle expression, and a richness of raven hair most European ladies might envy. It is pleasant to know that these dusky girls, lovely as some of them are, will never be degraded to anything worse than field labour, which is a far better lot than that of their Malayan sisters along the coast, whose personal charms chance to be interesting. We found out later on in the evening that the pretty damsel who had first brought us fruit was the headman’s daughter, “Sa’ Tira” by name. Most of the evening she knelt by the fire, her dainty little fingers busily making cigarettes for her papa’s guests, many of whom had arrived from other villages near to look at us. Altogether we spent a very pleasant evening with these hospitable people, and we have no doubt but that they will long look back to our visit themselves, seeing that whole months frequently elapse without their seeing anyone from the coast even, much less a white man or two from far-off Labuan.

August 21st.—Our buffalo had wandered from her moorings during the night, and so we lost some time in finding her. She was brought in at last, however, and we prepared to start on our way. “Beuhan,” the headman here, had been very hospitable to us, first in setting aside a good clean house for us, and he also gave our men rice and fruit, as their supplies, like our own, were very small. Indeed, the fellow seemed so pleased to have us at his village, and behaved so well to us, that I felt bound to make him a fair repayment. I found out from “Suong” that “Lapayang” had told him of the musket which Mr. Veitch and myself had given to him, and that “Beuhan” wanted one too. I was glad to have the power of thus easily satisfying him. When I handed the musket to him before all his people and told him always to help the white men who came to him, he was visibly delighted, and looked at the glistening barrel and bright brass-work with rapture. I also gave him a small supply of ammunition. He had heard of my shooting down cocoanuts from the trees, both at Koung and at Kiau, and he desired me to do this at his village. Smith handed me his rifle, and luckily for my reputation, I smashed the particular nut he pointed out to atoms. Here, at this village I took leave of my old friend “Kurow,” and gave his little daughter a Chinese looking-glass, which pleased her greatly. Another little girl also from Kiau was with her, and she looked so sorry that she had not one too, although pleased at her friend’s good fortune, that I could not but hand her one also, and her dusky face was all sunshine in an instant. These two girls had walked all the way from Kiau yesterday perfectly barefoot over rough ground, rocks, streams, and jungle, carrying heavy loads, while “Kurow” carried only his slender-shafted spear. It is this hard work at an early age which so soon destroys the lithe figures and tiny hands and feet these Dusun children so often possess.

“Beuhan” sent two men with us as guides to Sineroup. This was a great gain to us, as they knew the road well, and conducted us by what I may call the “overland route,” that is, by the hill-paths, and in this way we avoided three or four of the worst crossings. We found the walking very rough and fatiguing, especially in the close gullies we had now and then to cross. About ten o’clock we reached the village of Bundoo on the opposite hill, and here, while awaiting our men, I sketched the top crags of the great mountain, of which we obtained an excellent view, and also made a sketch of some Dusun tombstones on the little village green. While waiting, a woman brought us two young cocoanuts and put them down before us, so that we might drink, which we were glad to do, as it was very hot to-day. We gave her a looking-glass, which she evidently considered a good price for her fruit. I found these Tampassuk Dusun far more inclined to be hospitable than their brethren of the Tawaran.

We passed several tiny hill villages to-day, and some of them had a neat bamboo-fence and a stile at the entrance with notched sticks for steps. Some of the houses are surrounded by luxuriant gardens, each of which contains kaladi, Indian corn, a castor-oil plant (Ricinus) or two, cotton bushes, and in each there is invariably a clump of cocoanut trees, and three or four slender-stemmed betel-nut palms, while here and there old stumps are verdant with the betel pepper, the leaves of which are chewed along with bits of betel-nut, and a few condiments, such as lime—made from coral reef or shells—and gambier. Here and there, too, the red-fruited rose-apple or jambosa was seen. We reached Sineroup about 3.30, and singularly enough have not had a drop of rain all day. “Gantang,” the Orang Kaya, was glad to see us, and pointed with pride to the new garments he wore, made from the cloth he had earned by accompanying us to Kiau.

August 22nd.—We left Sineroup and its hospitable headman this morning, after having arranged with him for a guide and another buffalo as far as Ghinambaur. We descended the hill, and after crossing the river two or three times, which was easily done now, since no rain had fallen yesterday, we were surprised by meeting a young Labuan man—whom I had formerly employed. He was a handsome young fellow named “Sallia,” a relative of poor old Musa, and from him I heard that Mr. Pretyman, accompanied by Mr. Dobree, a Ceylon coffee planter, were following, and that their object was to proceed to “Kina Balu” in search of land suitable for coffee culture. A few minutes later we met them and had luncheon together on the dry stones of an old river course. In answer to Mr. Dobree’s inquiries I told him what I had seen of the country, of the large extent either actually under cultivation by the Dusun or lying fallow as jungle, and that virgin soil in large tracts would only be obtainable by felling the primÆval forests on the enormous spurs of Kina Balu itself. We parted just as a heavy shower came on, and pursued our way to Ghinambaur, which place we reached about four o’clock, drenched to the skin and covered with mud to our waists, the roads being in a frightful state owing to the rain. We sought our old quarters, and soon made ourselves comfortable for the night. We heard that a court-house was being built here by Mr. Pretyman, but did not see it, and inquiries as to what the “white man” was going to do were numerous, as indeed they had been all along our route.

After resting, I could not resist making the accompanying sketch of the great mountain as it loomed up through the cloud strata just before sunset. We were four days’ journey from its base, and yet it seemed so very nigh to us in the last hours of sunlight as to appear only a mile or two distant through the sun-lit air of evening.

August 23rd.—We started early this morning from Ghinambaur, having a walk of fifteen miles before us over wretched roads ere we arrived at Mr. Pretyman’s residence, “Port Alfred,” on the Tampassuk. My buffalo was nearly knocked up, and so I left her in charge of the men, and I and Smith, trusting to our knowledge of the way, pushed on ahead. We had a hard day’s work a greater part of the way, floundering about in the mud of buffalo tracks, or crossing streams and creeks up to our necks, with just such a suspicion of lurking alligators being in them as made the thing exciting. I stayed at one place to collect palm-seeds, and the roots of a dwarf zingiberaceous plant, bearing pretty little white and lilac flowers. Here and there in the jungle we also saw a large amorphophallus, bearing erect spikes of red berries, and a pale-leaved variety of banana had its leaves beautifully blotched with reddish purple. In one place we had to cross a grassy plain, the mud and water being up to our waist-belts in places, and the tall coarse grasses arched over our heads so that for a mile or more one has to flounder up this grassy sewer, the effluvia from the festering mud and the heat being alike almost unbearable. We at last reached the low sandstone hills and padi fields near the Badjow village, and were glad to know that we were within a mile or two of our destination. Then came another case of floundering through a wet rice field in a drenching shower, up to the knees in unctuous black mud, remarkably warm, too, it felt to the legs and feet. After all our struggles, however, we reached the Residency about four o’clock, dirty, wet, and tired. Here we found M. Peltzer in charge, although looking very pale and ill. We found out that he was suffering from low fever and dysentery, although fortunately not in anything like its worst phases. A bath and clean dry clothes was the first thing, after which we were glad to sit and rest ourselves ere dinner time. We discovered that our friend, M. Peltzer, had formerly studied in the Horto-Agricultural College, founded by the late M. Van Houtte, at Ghent, and that he had come here to make experiments in the culture of tapioca, tobacco, and other kinds of tropical produce. He related to us an account of a journey made into the interior as far as Sineroup, in the course of which he had lost three buffaloes in the streams. Altogether we passed a very pleasant evening, glad to be so near the termination of a long, and at this time of the year, a very critical journey. The accommodation here was luxurious to what we had been accustomed to, and in spite of mosquitoes we slept the sleep of the thoroughly weary.

August 24th.—We arose soon after 5 a.m., and calling our followers, bade them prepare our boat for the homeward voyage. We ourselves looked after the welfare of our plants, and packed up our roots and seeds carefully. A party of men were sent to the sandstone hills to procure roots of the white gardenia before alluded to. At 7.50 we obtained a beautiful view of the mountain, the top crags, ridges, and water-falls being very distinct in the clear morning sunlight. I could not resist sitting down on the verandah and sketching the scene. Although my sketch was true as regards outline, nothing but colour could represent anything of the beauty of this scene—it is a subject worthy of Walton’s skill and labour. The tints of light are ever changing in the morning’s sun, and the cloud strata lie like downy pillows on the bosom of a giant. No wonder the simple Dusun, gazing on this mountain in all the radiance of its early morning glory, has idealised it as the heaven of his race!

A small herd of water-buffaloes have come down to the opposite side of the river to drink, and I was surprised to see that most of them had short stumpy tails. On inquiry I am told that the Badjows cut the tails of their riding buffaloes, otherwise they draggle in the mud and dirty water so common here, and then besprinkle the clothing of their masters. The poor beasts must feel their loss sadly in a hot country where mosquitoes and other blood-sucking flies are abundant, but as we cut our sheep’s tails short without so good a reason, we must not be the first in this case to throw a stone.

We gave all our men a rest this afternoon, which they sadly needed, for several of them were nearly exhausted. About four o’clock we were surprised at the return of Mr. Dobree and Mr. Pretyman, who had proceeded no further than the hill just above Sineroup. The Chinese cook of course received orders to augment his food supply, and we spent a very agreeable evening. Mr. Dobree showed us the skin of a young rhinoceros which he had shot in the mud pool near the Sagaliad river, about twenty miles from Sandakan. The lower horn was three inches in length, the upper one only just growing. Mr. Pretyman had also a small but very interesting collection of large coleoptera caught in the immediate neighbourhood.

August 25th.—We finished rigging up our boat this morning, and stowed all our plants and stores on board before breakfast. Four of my men, including “Suong,” who had been very useful to me, agreed to stay at this place as policemen under Mr. Pretyman. To oblige him I allowed them to do this. About 1 p.m. we stalled down the river, a much easier thing than pulling the other way. We reached the mouth in about an hour, but could not get over the bar, as there was not a foot of water on the bar; indeed we saw two native fishermen carry their little canoes over. We had to wait until 10 o’clock at night, when we got over and out to sea with a favourable breeze, but we did not reach Labuan until August 30th, since we had contrary winds, and altogether a very rough passage.

Thus ended our journey for the second time to “Kina Balu,” which occupied in all thirty-one days from Labuan, of which thirteen were occupied in the sea voyage from Labuan to the Tampassuk and back; from Tampassuk to Kiau and back thirteen; and from Kiau to the mountain and back five days. Our last journey, viz., the Tawaran from Gaya and Menkabong, occupied in all twenty-three days, but as we happened to start just at the commencement of the dry season, we avoided the dangers and difficulties of fording rapid streams. In the dry season the Tampassuk route could be accomplished in five days, and the ground is much more level than that along the Tawaran route, which is both hilly and fatiguing, the track being almost impassable for buffaloes. The difference in the time occupied by the two routes is in part accounted for in this way. Thus when I and Mr. Veitch went by the Tawaran we saved four or five days in going by chartering a passage for ourselves by a trading steamer which landed us at Gaya Bay the next morning after leaving Labuan. On our reaching Labuan, poor Smith, who had been ill in the boat for two or three days, had to go to the hospital with a very bad attack of fever, doubtless contracted during our walk from Ghinambaur to the Tampassuk. He fortunately recovered in a week’s time, but evidently had felt the effects of a difficult mountain journey. All our friends in Labuan were glad to see us back again, and the mails from home which had arrived during my absence were of the most cheering kind. Notwithstanding our rough passage I found my plants and seeds in good condition, and I am glad to know that the practical results of this journey were more encouraging than I had expected, and many of the plants and seeds obtained ultimately reached Chelsea alive. Having at this time been over a year in Borneo, I had learned a good deal of the language, and had also found much to admire in the Malays and aboriginals, so that I felt in a way loath to leave a land which had been fraught with so many novelties and adventures to me.