On the 29th of November, just as the dry season was commencing in Labuan, Mr. Peter Veitch (who had a few days before joined me after his travels in Australia and the Fiji Islands) and myself started off on a journey to Kina Balu, which we intended to reach by way of the Tawaran river. We had with us twenty-six men and two bird-hunters, so that we formed a rather imposing party of thirty, all told. The men were armed with native parangs or swords; some had krisses, and eight or ten carried muskets with which we had provided them. We embarked our men, stores, and travelling gear on board a little coast-steamer bound for Sulu, and the following morning we arrived at Pulo Gaya, and the captain lowered another boat in addition to the one we had brought with us, and put us all safely ashore near Gantisan in Gaya Bay. We waited here at a Roman Catholic Catechist’s Station for some time, and I ascended to the summit of the grass-covered hills northwards. These are forest-covered below, the nebong palm being very abundant, and attaining large dimensions.

The hill-tops above, which look so smooth and green when seen from the sea, are found to be clad with coarse “lallang” grass a yard high, among which the men who accompanied me pointed out several deer lairs. Fresh green tufts of Cheilanthes tenuifolia grew in the crevices of the decomposed sandstone, and among the clumps of nebong palm; a singular fern, SchizÆa digitata, was very plentiful.

Returning, we re-arranged our baggage, and sending our boat round to Pangeran Rau’s place at Kalombini, by sea, we and the majority of the men started over the ridge of the wooded hill on foot. It was a stiff climb in the hot sun, the path being both steep and rough. In descending to the plain on the other side we shot three large swallows and a crimson and blue-painted barbet; we were also fortunate in finding a pretty pink-flowered zingiberad in bloom. The flat plain into which we descended was partly cultivated, and the rice especially looked strong and healthy. Fine buffaloes were also grazing here.

We reached Pangeran Rau’s house at three o’clock, and had the usual bichari or talk, arm-chairs and mats being at once brought into the head-house on our arrival. Some of the women were busy pounding the rice to separate it from the husk; and one or two ran away shrieking at our approach—it was simply affectation, and not fright. We found the Pangeran rather reserved, but hospitably inclined. He was a gray-haired old fellow of over sixty, and spoke but little, asked no questions, and spent most of his time sitting cross-legged on a mat drinking tea, chewing limed “sirra” leaf and betel, or smoking long cigarettes of tobacco rolled in nipa leaf, all being brought to him from time to time by little Malay boys. The head-house was soon filled with men from the other houses, who flocked in to see us and to hear the news from Labuan of our followers. We rested a little, and then walked out to obtain a bath before dinner. Some natives directed us to a spring about half a mile off across the plain, which here, near the houses, is of sand covered with coarse sedges and scrub. We passed two or three palm-leaf cottages on our way; and here I noticed the first implement of agriculture I saw in Borneo. It was a wooden harrow; and a native seeing me interested in it, pointed to a rude iron-shod plough which hung in a large mango tree near one of the huts.

A good many of the people who live here are Badjows or “sea gipsies,” so called from their habit of wandering about from place to place in boats, in which they seem more thoroughly at home than in the wretched huts they now and then build on shore. They are essentially lazy, and will not walk a yard if they can get a buffalo or anything having four legs to carry them. We saw two Badjow boys going to the spring for water, and they both rode on a buffalo calf, which seemed used to its mischievous load. We returned to dinner at dusk, and managed to get a good night’s rest here, as the houses were cool, being built over the water, and the mosquitoes were not nearly so bloodthirsty as usual.

Our boat did not come round until nearly ten the following morning. We had been up since sunrise, and had our breakfast; so, when our craft appeared, we borrowed a boat and a couple of men from the Pangeran, and left for the Badjow village on the Menkabong. We reached that place about noon in a drenching shower, and our guides assured us that further progress that day was impossible. We therefore had our things brought up into the head-house and soon made ourselves comfortable. We had brought two dozen fine pomoloes with us from Labuan, and the ripe ones were now really excellent in flavour; and we thoroughly enjoyed this delicious fruit for dessert after a frugal luncheon of bread and dried fish. About four o’clock the rain ceased, and the sun shone beautifully, so we took our guns, and went ashore for an hour to shoot. We secured a few pigeons and other birds, returning to dinner at sunset. Mr. Veitch lost his watch among the long grass, but was fortunate enough to find it on retracing his steps.

We arose at day-break the following morning, and started off, reaching the market-place on the Tamparulie plain about seven o’clock. A large market of fruit, fish, vegetables, rice, and other native produce, was being held, and on landing we met with the Datu in whose village we had remained last night. We told him the object of our presence in his territory, and found him agreeable, although not nearly so dignified as Pangeran Rau. He sent off one of his men to fetch us some fruit, and he soon returned with a basket of fine langsat, in return for which we gave him a couple of pomoloes, and we afterwards smoked a cigar together while our men unloaded the boats. We tried to hire two or three men from him; but as he was very extortionate in his demands as to payment for them and a buffalo-sledge which we wished to load with rice for our men, we cut the matter short by refusing his assistance at any price. We sent back the Pangeran’s boat, and giving our men as much rice each as they could carry, we returned the rest to the other boat and left two men in charge until our return. I am inclined to think his greed was excited by seeing the cloth and goods we had as the men unloaded the boat.

We now found out the value of the man “Musa,” whom we had engaged to superintend our men. He was an old man, but still powerful and active, and he possessed the secret of persuasion to the utmost degree. Under his direction the men were all loaded equally, and to their individual satisfaction, and we set off towards Tamparulie. We saw a pretty white-flowered cucurbit growing over bushes here and there, and bearing spindle-shaped fruits of a scarlet colour and about two inches long. Here and there also the red-berried spikes of an amorphophallus were seen among the tall grass. I and Veitch shouldered our guns, and pushed on across a low grassy plain inhabited for the time by a few black water buffaloes, and then came a long march in single file across a series of wet rice or padi fields, the paths through which were scarcely a foot broad, very uneven, and being of pure clay, the last night’s rain had made them as slippery as wet soap. We who had only our guns to carry found it rather hard work floundering about on the greasy tracks; but the men were in good spirits, and a march of about two hours brought us to the Tawaran, close to the village of Tamparulie which stands on its banks.

The plain we had just traversed was well cultivated, and very fertile, rice, bananas, cocoa-nut trees, and other vegetation being most luxuriant. Buffaloes were employed to draw the rude ploughs through the rich, moist earth. We saw immense flocks of white “padi birds,” and here and there a crane, majestically stalking among the crops. At our halting-place the river is very shallow, its high banks being fringed with groves of cocoa-nuts and bananas; and in one or two places I noted neatly-fenced and well-kept gardens descending nearly to the water’s edge. In these were sweet potatoes, cucumbers, maize, and “kaladi,” or Caladium esculentum. The women seemed to be the principal cultivators of these little plots, and we could see them at work among the garden crops here and there as we passed along.

Here we noticed a lovely palm for the first time—a caryota—having dark green plumose foliage, the pinnÆ abruptly jagged, and notched along its margins. As we partook of our luncheon, an intelligent old native came along, and sent our men to his garden, which he pointed out to us, for some green cocoa-nuts, so that we obtained a delicious draught, which we found very refreshing after our hot walk. He was very talkative, and begged a little brandy; and he also gladly accepted the seeds of a fine pomolo (Citrus decumana), to plant in his garden. We did not cross the stream here, but plunged on beside the river, following a narrow, muddy buffalo track, which in places resembled a tunnel, being completely embowered with tall grasses, bound together with large convolvuli and other creeping and climbing plants.

A heavy walk of a couple of hours brought us to the first group of Dusun houses, which stood on a bit of rising ground close beside the stream, being surrounded by a grove of cocoa-nut palms and other fruit-trees. We stayed here to rest our followers, and while waiting shot several birds on the surrounding trees. Let not the gentle reader blame us for wanton destruction! There was “method in our madness;” we did not “kill for sport,” but only for the advancement of learning, or for food.

About half a mile beyond we came to a fording-place in the stream, and descending the slippery clay banks, we crossed the river, which in places reached up to our waists; and in one place the current was rather too strong to be pleasant. Beaching the other side, our way lay along an abandoned bed of the stream for some distance. The old shingly bed was in some places quite thickly covered with Celosia argentea, forming compact little bushes, two feet high, every branchlet terminated by a rose-tipped spike of silvery bracts, forming, as seen here, a very pretty object.

We reached the Dusan village of Bawang (bawang, in the Dusun dialect = river) about four o’clock, after fording a creek up to our necks, and indeed we were both tired and hungry. We took refuge in a house, which stood on the bank, quite close to the river, and our men soon had several fires ablaze on the pebbly beach below. We pulled off our wet things, and enjoyed a bath in the bubbling stream, and then a nice rub, dry and clean clothes, made us quite comfortable by dinner time. “Bongsur,” one of the bird hunters, brought in two or three very pretty birds here; and Mr. Veitch added a black, red-bellied squirrel (“basing”) to our collection.

We slept the sleep of the weary; and the following morning pushed on up the slope beyond the village. The shady jungle through which we passed ere we began to ascend was thickly carpeted with selaginellas, S. Wallichii being especially luxuriant. S. caulescens drooped from the moist rocks here and there very gracefully. We found the climbing rather arduous work, and but for the shade of the overhanging bamboo, which grows here plentifully, we should have fared worse.

On reaching the crest of the hill, an altitude of say 800 feet, we got along better. At this height we found our first nepenthes, a pretty green-pitchered form, swollen below, and having a broad, flattened red rim to its mouth (N. Phyllamphora). We rested an hour on the top, but could procure no water, excepting a few drops from the cut end of a climbing plant, which the natives call “kalobit,” and of which they sometimes form rough cordage, by rending it into long strips. The juice of this plant is intensely bitter; but the water which distilled itself slowly from the cut end was quite pure and tasteless.

We ascended about 1500 feet to-day, and the views from the summit of the range between Bawang and Si Nilau were very satisfying, all the intervening country to the sea being plainly visible, as well as the whole coast-line, as far as Gaya Bay. We walked along quicker than usual, for the sky became very black, and it was evident that we should soon have a drenching shower. Our guides had forgotten the way to Si Nilau, and so there was nothing for it but to push on, in the hopes of meeting with a shelter by the way.

At length we suddenly came upon the site of a deserted village, and took shelter in a hut—a little better in repair than the rest—while from the trees near both langsat fruit and cocoa-nuts were procurable. Here we waited until the rain abated, when we took up our quarters in the house of a Dusun man, near the site of the old village, which had, as we afterwards heard, been deserted on account of the death of the headman.

We had previously met our Dusun landlord about two miles from this village, in some patches of rice and gourds, but he had been too frightened to answer our inquiries as to the route, and rushed down the hill just as the first few drops—big, heavy, solitary drops—fell from the black rain-clouds over head. Fortunately, I had struck the right road a few yards further on, and followed it up, when in turning a rocky corner, where two roads merged into one, I came across the man again face to face. He was so surprised at my sudden reappearance, that he fairly shook with terror, and he rushed down the rocky ledge, which served as a path around the hill-top, with the speed of a startled deer. I had yelled after him to stop, but he ran all the faster; and when afterwards we entered his house, our men had a little trouble to reassure him that we meant him no harm.

We soon put the old boy at his ease, however; and then a fowl for our dinner was caught and killed. For this and the fruit we had stolen we paid him a fathom and a half of grey shirting, with which he was very pleased. His house was a very neat one, having a large public room in front, with a stove, hearth, or fire-place opposite the door, and two little sleeping rooms behind. Like all Dusun houses the floor was elevated four feet from the ground, level on piles, so that the pigs and fowls had shelter beneath. The side walls and floors were of bamboo, beaten or pressed out flat, like boards, and being of a clear, yellow colour, they had a warm and comfortable appearance as the fire glowed on the hearth, above which was a rack for the storage of fire-wood, or on which clothes could be dried.

After dinner we lit our lamp, and made ourselves as cosy as possible over our post-prandial cigar, after which we were not loath to turn in. Up by daybreak, and snatching our morning meal, we were soon en route for Kalawat Peak, and thence we descended to Kalawat village by a rocky mountain-path, fringed with bamboos, large ginger-worts, and ferns of various kinds.

A strong growing species of bauhinia was very showy here, overrunning the branches of bushes and low trees beside the path, and bearing its pale, yellow flowers in large clusters very profusely. As seen at a distance it has a pleasing effect in the landscape—a rare thing with Bornean flowers; and a nearer sight of it is suggestive of our native woodbine.

Selaginellas were plentiful near the streams, and near the crest of the Peak (alt. 2000 feet) we saw a dainty little bertolonia, rarely exceeding two inches in height, having pearly-spotted leaves, and terminal clusters of rosy-pink flowers. A stately habited nephrodium, with gracefully arching light-green fronds, nearly a yard long, a zingiberad, with richly barred foliage (Alpinia sp.), two or three species of gleichenia, and now and then an inconspicuous epiphyte, orchid, or fern occurred, to add variety to our route.

We were puzzled to-day by seeing horizontal bamboo-stems fixed in the trees over our path, but we eventually discovered that they were intended to serve as bridges or paths to rats or other animals, traps being set to catch those who were unwary enough to avail themselves of the convenient crossing.

A curious custom of the Dusun is to entrap and eat the common field rats, wild cats, &c., of the country. Beside all the little paths through the forest, near Kina Balu, wooden rat-traps (see Fig.) are set in the herbage through which the animals have made their tracks. A form of this trap, slightly modified, is hung on the branches of trees for the capture of squirrels and other fruit-eating rodents. I asked Kurow how long the Dusun had eaten rats? His reply was that, “Once upon a time,” a horde of rats, far more than ever followed the ‘Pied Piper,’ I should judge by his adjectives, came and ate up all the rice and kaladi. A conference was held by the then reigning chief in the head house, and his advice was of the stern, practical kind. “Talking is of no use,” said he; “the rats have eaten all our rice: we have no other food left to us; ergo, we must eat up the rats!” “And so it was, and is to this day,” said Kurow; but I fancied I could see a sly twinkle in his bright eyes—just the same merry twinkle one expects to see in anyone’s face, after having related a palpably improbable story with all due solemnity!

We pass several very pretty little rills, at which drinking or washing was facilitated by spouts, made of the leaf-stalk of the sago palm, and placed so as to conduct the cool sparkling water on a level with one’s face. Flourishing rice and kaladi fields became more plentiful; and the tree ferns, which we had first sighted after leaving Si Nilau, now became more numerous. Just ere we reached Kalawat, we noticed some splendid specimens in the jungle; and now and then even out in the clearings their great crowns of fresh green plumose fronds being fully exposed to the sun, and in some cases borne aloft on slender black trunks, 20 feet or more in height. At the village of Kalawat the houses are in one place backed by an immense grove of these feathery plumed tall tree ferns, above which the white stemmed betel-nut palm towers aloft, its dark green foliage and pendent clusters of bright orange fruit standing out clear and bright against the cool blue sky.

At Kalawat we rested awhile. The straggling dwellings were built on piles over the muddy ground, and a few ill-fed black pigs were rooting up turf in all directions in quest of food. Here, for the first time, along this route, we were pleased to see tame bees hived in sections of hollow tree trunks, about two feet in length, the top and bottom being stopped up, and a hole burnt in the centre as an entrance for the busy workers. In one or two cases separate little huts were erected especially for the bees, but as a rule the hives were placed on a board beneath the overhanging eaves of the houses. The kind of bee kept is very small, much smaller than that common in England, and I was struck at the peculiar manner in which they wriggled their bodies simultaneously as they congregated in groups on the hive near the entrance. These tame bees, as well as their wild brethren, who nest in the tall forest trees, make but little honey in proportion to that of our northern kinds, and are especially kept for the wax they yield, this being used occasionally by the natives in the form of rude candles, and it is also an article of export from Borneo.

Being in advance of our followers we waited here an hour. It is a singular trait of the Borneans to show no curiosity when strangers pass through their villages. We sat here on a rock for some considerable time, and yet, not even the children came out to look at us. Two men sitting outside on a verandah, basket-making, and an old woman, were all the inhabitants we saw, but doubtless many a pair of bright eyes watched us secretly through the cracks of the bamboo houses. As it came on to rain, however, we entered one of the houses, in which were seven or eight young men and several women. We tried to get some fruit here, but the langsat were not ripe, and cocoa-nuts were scarce owing to the flowering stems being cut off and the exuding sap collected in a bamboo vessel to be made into toddy, a drink of which the hill villagers are very fond. At last a couple of young nuts were forthcoming, and a dash of brandy in each gave us a most refreshing draught. As the rain ceased, we decided to proceed to Bungol, the next village along our route. To this one of our guides, Pangeran Raman of Labuan,—an artful old sweep—loudly objected, urging that the Tawaran would be flooded—that we should not reach Bungol at all that night, as it would be dark long ere we could do so—adding, that there was no intervening resting-place. I was used to these excuses, and determined to go on, to which Mr. Veitch also agreed. Our guides, who had come here from Si Nilau, refused to go further, nor would any of the Kalawat people go to Bungol with us as guides, but at last one of them pointed out the right road for us to take, and I and Mr. Veitch set out along the rocky path alone. We rested on the hill above the village, and then Pangeran Raman and our two servants, or “boys,” joined us, and said the men refused to come on. This did not deter us, and we plunged down the hill-path and through one or two clearings, in which sweet potatoes, maize, and tobacco grew luxuriantly. Then down a greasy clay path, embowered with bamboos, tall canes and jungle, until at last the Tawaran was reached in the valley below, rushing and boiling among the smooth boulders in its bed.

We sat on the banks of the stream to rest. Here a pretty little palm about a yard high formed strong tufts and patches, its roots being laved by the stream below. Its pinnate leaves were graceful, and had a distinct grassy appearance. Draping trees close by the river we also found a species of vanilla in bloom. It had large waxy flowers of a creamy white colour, the lip having a five-lobed hairy crest of a dark purple-brown colour. As many as twenty buds were counted in a cluster, but the flowers expanded one at a time. We crossed the river, which nowhere exceeded our knees in height, and pushed on up the next hill. The mist was gathering thick and white in the valleys, and it began to rain in torrents. In a very few minutes the path up the hill-side became a brook, and the rain beat in our faces so that we could scarcely see our way. Added to this inconvenience was the thought that we might not be in the right track, and of this our worthy “guide,” Pangeran Raman, could tell us nothing. He was a very good fair-weather traveller, and the biggest man in our party when all was well around a good camp fire! At a pinch, when most wanted, he was perfectly useless—indeed, in the way. I am afraid I did not pity him as he stood shivering in the cold, and begging piteously of us to return to a miserable little hut beside the river for the night. This was out of the question, as we had not a dry thread on us and no food, so I pushed up the hill to reconnoitre. Just at the top I met a Dusun man who had come from Bungol, and who was going to Kalawat, and when Mr. Veitch and the old Pangeran came up, we induced the native to return with us to Bungol. We now felt more at ease, and splashed down the hill-side merrily, and after crossing the Tawaran four times, in one place nearly to our necks, we reached the cocoanut-crested hill on which the village of Bungol stands. Our “boys” had lagged behind and only reached the houses just before night-fall, having been mainly guided by the accidental discharge of our guns, which we had let off in order to dry them soon after our arrival. Our guide had brought us to his own house, and we soon had a good fire, and took off our wet clothes, after which we sat by the fire clad in native sarongs which our host lent us. We soon wrung out our clothes, and hung them on a beam over the blazing fire to dry, and then came the question of dinner. At last we procured a fowl and a bowl of rice, and my Chinese “boy,” Kimjeck, who was a good cook, soon had these on the fire.

After it was dark we heard shouting, and soon after six of our men who carried the food, clothes, and sleeping gear came in, being afraid, as they said, that we should want food. We were soon all as jolly as sandboys. The fowl was cut up and boiled with a tin of julienne soup and three or four chilies, and this and a nice white bowl of steaming rice formed a dish which to us, tired and hungry as we were, seemed “fit for a king.” A cup of chocolate and a cigar followed by way of dessert, and all our troubles for the time being vanished in smoke! We paid our guide a fathom of grey shirting, and gave him a looking-glass for our night’s lodging. The fowl and a couple of cocoanuts also were paid for with a fathom of shirting, and everybody was thus easily satisfied.

Having only a sleeping-rug each, we found it rather chilly, and I could not sleep well. I rose about 11 o’clock, however, and made up a good fire, and then lay down beside it and slept well until daybreak. We had breakfasted in the morning and were outside ready to start, when our laggards of yesterday came in, and they looked sheepish and crestfallen when they found that we were really about to start on and had not intended to have awaited their coming. Two Dusun men now accompanied us as guides, and after crossing the Tawaran several times, we mounted the hill to the left, crossing the ridge and descending towards Koung. The way to the village was down rocky gutters seemingly worn by heavy rains, and the hill-side paths in the kaladi gardens were very bad to traverse, and we were thoroughly tired out ere we reached the grassy flat on which Koung is built, indeed, this was the most toilsome day’s work we had hitherto had, although, perhaps, our long tramp yesterday had something to do with its being so.

We found the Koung people peaceably inclined, although we did not forget that it was here that Mr. Low and St. John had some difficulty with the natives the first time they came this way. We slept well, and in the morning after breakfast we retraced our steps by the river to examine a scarlet flower which we had seen from the opposite bank yesterday. It turned out to be Bauhinia Kochiana, or an allied species. Mr. Veitch shot a fine white-headed hawk, which was on the look out for a breakfast of fresh fish from the river. We also secured several other birds we had not before seen. The red-fruited Rubus rosÆfolius was very pretty here among the rocks, and we observed one or two orchids of interest on the trees overhanging the stream. The river is very pretty as it passes the village, and as the water comes from the hills above, it is deliciously clear and cool, quite a luxury, in fact, either for drinking or bathing. We enjoyed our morning ramble, and on returning to the house wherein we had slept we found all the men ready to start for Kiau. On our crossing the ford at the end of the village we met a large party of natives laden with baskets of tobacco and a little beeswax, going on a trading expedition. There were some women among them, who, of course, carried the heaviest loads. Several of the men were tattooed on the breast and arms, and all were armed with brass-handled parongs and slender-shafted spears. They showed no surprise at seeing us, and passed on apparently unconcerned as to our object. Our way now lay up the valley, first on the right and then on the left of the river, but there was no great difficulty in crossing, the water being rarely as high as the hips. We passed huts here and there, and irrigated patches of rice. Maize and sweet potatoes grew around the houses, and almost all had a clump of big-leaved bananas near the door. The rice land was irrigated by a ditch cut from the river, a little dam being made so as to direct the water into it as required. We noticed several fish-traps set in the river to-day. These are made of a bamboo stem six feet long, split lengthwise and made into a long basket-like shape with rattans, so that it is wide at top and narrow at the other end. In order to set them effectively, an oblique dam of stones and earth is made so as to direct a large body of water through an aperture, and in this the basket is placed. A fish once washed into it has no chance of escape, and large quantities are caught at times, especially after the river is freshened by rains. Occasionally we saw men or women working on the rice-land, and I was very much struck at the care taken in planting and cultivating the crop, not a weed being anywhere visible in the rice-patches. The planting was extremely regular, each tuft or stool being about eight inches from its neighbours, so that all obtained their due amount of earth, light, and air, a lesson indeed for some of our own cultivators of cereals here at home.

We passed immense clumps of bamboo, the feathery wands rising in masses to a height of fifty or sixty feet. From one of these clumps our men secured some of the young crowns, which are white and tender, and by no means despisable as a vegetable when boiled with salt. At Bawang I had noticed them eating boiled fern-tops with their rice, and on asking for a little I was surprised at its delicate spinach-like flavour. We met a boy at one of the crossings with a basket of fine langsat fruit, some of which we purchased, giving him a Chinese looking-glass in exchange.

At length, crossing the river for the last time, we rested in the shade of a huge sandstone rock for a luncheon of cold rice and fruit. Our path then lay to the left through low jungle, and on one or two of the old remaining trees we noticed masses of Grammatophyllum speciosum with stems eight feet in length—each plant a good cartload, and evidently in the most luxuriant health, with foliage fresh and green, although fully exposed to the hot sun. Coelogynes were plentiful on the lower trees and rocks by the river. One sandstone boulder was entirely covered with Davallia ciliata, and some fine tall grasses grew among the pebbles of the old river bed. The rocks bordering the river are of sandstone, and yet at Koung and along our route to-day we continually met with boulders of granite sometimes in the present river bed, sometimes on the old dry bed, and sometimes, as on the green Koung, immense pieces, a hundred tons weight, lie isolated on the plain. Half an hour’s walk from our resting-place by the river brought us to the clearings and the hill or dry rice-fields of the Kiau villagers. The crop was ripening fast, and the whole hill-side, as well as the one opposite beyond the river, looked very flourishing. Here and there were green patches of kaladi, and around the field-huts of bamboo, cucumbers clustered, and sweet potatoes, maize, and occasionally bananas, looked prosperous. We followed a narrow footpath through the rice, which was kept from injury by a little fence of bamboo, and in places the earth was prevented from washing down by a few large stones laid in line. We reached the village about two o’clock, the journey from Koung having taken us about five hours. The people here did seem to feel more interest than ordinary, and we soon had a tolerably good audience around us. One by one our followers came in, and we soon availed ourselves of the comfort of a rub over with a towel and dry clothes, after which we arranged the various plants collected during the day, and continued our journals. “Bongsur” brought in a fine brown owl and a pretty scarlet bird with black wing-tips, neither of which we had seen before. For dinner we had boiled fowl and rice, followed by coffee and a cigarette of native tobacco wrapped in maize-husk. We lay on our mats and rugs at one end of the large public room, all our men being cooking and jabbering away to their hearts’ content, the Babel of sounds, partly Malay and partly Dusun, being deafening. Tobacco was brought in for sale soon after our arrival, and one man brought a fowl, but as he asked double its value we refused to buy it.

The greatest interest was shown in all we did, more especially by the boys and young girls who crowded on the pathway just in front of where we lay. When we extinguished our lamp and turned into our blankets they soon became quiet, the people of the house retiring to their private apartments, and the others to their houses in the village. It was a wet night, and we felt chilly, but slept well. Our first task after breakfast in the morning was to overhaul all our stores, arranging those we wanted on the mountain so that they could be easily carried, and packing the rest so that they could be left with safety. Our stock of rice was so low that we were rather alarmed, but “Musa” assured us that he should be able to buy some in the village. After re-arranging all our things, we took our guns and walked over the hill. We saw very few birds, nor were the plants we discovered of any particular interest, with the exception of a large white-flowered arundina, having a rich amethyst-coloured lip. We saw some immense ginger-worts, having leafy stems ten or twelve feet in height; also large ferns of the angiopteris type, while Mikania volubilis overran the bushes along our route.

Returning to the house, we engaged Boloung and Kurow, the acting head men of the village, and six of their followers, to take us up the mountain on the morrow. “Musa” and Pangeran Raman did most of the bargaining on our side, and at length concluded the matter by paying over the amount of cloth and brass wire as agreed. Next morning we selected sixteen of our men and started for the mountain. In a rich bit of shady forest on the other side of the Kiau ridge we found the evergreen Calanthe macroloba, bearing spikes of white flowers much larger individually than those of C. veratrifolia. A foliage plant marked with silvery blotches above and crimson beneath was also collected. Our road was a rough and tiring one of sloping hill-side paths very wet and slippery, and in places blocked by fallen trees. About one o’clock we reached a rushing stream, and our guides brought us to a large overhanging rock, where they said we must pass the night. It now began to rain heavily, so we at once told the men to cut sticks and palm-leaves to lay on the ground where we were to sleep, and over which we could spread our waterproof sheets and rugs. This was soon done, and meanwhile our “boys” prepared luncheon. We were disgusted at stopping thus early in the day, and wished our guides to proceed when the rain abated, which however they determinedly refused to do. To make the best of a bad bargain, I and Mr. Veitch explored the forest above our camp, where we found a pretty aroid with white blotched leaves, and another marbled with silvery grey; also a variegated plant resembling an anÆctochilus, but which Professor Reichenbach tells me is the Cystorchis variegata of Blume. This plant I had previously gathered in another locality further south; indeed, it seems pretty generally distributed along the north-west coast. Specimens of two or three delicate filmy ferns were found near the streams; and at our camping-place, which we named the “Sleeping Rock,” the pretty little Adiantum diaphanum was plentiful, and living plants were brought to England from this habitat.

About seven o’clock next morning we started on our upward journey. It was hot work at first, but we could feel it perceptibly get cooler after the first two or three thousand feet. At about four thousand feet mosses are very plentiful, the finest species gathered being Dawsonia superba, which fringed the path, but nowhere in great plenty. A new white-flowered species of burmannia was also gathered, and small-flowered orchids were seen. In one place a shower of small scarlet rhododendron flowers covered the ground at our feet, the plant being epiphytal in the trees overhead. It was very misty, and the moss which covered every rotten stick, and the vegetation generally, was dripping with moisture, and every sapling we grasped in climbing upwards was the means of shaking a shower-bath on us from the trees above. At about five thousand feet a dead and broken pitcher of Nepenthes Lowi lying in the path led to the discovery of the plant itself scrambling among the mossy branches overhead, its singular flagon-shaped ascidia hanging from the point of every leaf. It is a vigorous-habited plant, with bright green leathery leaves, the petioles of which clasp the stem in a peculiar manner. The only plants we saw were epiphytal on mossy trunks and branches, and we searched for young plants diligently, but without success. All the pitchers hitherto seen are cauline ones, and as the plant has never yet been seen in a young state, it is an open question as to whether the radical pitchers differ in shape or size, as is the case with most other species. As we ascended higher, epiphytal orchids, especially erias, dendrochilia, and coelogynes became more plentiful, and we came upon a large-flowered rhododendron, bearing rich orange flowers two inches in diameter, and twenty flowers in a cluster! It grew on a dangerous declivity, and not one of our lazy men would venture to get it for us. Such a prize, however, was too lovely to forego, and after a wet scramble among the surrounding bushes, I secured it in good condition. Two or three other species were seen in flower, but none equal to it in its golden beauty. Casuarina trees became common, and higher up these were joined by two or three species of gleichenias, and a distinct form of dipteris. Phyllocladus also appeared, and a glaucus-leaved dianella (D. javanica). Here also were two of the most distinct of all rhododendrons, R. ericifolium and R. stenophyllum. On open spaces among rocks and sedges, the giant Nepenthes Rajah began to appear, the plants being of all sizes, and in the most luxuriant health and beauty. The soil in which they grew was a stiff yellow loam, surfaced with sandstone-grit, and around the larger plants a good deal of rich humus and leaf dÉbris had collected. The long red-pitchered N. Edwardsiana was seen in two places. This plant, like N. Lowii, is epiphytal in its perfect state, and is of a slender rambling habit. Highest of all in the great nepenthes zone came N. villosa, a beautiful plant, having rounded pitchers of the softest pink colour, with a crimson frilled orifice, similar to that of N. Edwardsiana. All thoughts of fatigue and discomfort vanished as we gazed on these living wonders of the Bornean Andes! Here, on this cloud-girt mountain side, were vegetable treasures which Imperial Kew had longed for in vain. Discovered by Mr. Low in 1851, dried specimens had been transmitted by him to Europe, and Dr. (now Sir Joseph) Hooker had described and illustrated them in the Transactions of the LinnÆan Society, but all attempts to introduce them alive into European gardens had failed. To see these plants in all their health and vigour was a sensation I shall never forget—one of those which we experience but rarely in a whole lifetime!

We reached the cave (altitude 9,000 feet) about three o’clock, wet and hungry, but far from unhappy. Our first care was to light a fire, which was not at all easy to do, since everything was dripping wet. We secured a bit of dry wood at last, however, and by whittling thin shavings from it with a knife, we managed to start a good fire, and some of the men were directed to cut firewood; but so paralysed were they by the wet and cold, that it was with the greatest difficulty that we could persuade them to do this. Poor old “Musa” cut some wood and made a floor to the cave, after which some brushwood and leaves formed a substitute for a mattress. The next difficulty was to obtain water, since the men we had sent to search for it returned empty handed, having failed to find any. As a last resort I had to undertake this duty myself, and, descending the hill-side, I found a tiny pool in a gully, from which I procured a little in our cook-pots. It was not near enough, however; and in wandering in search of more, I came upon a patch of the large nepenthes, from the old pitchers of which I was able to augment my supply by carefully pouring off the rain water from a rather liberal under stratum of flies, ants, and other insect dÉbris. Our guides slept under a rock a little further on and higher up the mountain side, and they found a stream from which good water was procured by our men in the morning and during our stay here.

It commenced to rain heavily at nightfall, and we found it very cold, although we kept a good fire burning nearly all night, one of the results being that we were nearly blinded by the smoke, there being a draught towards an opening at the hinder part of the cave. The wet dripped from the roof all night, and the walls were also wet and slimy; indeed our quarters were neither extensive nor luxurious; still we made the best of them, and, after all, were rather sorry to leave them at last. We arose at daybreak to collect plants and roots, in the which we were tolerably successful; and before night we had secured all our collections in baskets and bundles ready for the men to carry down. It was very cool and misty in the morning, but about noon it became clearer, and it was hot indeed, the rocks and old trunks reeked in the sunshine. A slender-growing species of calamus was very common in the low forest below the cave, and it supplied “rattans” of excellent quality for tying up our plants. At least three showy species of coelogyne grow on the rocks and mossy banks here, at 9,000 feet elevation; and a dainty little plant with reddish pseudo-bulbs in clusters, each bearing a single spathulate dark green leaf, is common. This last has erect spikes of pure white flowers and buds, reminding one of the lily of the valley in cool, fresh purity, an effect partly due to its column being of a soft green tint, like a speck in the interior of the blossom. The coelogynes are very distinct and beautiful as seen here blooming among the coarse sedges and shrubs. One has white flowers with a blotch of gold on the lip, eight or ten of its waxy flowers being borne on an erect scape. Another has yellow sepals and petals, and a white lip corrugated with brown warts. Another, not so showy, has a nodding spike of white and brown flowers.

We ascended about 9,000 feet, and were delighted with the charming views obtainable during clear weather. The whole upper portion of the mountain along the south and south-eastern slopes is nearly devoid of vegetation, except where there are streams and rather sheltered gullies up which the stunted trees and a few other plants struggle up near to the summit. On the north-western side the rocks rise very precipitous; and here vegetation fails to gain foothold. Looking upwards in the early sunlight, we had clear views of the shelving granite slopes, on which are numerous shallow channels down which streams of water pour during misty and rainy weather. When we gained the top of the great spur the morning after our arrival at the cave, we were delighted at the immense panorama which lay at our feet as we looked back. Looking away south-west we beheld the coast-line from the mouth of what our guides said was the Tampassuk river right down to Gaya Bay and Pulo Tiga, which was distinctly visible, the many-mouthed Menkabong river glistening like a silver net quite close to the coast-line.

Looking south-east over a billowy sea of silvery clouds we saw a gigantic range of mountains, and from this the conical peak of Tilong rises through strata after strata of cloud, or stands out on a clear blue background of pure sky, according to the state of the atmosphere. This claims our interest as the beacon of a land unknown; and this magnificent peak, Tilong, is by repute as high, or even higher, than Kina Balu itself. Altogether we spent three days on the sides of Kina Balu collecting plants, flowers, and seeds; and after a life on the plains and among the coast mountains—hills compared with this grisly giant—we found the climate most deliciously cool and invigorating. Rain generally commenced about 3 P.M., and continued until eight, the remainder of the night being clear, bright if moonlight, and cool—so cool, indeed, as to make a good camp fire and woollen shirts two or three-fold and blankets very desirable. The mornings were generally misty, every leaf and branch dripping with the rain and heavy dews common here at night, especially during the wet season. About noon the sun was warm, and the temperature at 9,000 feet rises to 75° if the day is fine and dry.

As I have elsewhere said, our Malay followers suffered much from what to them was bitter cold; indeed they seemed perfectly helpless, with scarcely energy to make a fire and cook their food. They have no notion of actively bestirring themselves in order to keep warm. Our food supply, too,—that is, the rice—ran short, and so the men were reduced to live on kaladi and sweet potatoes roasted in the embers and eaten with a little salt. Our Dusan guides also complained of the cold, and tried to hurry us in our descent; indeed at last they would wait no longer, and they slipped away, leaving us to reach their village alone as best we could. We were fully determined not to be defeated in our object, however, and keeping ahead of our own men we descended leisurely so as to gather plants by the way, until all had as much as they could possibly carry down. I carried my servant’s load in order that he might carry a lot of rare specimens which I had secured for him in a handkerchief. The descent after the rain of the night before was difficult and dangerous, and we had a good many falls. Once I fell down a steep place a depth of about twenty feet, among shrubs and creepers, which saved me from serious injury. Mr. Veitch and myself, my “boy,” and a solitary Labuan man, went on a-head of our main party, and just at nightfall discovered that we had lost our way. The right path lay across a clearing down which we turned instead of pushing across and striking the path beyond.

We floundered along in the gloaming down several dangerous steeps and across a rocky stream, in crossing which I stepped incautiously on a slippery water-worn boulder, and became thoroughly submerged in the water, which being from the heights above is icy cold, at least it seems so after one has been used to the heat of the tropics. This increased my discomfort, and poor Mr. Veitch was but little better. Here we were at dark lost and benighted beside the rocky declivities of this mountain stream; but there was no help for it; and after vainly trying to strike a path, we gave up at the base of a large tree, and putting down our burdens, we resolved to pass the night here. To mend matters, it commenced to rain heavily about seven o’clock, and I am afraid we were not so happy as the mere possession of health and strength ought to have made us. We had no food except a couple of wet biscuits and about half a glass of brandy in a flask. These we shared, and perhaps they were sweeter than the choicest viands would have tasted had we been in dress clothes and in comfortable quarters. Then Mr. Veitch had a great find in his bag—a couple of cigars and a box of matches. Sitting in the smoking-room of a comfortable club, or in the billiard-room at home, one may smile at such a discovery; but, situated as we were, cold and wet, a cigar added much to our comfort. Our two followers tried to make a little shelter from the rain for themselves, but failed miserably.

About ten o’clock the rain ceased, and we then tried to improve our position; for hitherto all we could do was to walk about around a large tree—a distance of a few yards only; for in the darkness we knew not what ugly falls might not await us if we strayed from our wretched camping-ground, which was wet and spongy under foot; and the leeches crawled up our legs and bled us to their hearts’ content. We noticed luminous fungi on the rotten sticks at our feet glowing quite brightly, and the effect was weird and ghostly in the extreme. My “boy,” quite by accident, had placed a couple of dry flannel shirts, a pair of trowsers, and a blanket, in the other man’s basket, and so, after the rain ceased, I was able to put on a dry warm shirt and trowsers, a luxury I had not expected, and also to give Mr. Veitch a dry shirt and a share of my rug. We now sat down on some brushwood, and leaning back against the tree, fell asleep, and we did not wake until near sunrise. Thus ended one of the most dreary nights I ever spent in the Bornean woods.

In the morning we retraced our steps across the rocky stream, and soon struck the right path for Kiau, but we had not gone far before we met “Kurow,” the chief of our runaway guides, in a great state of excitement, coming in search of us. He brought us some fine langsat fruit in his bag—presumably a peace offering—and seemed rather surprised that we did not chide him for his desertion of the day before. As we arrived nearer the village we came across our men, armed with muskets, also in search of us, and the hilltop was covered with Kiau people, who appeared greatly concerned, and doubtless glad to see us safe and well.

When we reached the house, everybody seemed glad to see our safe return, and sweet potatoes, maize, rice, and kaladi, were readily brought in by the villagers for ourselves and our men. “Musa” and the rest of our followers had arrived at Kiau soon after dark the night before. One man brought a basket of excellent langsat fruit, and a woman gave us two beautiful oranges from a tree near her door. They were quite yellow, with tender skins and sweet pulp, similar to those of the south of Europe, not green skinned, with tough desepiments, as are those of Labuan. I was much surprised at the oranges having grass-green skins when perfectly ripe in Singapore, and even the brittle skinned Mandarin variety had this peculiarity.

Our guide, “Kurow,” was twitted pretty much by his neighbours for having left us the day before, and at last he retired to his house evidently not well pleased with himself, and, I believe, not a little surprised at our treating the matter so lightly.

We went out to a shady spot near the house to examine our plants and see that they were in good order, and we then rested all day. We were not altogether satisfied with our trip to the mountain, and resolved to start off to it again in the morning, but this time taking another path so as to reach the “Marie Parie” spur. We sent off for “Kurow,” and, telling him our intentions, asked him to collect his followers and be in readiness to accompany us. The poor fellow was delighted at this sign of our confidence in him, and helped us zealously, enduring cold, rain, and waiting—to him meaningless, weary waiting—without a murmur. In the morning we crossed the hill behind the village, and fording the “Haya-Haya,” “Dahombang,” “Pino-Kok,” and “Kina Takie” streams, we reached the foot of the “Marie Parie” spur.

Now came a climb up a rocky pathway, besides which we noticed fine plants of Cypripedium Petreianum, Cystorchis variegata, and a lovely yellow flowered terrestrial orchid belonging to the genus Spathoglottis, but quite distinct from S. aurea. As we ascended, our path lay up through a belt of tall bamboos, and here two species of nepenthes were seen. One was the long, green pitchered kind, covered with purple blotches (N. Boschiana var. Lowii), and the other a tall growing species, bearing beautiful white pitchers, elegantly ewer-shaped, diaphanous like “egg shell” porcelain, and most daintily blotched with reddish crimson in a way quite unlike any other variety. This grew on both sides of the path, and climbed the trees to a height of forty or fifty feet. We reached the crest of the ridge about three o’clock, in a heavy drenching shower, the climate being similar to that of a warm autumn evening in a Devonshire wood. We slept under some overhanging rocks at an elevation of about 4,000 feet, having an under stratum of sticks and brushwood to keep our water-proof sheets off the wet ground. The air, even at this low elevation, was chilly during the night, and we found a fire and blankets acceptable comforts. Melastoma macrocarpa, bearing its large, rosy flowers, formed a large proportion of the brush around our camping ground. Here the large nepenthes were very fine; and a beautiful white flowered dendrobium grows among the bushes. It belongs to the nigro hirsute section, and has pseudo-bulbs five or six feet high. The blossoms are described by Mr. Low as being similar to those of D. formosum giganteum, but with a deep orange red blotch on the lip.

Just above our camping ground, the long, red, pitchered Nepenthes Edwardsiana was very beautiful, growing up through the low jungle, its pitchers contrasting with the tufts of rich green moss which draped trunks and branches everywhere. N. Rajah was also abundant; and we noticed some immense urns depending from its great broad leaves, far finer, indeed, than those found at 9,000 feet elevation, on the more southern spur. That distinct and curious fern, Lindsaya Jamesonioides, grew here and there in the chinks of the serpentine rock, and a long-leaved insect-catching sundew (Drosera) was common in most places among the stones and herbage.

After collecting what plants we desired, we had breakfast, and then commenced our return. We reached Kiau in about five hours, but some of our men did not come in until long after our arrival, as they had heavy loads to carry, and the clay paths were very slippery. At Kiau village, and on the slopes of the mountain itself, we spent eight days, and then came the weary march back to Gaya Bay, which, however, we accomplished in six days. When we reached the Datu’s village, he gave us a fine goat, which our “boys” promptly slew for dinner, and, being young, it had a delicate mutton-like flavour, and we thought it a great treat after our hard fare.

A present of a revolver and some cartridges delighted our host; and the next morning, having obtained another boat, and loaded the one we had, we pulled to Pangeran Rau’s place, where we hired a prahu, and two days afterwards reached Labuan safely.

During our journey to and from the mountain, we met occasional parties of natives from the far interior on their trading excursions, the women, as a matter of course, carrying the heaviest loads, while the men carried nothing, save a little food in a bag behind them, and their arms. Some had buffaloes with them. The women, as a class, are strong and healthy, with small hands and feet, and well-proportioned features—indeed, in many cases, the young girls are very pleasing in face and figure, and have lovely black hair, and the brightest of expressive black eyes. Early marriages, childbearing, hard labour, and exposure in the fields, however, soon make shrivelled leather-skinned old hags of them. Their drapery is nothing worth mentioning, and in such a climate but little is required. Their manners are gentle and dignified—often when we met them quite suddenly they showed no surprise, even though they had never seen a white man before. They make affectionate wives, and tender mothers—indeed, I never saw a child beaten or chided roughly during my stay in the island.

In the capital and elsewhere on the coast, young Malay women are almost invariably kept secluded from the gaze of strangers; but here among these hills inland, as elsewhere among the aboriginals proper, we found the women enjoying perfect freedom with the men.

While staying at these villages, all the women and girls flocked to see us, and watched us eat and drink with evident interest. The young girls were especially confident, and formed laughing groups around us, chatting to each other in low, modulated tones, and evidently comparing notes on their observations. They frequently brought us little presents of fruit, and eggs, or fowls, and were delighted with the needles and thread, looking-glasses, and white cloth which we gave them in return. Some of the younger girls were much handsomer than the Malays, and stood lovingly together as they quizzed us, often resting their plump little arms or their cheeks on each other’s necks or shoulders as they watched our every movement.

Looking-glasses were considered fashionable at the time of our visit, and we could have disposed of many more with advantage had we had them with us. Combs were not so desirable, since these are made by their husbands or sweethearts; and they are often very prettily decorated with carved work.

Some of the men seem “thoroughly domesticated,” and I saw them affectionately nursing their naked little babies at night, or in the daytime, while mamma had gone to the field for food, or the forest for fuel. I particularly noticed the younger married men standing behind their nice little wives at night when we were at dinner. They folded their brown arms around their necks, and whispered loving gossip into their ears, evidently well contented with themselves and with each other; and, perhaps, their love is as real and as ardent and as true here as it is in high places where dress clothes are worn. The farther one travels, the more plainly does one see how deep rooted and how world-wide are all the springs of human feeling, whether of love and joy, or death and sadness; in every land and in every breast is written the great truth, “One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.”

One night after dinner a bevy of dusky beauties had gathered around our mats, and to afford some amusement, I showed them several carte de visite portraits of friends which I had with me. They were particularly interested in that of one lady, and examined it very attentively; not a bead or button escaped their quick eyes; but they soon began asking questions. Was she married? How many children had she? Was she a good wife? I asked what they meant by the last question. “Well,” they answered, “did she bring plenty of firewood and kaladi in? and could she clean padi (rice) well?” Thus a woman among these thrifty villagers earns her good name as a wife by her capacity for physical labour. This is also so among other savage races. The Indian girls on the north-west coast of North America in like manner endeavour to excel each other in the quantity of quamash (Camassia esculenta) roots they collect, their fame as future good wives depending on their activity in the Quamash plains. They were much interested in all particulars of dress as shown by the carte; but one girl regretted the absence of rattan coils around the stomach and “chawats” of thick brass wire on the wrists, and more to the like effect, all from the Kiau standpoint—for Kiau and its simple fashions are held to be inviolable. Kiau is all the world to them!

The morning we left, I believe all were sorry to part with us, and they came to the top of the hill to see us off. On loading our men, we found that we had four men’s loads of plants more than our men could carry, and so we engaged some of the Kiau villagers to carry them for us as far as Bawang. We had a good deal of talking, and a grand display of red cloth and brass wire on the hillside, but eventually “Musa” concluded the bargain, and paid over the goods in advance, as is the general custom here.

After receiving the goods, they coolly told us they should not go on with us, as we walked very slow, but that they would start next day, adding, that they should reach Bawang before we did. We showed no signs of wishing otherwise, but passed on with our followers, after having told the Kiau men to water the plants well as they crossed the streams, and to protect them from the sun by means of large leaves, all of which they did; and when we reached Bawang, there, sure enough, were our plants, all safe and in good condition.

After reaching Labuan, both Mr. Veitch and myself had bad attacks of intermittent fever, the result of chilling exposure in wet clothes, and ill-cooked food, accompanied by more than ordinary exertions. Fortunately our long and difficult journey had been interrupted by nothing serious, and we were glad to see our native followers safe home again. Certainly one of them had a nasty fall from a rocky path near Bawang and cut his head badly, but he was a plucky Brunei man, and soon overgot his trouble. Another of our fellows who had been trusted with a musket tried to fire it off after he had blocked up the barrel by pushing it into the ground accidentally! He succeeded in exploding the thing, and one of the fragments cut open his forehead, while another piece struck one of the bird-hunters on the arm. No serious damage was done. The road from Gaya Bay to Koung is so hilly and difficult for loaded men to traverse, that I determined that if ever I went to Kina Balu again I would take the Tampassuk route. This I did on a subsequent occasion, but during the wet season, when fording, the swollen rivers presented great difficulties and dangers. During the dry season, or say, in January or February, this route would be by far the best to follow.