It was now the end of July, and I had been waiting four or five days, expecting the arrival of the steam-ship Far East, in which I had hoped to have again taken a passage, with my friend, Captain W.C. Cowie; but as his vessel was now overdue, and my own time was limited, I resolved to leave in a native boat at all hazards. I soon chartered a prahu, large enough to carry twenty men, and our stores; and on July 31st I was ready to start. I had given my Chinese “boy,” Kimjeck, and the men orders to have all in readiness; but when I reached the little jetty, at two P.M., I found only half the men there, the remainder being as busy as bees on shore, running in and out of the Chinese shops, buying betel-nut, salt, dried fish, onions, and other private stores for the voyage. As soon as they saw me, however, they came running down, and we all went on board. Altogether our craft was heavily laden; but as these native boats are generally carefully built, we saw nothing to fear.

At 3.30 we bade our friends, who had kindly come down to see us start, “good-bye;” and, amid the cries of “Salaamat jelan!” from the men’s friends on shore, we hove anchor, and sheered off with a tolerably good wind. We soon got our large mat-sail hauled up, and with the Union Jack astern (we carried the “mails” for Tampassuk by the way), glided out of the harbour, and, rounding the old flagstaff-point, steered nearly due north. We did this, intending to stand out, and make “Pulo Tiga,” an island lying about forty miles northward of Labuan, by the morning. In this, however, we were doomed to disappointment; for after an hour or two of indifferent sailing, a bit of a squall arose, and the wind having changed, we hove in shore, towards Lumbedan, intending to anchor under the shelter of a little islet of the same name for the night, and start away in the early morning.

This was now the only judicious course left us, since we were close in-shore, on a dangerous coast, and the squall of wind and rain was coming down on us like a hurricane. Our men pulled in around the island, and were approaching the shore, to enable us to land, when the boat rose a little on the surf, and the next moment her bows came down on a rock, and this knocked a large hole in her bottom. We subsequently found out that all her lower timbers were rotten. Happily we were not far from the land, and could make ashore, or the consequences might have been serious. As it was we suffered enough, being drenched with rain and surf; and as the boat rolled about, and filled rapidly, most of our things got drenched likewise. As is usual with Malays on such occasions, there was a great deal of excitement, and everybody shouted orders or instructions to his neighbour.

However, Smith, an excellent fellow Mr. Boosie had allowed to accompany me, and one or two natives, handed out our clothes and personal effects, which others carried ashore, after which we got out the bags of rice, and other stores all safely, and having emptied the craft of all her loose gear, we hauled her up on the smooth sandy beach, and then, as it was getting dusk, set about preparing ourselves a habitation for the night. Some of the men were sent to cut firewood, others to cut timbers for our hut; others went to search for water, while my “boy,” hastily securing a few dry sticks, lighted a fire, and began preparing our evening meal.

We had with us plenty of the common “kajang” mats, which may be purchased in Labuan for a few pence each, and serve admirably for roofing boats, or the little jungle-houses, for which a Malay will cut and fix timbers in a few minutes. We had also a good oil-cloth, twelve feet square; and in less than an hour after our shipwreck we had a roomy tent erected in which to eat and sleep. We soon got on some dry clothes, and then had our bedding placed at one end, with our baggage piled up behind, and at the other end our rice and dried fish, goods for barter with the natives, and other stores, were arranged. The guns, rifle, and the tower-muskets, carried by the men, together with our revolvers, &c., were cleaned, and oiled, and suspended overhead; and the lamp being lighted, and hung in the centre, we began to look quite cheerful.

We had our dinner about seven o’clock, and then a smoke and a chat over our misadventure. Several men came over from the opposite coast of Lumbedan, where there are a few native houses, to look at us; and I asked them to bring over a boat in the morning, which they very civilly promised to do. About nine o’clock we sought our blankets, and turned in for the night, and slept well, notwithstanding our recent mishap.

August 1st.—We were all astir by daybreak this morning; and, after having had our customary cup of coffee and dry toast, we set our followers to work to spread out the wet rice on mats in the sun, and to rearrange all our stores. Some of the men were sent to cut down “nebong” palms, the young tops of which form a delicious vegetable when boiled, and others were employed in cleaning our arms, cutting fire-wood, and other necessary work. While this was going on, I took my gun, and went out on a stroll around our little island. The vegetation I found was rather dense, and the whole surface rocky. I noticed several species of palms, and an epiphytal fern or two, and plants of the white-flowered Dendrobium crumenatum hung here and there on the trees.

I shot two of the beautiful white island pigeon (Carpophaga bicolor), called “Pragam pulo” by the natives, and a larger species, of an ash colour (C. Ænea), the wings and neck being shot with purple and bronze tints. This is a very large and handsome bird, common in Borneo, and when cooked, is very good eating. On my return to the tent I found the man from the coast had brought over his boat, as promised, and I at once sent it off, with eleven of my men, with a letter to Mr. A. Boosie, the manager of the coal mines in Labuan, asking him to lend me one of his boats, in which to continue my journey.

It is a lovely day to-day, and our rice and clothes are getting dry again. “Kimjeck,” after he had done his work this morning, started off on a collecting excursion, and has just returned, with a couple of broad-tailed, dusky-coloured rock-snakes, one a very fine specimen. Beetles and butterflies, he tells me, are alike unobtainable, and he can find no flowers, so that we can do no collecting on the island. Knowing that it will be night at the earliest ere our own men can possibly return with the boat, I and Smith went over to Lumbedan with some natives, who had come in a boat to look at us, and had a walk in the tall forest, which forms a back-ground to the houses near the shore. Here we found the “nebong” palm attaining to a large size; and some woodcutters promised to cut us a few young tops by the time of our return.

This forest, although originally rich in plants, like that of Labuan, has suffered severely during recent years from the now ever recurring jungle-fires of the dry monsoon. We could find nothing of interest. A large-leaved crinum grows in the sand by the shore; and a scarlet-flowered ixora with narrow foliage, was blooming here and there in patches. We shot a long-tailed paroquet, and a blue kingfisher, the only birds we saw, and retraced our steps to the village just before sunset. We were thoroughly tired, and rested here some time, watching the young Kadyans playing at football on the beach. The players stand in a circle, three or four yards in diameter, and the ball is kicked in the air by the player to whom it falls nearest. To do this properly requires great dexterity, as the ball is struck with the sole of the foot; and a party of good players will thus keep a ball in the air for several minutes by each kicking it upwards just as it is about to fall. The ball itself is a light hollow one, of rattan open-work, about the size of an ordinary cricket-ball; and the game closely resembles shuttlecock, as played in China.

Having obtained our palm-tops, we purchased some eggs, cucumbers, and fine ripe water-melons from the woodcutters, whom we had passed in the forest in the morning, and then waded across to our quarters on the island, which we could now do, as it was low water. It was becoming dusk, and we were glad to throw ourselves down on our rugs, and rest a little before we ate our frugal repast. During our absence my “boy” has “tidied up” the tent, and it now looks quite cosy and comfortable, being dry and sheltered, although on two sides the sea washes up to within a few feet of us at high water. The soft yellow mats are pleasantly enlivened with our rugs and scarlet blankets, the rifle-barrels glisten above our heads, and the smoke curls gracefully upwards from our cooking-fires on the beach. Just as it was dark we heard our men shouting; and soon after six of them came in with the borrowed prahu, and told us that their companions were following them in the large boat, which Mr. Boosie had kindly lent to us. This was good news; and we ate our dinner in high spirits. In about an hour’s time the men came in with the boat, and we hauled her up high and dry on the sandy shore before retiring for the night. With the boat I was cheered by letters from several of my friends in Labuan, all of whom were sorry to hear of our disaster.

August 2nd.—A lovely morning. We were up before daybreak, and soon had our boat launched, and all our goods and stores safely stowed away, ready for starting. About seven o’clock we got away, with a good breeze behind us, and then we took our breakfast in a little deck-cabin, which our men had cleverly rigged up for us with a few crooked sticks, tied firmly with rattans, and covered with kajang mats, thus forming a capital shelter from sun and rain. Not feeling very well, I lay down, and fell asleep, but was soon awakened by a consternation among the men, and much shouting. A refractory fish was the cause of all the noise, the steersman having hooked him; but the fish was large, and objected to come on board. After much trouble they hauled in their capture, and a fine fellow it was, fully thirty pounds weight.

We were very comfortable in our new craft, which sailed well; and although the wind slackened considerably about noon, we reached Pulo Tiga before sunset, and went ashore to cook our dinner and lay in a fresh stock of firewood and water. Half-a-dozen fires were soon alight, and we took our guns, and went for a walk, but failed to get a shot. We caught sight of some large hornbills; they were, however, too wary to allow us within range.

This island is a large one, without any inhabitants, except now and then a few Chinese woodcutters, or native fishermen. Native boats from Sulu or Palawan frequently call for wood and water; and the remains of numerous fires occur among the drift wood along the beach. Wild pigs are very plentiful, and turtle are also found here. From a distance the island is seen to consist of three rounded hills, covered with forest; hence its native name “tiga,” or “teega,” signifying three in the Malay language. We returned to dinner with hearty appetites, and thoroughly enjoyed a portion of the fish we had captured in the morning. My “boy,” who acted as cook, had forgotten to inquire how he should prepare it; and so, to make sure, he had divided our share, boiling one-half, and the other he cleverly roasted over the clean embers of a wood-fire.

Hungry as we were, salmon from an Irish stream, cooked fresh over a fire of strawberry-tree wood (Arbutus), could not have tasted more delicious. The wind had now completely died away, and the current setting in strong against us, we anchored in a sheltered bay until the morning.

August 3rd.—Awoke about three A.M., and finding a fresh breeze springing up, we aroused our men, and got up sail. In about an hour, however, the wind dropped, and the men had to take to their paddles. We had a nice view of the coast just after sunrise, and we also saw Kina Balu very distinctly. We had changeable winds all day, but managed to reach Gaya Bay about five o’clock; and, as wind and current were now against us, and the men were tired with paddling most of the day, we went ashore on one of the islands to cook, and resolved to remain here all night, or until a favourable breeze sprang up, which we might expect at any time after sunset. Here, as at Pulo Tiga, the beach is sandy, and is fringed with tall casuarina trees, through which the winds sigh as mournfully as they do through the leaves of a pine forest here at home.

The broad-leaved pandan (Pandanus dubius) is common here, having a tall, cylindrical trunk, like a cocoa-nut palm, and bearing a branched crown of dark-green leaves. Here also we could obtain plenty of nebong tops; and on waste patches, near the shore, Tacca pinnatifida grew abundantly. This plant is interesting, as affording a kind of starch, much used as food by the South Sea Islanders, but not valued here, where rice is plentiful. Here we found plenty of the large blue pigeon; and although they were very wild, we managed to shoot two or three; and these, with the fresh palm-tops, were a great gain to our culinary department.

August 4th.—Again a beautiful sunrise. We pulled from under the lee of the island about six o’clock, and stood out on our course, with a slight breeze. Off the mouth of the Menkabong river we came upon a tiny fleet of native boats, the owners of which were fishing with hook and line. We found out that they were some of Pangeran Rau’s people, a chief who holds the country around Qualla Menkabong, and at whose house I had stayed on a former journey into the interior. We were glad to purchase some freshly-caught fish from these people, which we afterwards enjoyed for breakfast. Fried in a little pure oil, and sprinkled with a little oatmeal, they were very nice. Palm-tops boiled formed a delicate vegetable accompaniment to them.

We are five days out to-day; and as our bread, which we of course brought with us, is beginning to turn mouldy, my “boy” has dipped each of the remaining little loaves in water, and is busy baking it afresh on a tin plate over the embers. Treated in this way, our old bread is really very nice; indeed, not a bad substitute for hot rolls.

One of our men had a line out astern all the morning as usual, but never perceived a nibble until about 1.30 P.M., when there was a sudden commotion, owing to his being nearly jerked out of the boat by a large fish, which had taken his bait. The fish was fairly hooked, but the men had a good deal of trouble to haul him in. He was a splendid capture, fully fifty pounds or more in weight; and it took two men all their time to lift him into the boat, even after a spear had been driven through him. We all admired him very much as he lay on deck; indeed, half a hundred weight of good fresh fish would be welcome anywhere. It was of a variety, called “Linko” by the Malays, and in general appearance reminded one of a fine salmon.

A little later in the day another kind, about half the size of the last, was caught, this being called “Tingerie.” We reached the mouth of the Abai about 5.30 P.M., and tried hard to make the mouth of the Tampassuk ere dark, in which we failed; and after being tossed about for an hour in vainly endeavouring to get over the bar, our men were glad to pull back to a little island, near Qualla Abai, where we could land to cook, and anchor for the night. It was a lovely, moonlight night, and very quiet in our snug little anchorage. We dined and slept on board, and so escaped the myriads of mosquitoes on the grassy shore.

August 5th.—Awoke at sunrise, the air being deliriously fresh and cool, and the sky clear. We were glad to get a very good view of Kina Balu this morning, the long rocky ridge standing out first purple, and then blue, against the sky, while fleecy masses of silvery clouds were ever changing their position on its rugged sides.

After a delicious bath in a little fresh-water pool near the shore, and breakfast, we pulled to the Qualla Tampassuk, and found a strong current coming over the bar. Our men pulled over, however, all right; and then came a good five hours’ pull up the river before we reached the old quarters of Rajah Muda, now occupied by Mr. Pretyman, who had come to live here a month or two ago, and for whom we had brought on the mails from Labuan. The whole distance from the bar is only about five miles; but the river winds much: and, as it was the wet season, a deal of water coming from the ranges inland had swelled the river beyond its usual limits, and the men had to pull against a heavy stream.

The vegetation of the banks is luxuriant; and after pulling a mile or two, native dwellings, and cultivated patches of bananas, cocoa-nut trees, tapioca, maize, and other products appear. We reached Mr. Pretyman’s residence about 1.30 P.M., and found him and his people tolerably well in health and spirits. He was surprised and pleased at our unexpected visit, and promptly ordered his men to kill a fine young bullock for ourselves and men. After luncheon we crossed the river and walked to the top of the adjacent coast-hills, from whence a good view of the winding stream and surrounding country is obtainable. These bare grassy hills rise out of the plain, which serves as pasturage for a few buffaloes, and here and there patches are irrigated for rice culture. I made a small collection of the herbaceous plants, annuals, and grasses of the hill we ascended; and on the top we found a round-headed tree, which bore edible fruits, remarkably like walnuts in form and flavour.

In descending, we came across plants of a very lovely gardenia, forming bushes, varying from a foot to two feet in height, and bearing large white flowers in the axils of its glossy leaves. A gentle spring-like shower was falling in the last rays of sunlight, and the perfume of this dainty flower was most balmy and delicious, quite unlike the odour of any other plant I ever saw. On my return from the mountain I was careful to secure plants of this species, and they reached London quite safely three months afterwards. As it was now dusk we returned to dinner, and spent a very pleasant evening, talking over home news, and our plans for reaching Kina Balu.

August 6th.—We were up at sunrise and set to work in packing our stores into suitable parcels for each man to carry, and we hired two buffaloes so as to be able to carry an extra supply of rice. These details took time, and it was fully noon ere we bade our host farewell and were fairly started on our journey. Our guide and buffalo driver was an intelligent Malay, named Abdul Rathman, who knew the country well. Our first stopping place was to have been Ghinambaur, but as we were late in starting we failed to reach that village before dark, and had to stay at some Dusun huts by the way. At first our way lay through the plain, and here the roads, or rather tracks, through the tall coarse grass were frequently knee deep in mud and water; then we crossed some low hills of red sandstone which were nearly destitute of herbage, owing to the earth being washed off the rock by heavy rains. In places the tracks over these hills were more like drains than anything, and during a heavy shower the water rushes down these water-worn runnels carrying every atom of soil or pulverised rock into the plains below, so that these last consist of a rich alluvial deposit, well adapted for rice and tapioca culture.

On the second range of these low hills is a Badjow village, most of the houses being much exposed, without a tree or any kind of shelter. The rain came down in torrents as we passed this place, and some of our Labuan men took shelter from the cold rain and wind which was indeed very piercing. We had to cross some rice fields, in one of which a man was ploughing. The plough was of wood, shaped something like an old English plough in the beam, but with only one handle, and no coulter, wheel, or share-board. This was drawn by a solitary water buffalo, and rooted up the greasy black earth to a depth of five or six inches. At one side of the field we saw a rude harrow formed of bamboo stems lashed together, the side shoots being cut at about six inches from the stem, and these act as prongs to scarify the soil. The whole system of land culture here is very rude, and yet it is far in advance of that practised by natives anywhere else in Borneo, if we except the plain near the banks of the Tawaran river, a few miles further to the south. Passing the last group of Badjow houses we came to the river again and found it running rather high, the water being much discoloured by the earthy matter washed down from the hills during rains. This was the beginning of difficulties, for we had to unload the buffaloes in order to prevent our rice from being wetted, and then we rode them across, while the men carried the packages on their heads, and held on by the saddle-gear or tails of the animals. After piloting across one detachment in this way we returned for the others, and so managed to get all the men over safely, and keep the goods dry. Our road got worse and worse, now through tall coarse grasses which, arching overhead, nearly excluded daylight, then through bits of forest where one’s face was in danger from overhanging boughs and creepers, crossing dirty streamlets, and clambering over roots and stones, while in places the path suddenly dropped downwards into a sort of slimy trough or drain, the sides of which were as high as the saddle, and down which one’s buffalo slided rather than walked. Of course we were drenched to the skin, and our clothes, which were nice and white at starting, were covered with mud, but there was nothing for it but to keep on, which we did until nightfall, when, finding it impossible to reach the village of Ghinambaur, we “put up” at some field huts, and in the absence of mosquitoes, passed a comfortable night on the floor of one of the huts warmed by a cheerful wood fire.

August 7th.—Arose at 5 A.M. and took breakfast. We had simmered a piece of beef in a pot over the fire all night with onions, two or three chilies, a bit of fresh ginger, and just a handful of rice for thickening, and the result was a very palatable soup; boiled beef and biscuit completed our meal. We “squared up” with our landlord by paying a fathom of grey shirting and two black Chinese looking-glasses for our house (which we had all to ourselves), firewood, and a nice young fowl for our dinner. About six o’clock I mounted my steed, and a ride of about two hours brought us to the luxuriant fruit groves which surround Ghinambaur. We found a scattered village close beside the river, each house having its own clump of cocoa-nut and other fruit trees. A mottled-leaved alpinia was common beside our route, and a pretty climbing plant with opposite leaves, each bearing a thunbergia-like white flower, was not unfrequently observed among the grass and low shrubs. A rynchospermum and two species of mussÆnda were very conspicuous. One of the last-named was a bushy plant two to four feet in height, bearing bright orange-scarlet flowers among its dark glossy foliage, each flower being set off by a pure white bract nearly as large as one’s hand. As seen among the grass this plant was very distinct and effective. Its congener is a climbing species not nearly so showy.

We rested in a Dusun house for an hour awaiting our stragglers, two of whom were sick. Whilst waiting we spread out our rice to dry, as it had become damp, doubtless owing to the drenching rain of yesterday. Our hostess was a rather attractive Dusun girl, whose husband was away on a hunting excursion. She was very obliging, and seemed quite pleased at our visit. The house was small but very neat and clean, having, moreover, an air of comfort about it not often seen in Dusun dwellings. Among other goods we noticed netting needles of wood, similar in principle to our own, together with excellent fishing nets, weaving instruments, by means of which a strong and durable cloth is made from the macerated fibre of a species of curculigo called “lamba” by the natives. This is afterwards dyed with native grown indigo. Water bottles of bamboo, sieves and fans of different kinds used in cleaning rice, well made baskets of rattan-cane, knives and choppers were also represented, and we especially noted an excellent adze lashed to its shaft by neat rattan work. This implement is used in cutting and trimming planks from the large forest trees, saws being unknown here. I noticed a small basket of true cotton of excellent staple, but it is not much used, “lamba” fibre being obtainable in any quantity from the jungle without any trouble, and its fibre is more readily worked with the help of rude implements. For sewing thread we found our hostess using the fibre of pine-apple leaves (Ananassa sativa), which serves the purpose well. This plant must have been introduced to Borneo many years ago, for it has become thoroughly naturalised, apparently wild, indeed, and not even jungle fires seem able to destroy it. In the Philippine Islands the plant is common, although the dainty manufactures of “pina” fibre formerly made there are now to a great extent discontinued. As examples of skilful handweaving, these “pina” fabrics are even superior to the celebrated hats of Panama, and a dress made in the best manner would cost from a hundred to three hundred guineas.

The villagers who accompanied the “Orang Kaya,” or headman, on his visit to us a short time after our arrival, were very much interested in our firearms, and begged of me to “shoot something.” To please them, I took a chance shot with a Snider rifle belonging to Smith, and brought down a couple of cocoa-nuts which hung on a tree about one hundred yards off. There was a general rush to pick up the fallen nuts, and the blackened place where the ball had struck was examined with much astonishment.

We now marshalled our followers and again made a start on our way. We found the roads awfully wet and slippery, and in about half an hour’s time it rained in torrents, and the river being now so swollen and turbulent that there was no hope of our being able to cross it to-day we had to pull up at a little village called Buramhangan. The house where we stayed was about one hundred feet above the river, which we could hear rushing and roaring all night. We were soon surrounded by the villagers, most of them young people, and remarkably handsome. The men, especially, had very regular features, dark expressive eyes, and their jet black hair when free from the loose coil in which it is generally worn hung down as low as the waist in lustrous masses which a woman might envy. They appeared to be very thrifty, and had abundance of poultry, swine, and buffaloes. Their manufactures seem to be cloth, baskets, hats, and mats of various kinds, together with fishing nets (made in exactly the same manner as our own), and household utensils of bamboo and cocoanut shells.

August 8th.—We awoke just before sunrise. A lovely morning, and the river has fallen much during the night. We tried to hire another buffalo from these people, but as they would not come to terms quickly we had to push on without it, having fully made up our minds to reach the village of Sineroup ere nightfall. Our path lay up the hill for about half a mile, and then we bore down hill to the left. The path was like a drain, and awfully dirty. Smith’s buffalo made a bit of a start, and its girths being loose he and the baggage toppled over into the long grass and brushwood beside the path. A little further on I had the same luck, although fortunately for the rice and sleeping-gear which my beast carried it happened in a dry place. The roads were very bad, and also the fords, but we plodded steadily onwards, and by four o’clock P.M. we climbed the hill and were safe at Sineroup. The last ford but one was rather turbulent, and our men being a long way behind we did not wait for them, and they did not get in until night-fall. We stayed here in the headman’s house, and found him a jolly fellow with a striking Chinese physiognomy and vivacious manner. He and his family gave us a hearty welcome, spread mats for us on a little raised platform near the window, and gave us a fowl and some rice, so that we had satisfied our hunger before our men arrived.

We were now fairly into the country of the “Dusun,” or “Piasau Id’an,” the meaning of this last literally being “Cocoanut Villagers.” Generally they are a clean-skinned and handsome race, far superior to their neighbours the “Muruts,” who live farther south, and whose land-culture is but indifferent. So far as I could learn, polygamy is not practised by these aboriginals, and they always appear contented and happy. The dwellings which, near the coast, are generally of “atap,” or thatch made from the leaves of the “nipa” palm (Nipa fruticans), are here nearly entirely of bamboo, the roof being thatched with “atap” of cocoanut or the sago palm. Here at Sineroup the headman has a very clean and convenient bamboo-house, and a good deal of wealth in the shape of brass gongs, large ornamental water-jars, cooking pots of brass and earthenware, finely worked mats, &c., while half a dozen sturdy buffaloes are contentedly grazing on the green below the house. Of pigs, poultry, and domesticated bees, he has plenty. I had placed my dirty boots outside the house on a little verandah, and during the night they were either knocked down by visitors or else fell through below the house. When I asked my boy for them in the morning, we found that the pigs had eaten up all but the soles. Luckily I had others, or the loss would have been one of the worst that could have befallen me, since in all long foot journeys, and especially in mountain climbing, good boots are of the first importance.

In the tarippe trees (Artocarpus Blumei) here, we noticed very ingenious traps of bamboo, set to catch the “basing,” a sort of squirrel or tree-climbing rodent, which plays havoc with this delicious fruit just as it approaches maturity. At this village our guide thus far, Abdul Rathman, is to return, so we have engaged the headman here, “Gantang,” to accompany us on our next two days’ journey as far as Kiau, which is the last village on the way to the mountain. The scarcity of birds and animals is very marked as we proceed inland. One reason for this may possibly be the absence of virgin forest, nearly all the country bordering on the Tampassuk river having been by some means—possibly former cultivation, aided by jungle fires—stripped of all its primÆval forest.

August 9th.—We were up at daybreak, and at once ate our breakfast. As usual, we had to await the coming of our guides, and it was fully nine o’clock ere we got fairly started. I notice that many of the natives here wear semi-circular betel-boxes tied around them, and charms are very commonly worn. These last are seemingly of the most varied description, anything seems to do for a charm—shells, teeth, and bones of animals, seeds, stones, and bits of rock, tiny bells, and especially a kind of fossil wood called “kayu lagundi,” or, “tree of youth.” These are enclosed in the folds of an old kerchief and are tied around the body. Great confidence is felt by the wearers of certain good charms, and they are very popular among the Sulu pirates, who will fight like demons, believing themselves to be invulnerable. All the villagers had come down to see us start, and they followed us down to the river, which is not far from the houses. Rain during the night had caused the current to run strong and high, and none of our men dare venture across. We had a rope for such emergencies, and my interpreter, a lusty Badjow, named Suong, swam across and tied it fast to a tree. It was now easy for our men to cross, and we all got over safely. A little higher up we had to recross again, but the current here was stronger, and all the goods had to be carried across by our Dusun followers, who had accompanied “Gantang,” the headman of Sineroup. Fortunately nobody was drowned, but the time occupied in crossing was so long and we were all so tired with our exertions that we were glad to stay at a wayside village instead of going on to Kambatuan as we had desired. We saw a good many attractive plants to-day, but unfortunately the dangerous difficulties of our journey left us but little time for collecting. And yet, although hungry and fatigued to a degree which no one can imagine who has not travelled in a tropical land without roads or bridges, one could but feel enthusiasm as ferns of filmy beauty, orchids of curious structure and vivid colours, graceful glumales, flowering shrubs and palms, met our eager eyes for the first time.

One of my first “finds” this morning was a singular bolbophyllum, which grew on the branch of a tree over a stream, and which, as I had from the first suspected, has turned out to be “quite new.” It has been named, in gratitude to the Hon. P. Leys, M.B., Colonial Surgeon of Labuan, B. Leysianum, Rchb. f. Its structure is so very extraordinary that nothing but an engraving could give any adequate idea of its characteristics. A creamy flowered dendrobium (D. cerinum, Rchb. f.), grew on trees here and there, bearing its flowers in clusters, and a dwarf cymbidium (C. Spinksianum, Rchb. f.), was also met with in bloom, as also was a white-blossomed ixora, bearing pendulous compound clusters of fragrant blossoms. A curious strong-growing vanilla draped trees in most places, and on some wet mossy rocks beside a rushing torrent, a glossy-leaved phalÆnopsis (P. luteola) displayed its golden blossoms, each sepal and petal mottled with cinnabar. Coelogynes were everywhere abundant on trees and rocks alike, and on the latter overhanging the streams hung masses of a waxy-leaved Æschynanthus, bearing axillary clusters of crimson, black-striped flowers, each standing erect from a gracefully modelled purple chalice. Ferns and mosses hung on the dripping river rocks in glorious profusion. Numerous, indeed, were fair Flora’s temptations to lingering dalliance on our way, but we had an ulterior object in this journey which nothing must interfere with. Our mission was to push onward, letting nothing hinder our march—difficulties and inclinations must alike be conquered if we would that our journey be crowned with success!

Kambatuan reached, wet and fagged, we were glad of a change of clothing, preceded by a brisk rub with a dry towel, ere we thought of food. Our guides had selected a roomy house, and we soon had a cheerful wood fire ablaze on the hearth, which, as is usual here, was in the centre of the large public apartment occupied by ourselves and our retainers. A fowl and some eggs were soon purchased, and our whilom host was very hospitable, having spread some nicely-worked mats near the fire, and instructed his daughters to make cigarettes for us, which, with the kindness which clings to their sex all the world over, they, seeing that we were strangers, wet and tired, were nothing loth to do. These cigarettes, under the native name of “rokos,” were always forthcoming, and are made of tobacco (segope), both grown and manufactured by these inland people. It is cut very neatly, and is made up for sale into ropes or rolls a yard or more in length, these being folded so as to make convenient bundles about nine inches long. Although not given to trickery, it is customary for these people to make the rope “core” of refuse tobacco, or of the leaves of kaladi, or other plants, and over this the really good manufactured tobacco is wound. The result of this is that the useable produce is not above one-fourth of the apparent bulk, and although all are well aware of the subterfuge, and carefully examine every roll of this tobacco before they purchase it, yet the practice continues year after year. For smoking, this dark shaggy tobacco is carefully unwound from the “core” (or “prot,” literally stomach), and enfolded in a neat wrapper formed of the young leaf of the nipa palm, or occasionally in the thin husk of the maize cobs, both of which serve the purpose of cigarette paper by burning slowly but freely, producing neither flame nor flavour. There is scarcely a more national trait observable among Borneans than the smoking of the “roko.” It is the one luxury common to all. From the Sultan to his meanest subject—male or female—everyone indulges in smoking them; indeed I have repeatedly seen unweaned infants partaking of the solace of the breast and of their tiny “rokos” alternately, both the gift of indulgent Bornean mammas.

August 10th.—All night we could hear the rain pouring down in torrents, but it cleared up towards morning, and at sunrise all was beautifully clear and bright. This is the view we obtained of the mountain as seen this morning at 7 a.m., all the lower part being obscured by the trees in the foreground. By 7.30 we had breakfasted, and were on our way. Yesterday had been a most unfortunate day so far as real progress towards the mountain was concerned, and although all our guides were loud in their protests that it would be impossible to cross the streams after the late heavy rain, we were doggedly determined to go on. We crossed the river twice, and now, at 8.30, all further progress seems impossible, since we have to cross again, and this at a place where the river is a boiling torrent nearly five feet deep. The Dusun themselves seem to have no great difficulty in crossing, but our Labuan men are afraid. The great difficulty is to keep one’s legs under one in the strong current, and to facilitate this being done the Dusun often take up a heavy stone and carry it on one shoulder. Our men bathed here whilst waiting, and most of them took up a stone and cast it into the water ere they flung themselves in. This they do to propitiate the “antu,” or river god, who they tell me might otherwise be offended, and afflict them with sickness. As we sit beside this rushing river, the most gorgeous butterflies flit here in the chequered shade afforded by overhanging branches. Yellow, white, and brown species vie with each other in activity. Now and then the most splendid ornithoptera are seen, their strong and swift flight resembling that of a bird. One lovely fellow, fully six inches across the wings, settled on my boot as I remained motionless watching it. It was of a velvety blackness, with a bold band of pea-green across the wings. Another species rather smaller has a band of metallic blue. These delicate insects are generally most numerous by rivers, or in sunny places by the dry beds of streams, and, singularly enough, are most abundant during the cool wet monsoon.

August 11th.—A lovely morning, and at sunrise we obtained charming views of “Kina Balu.” The rugged top crags were especially well defined, as also the sloping plateau, which seemingly forms the watershed for one of the highest falls. Apparently we are quite near to the mountain, and the waterfall is distinctly audible, which does much to increase the delusion. As the sun’s power increased, however, the view lost its distinctness, and in half an hour’s time heavy white mist clouds had swept around its summit, and all its beauty of tint and shadow was lost to view. We ate a hurried breakfast, and started for Koung, a large and prosperous village situated a little to the south-east of Saduc-Saduc, the mountain ascended by Mr. Thomas Lobb in 1856. Our way lay diagonally down a hillside drain until we came to the river, which we forded, and then bore to the left across level rice-fields and patches of luxuriant kaladi (Caladium esculentum) and Indian corn, both of which evidently succeed best on these rich low lying alluvial plains. We crossed the river four or five times ere we at last found ourselves on the splendid village green of Koung. This green is a mile or more in length, lying at the foot of a range of sandstone hills which shelter it from the north, while the river skirts its southern side, and another hill rises from the river banks still further southward. It is, in fact, a well watered grassy plain between two sheltering parallel hill ranges, and affords the best pasturage for cattle that I have seen anywhere in the East. Of this the villagers take every advantage, for nowhere have I seen finer kine and buffaloes than here. We reached the headman’s house at Koung about four o’clock in a drenching downpour of rain. Some trees beside the stream were draped with a glorious climber, having scarlet flowers (Bauhinia kochiana), and a glaucous climbing plant, having lilac flowers, had completely overrun some of the forest trees on the opposite bank. We took up our quarters in the house of the headman, “Lapayang,” to whom Mr. Veitch and myself had given a Tower musket on the last journey I made in this direction. I notice that such of my men as speak the Brunei language can converse with the Dusun very readily after a few days’ residence amongst them. This fact was noted by Mr. St. John, and from what I know of the language myself after a year’s residence, and aided by vocabularies carefully collected, I believe the language of these people is intermediate between that spoken in the capital, Brunei, and that of the Sulus. Bees-wax and caoutchouc or rubber are frequently offered for barter as we pass through the villages. “Lapayang” welcomed us in his own way by firing a salute, and a gong was beaten to announce our arrival. I was sorry to find that his father had died since my last visit, when he had received us with many expressions of good-will, and told us of Mr. Low’s first visit to the mountain, which he remembered well. As we had arrived before our supplies, “Lapayang” brought us some rice and a fowl as a present, and one of his sisters gave us some eggs and a fine cluster of bananas. I felt thankful when we arrived at Koung, since I knew the way from this place to the mountain quite well, and had not to trust to lazy guides, who have not the slightest idea of time or its value to the traveller. My buffalo also had reason to be glad, for here the plucky little beast had the luxury of good herbage on which to feed, a much better thing for him than the miscellaneous browsing afforded by our former halting places. The river runs about fifty yards from our quarters, and is very much swollen, having in many places overflowed its banks. Capital shooting may be had here at the large blue pigeons which roost in the trees beside the river, quite close to the houses.

August 12th.—Again a lovely morning as we crossed the ford just at the end of the village and pushed on for Kiau. The road lies by the sides of the river most of the way until the turn to the left is taken up the open rice-fields, which lie below the last-named village. We crossed this river thirteen times to-day, and some of the crossings were deep and rapid. Met troops of natives—male and female—mostly laden with large baskets of tobacco, which they were taking down to the villages nearer the coast to barter for cloth, knives, and other goods, as no traders appear to venture further inland than the first Dusun villages. Most of the men were armed with a long slender-shafted spear, which is especially useful to them in fording the streams. In addition they had the “parang,” a sort of scimetar-shaped sword, having a good keen edge. This is slung to a broad belt worn sash-wise over one shoulder, the part which crosses the breast being ornamented with cowrie shells sewn on very thickly. I was very glad when we reached the little farms of the Kiau villagers, and could see their dwellings and palm-trees in the distance. In some of the clearings the crimson-leaved dracÆna (D. terminalis) was conspicuous. It has here slender stems five or six feet in height, each terminated by a tuft of bright coloured leaves. Going up the hill slowly, I made a little collection of the weeds found among the rice and kaladi crops. Among these were two pretty little plants of the daisy family (CompositÆ), the one with purple and the other with yellow florets. A tiny species of torenia formed spreading tufts of purplish leaves and stems, and bore rather pretty purple and white flowers. A woolly-leaved gnaphalium attaining a foot in height, and bearing dense clusters of yellow immortelle-like flowers, was especially noticeable. There are numerous springs of cool water, clear as crystal, in this hillside, and these are brought down to the path in tiny troughs or aqueducts of bamboo, so that one has only to stoop very slightly to drink, and water-vessels are readily replenished. The whole hillside is dotted with flat-roofed field-huts of clean yellow bamboo. These afford shelter during the mid-day siesta enjoyed by the workers in the field, who are for the most part women and children. Tiny streamlets are met with now and then, and in favourable spots the most graceful tree-ferns of the primÆval jungle still linger, although fully exposed to the hot sun. The lower parts of their black trunks, however, are shaded by coarse herbage, and their roots revel among the earth, dÉbris, and wet stones below. In some places the wet earth and stones beside these streams were carpeted with lovely mosses, and of these several rare kinds in good condition were obtained. We met one of my old guides, “Kurow” (see p. 97), this morning as we came along. He came up to me laughing and vociferating loudly. “Soung,” who interprets Dusun for me, says that he wants me to understand that he, “Kurow,” is glad to see me again, and that he will do all he can to help me. We reached the village about three o’clock in a dense white mist, and it commenced raining heavily a few minutes after our arrival. Among the plants we saw to-day was a splendid large bolbophyllum (B. petreianum). A vanda grew on the trees overhanging the river, but was not in bloom. The deliciously-perfumed snow-white flowers of Dendrobium crumenatum, which were especially beautiful on the immense boulders of granite on the green at Koung, was also often met with to-day, and at one of the fords a large-growing coelogyne (C. racemosa) bore drooping spikes of yellow and white flowers, the entire inflorescence being nearly a yard in length. While my boy was cooking dinner I made sketches of the most peculiar plants of botanical interest met with en route, much to the surprise—I might almost say awe—of the natives, who crowded around me and watched every line—and especially the colouring—with great interest. I was surprised at the small number of women who came to see us in comparison with those who flocked into the house when we were last here. I found, however, that this was owing to their being away engaged in rice planting and other field labour. The headman of this village, named “Lemoung,” had died since my last visit, and we saw his grave on the little hill just as we entered the village. A little hut had been erected over it, and this was decorated with eight little streamers of white cloth. His son, “Boloung,” now “reigns in his stead.” When we took our evening meal most of the women had returned from work, and the house was crowded, and the greatest curiosity was evinced as our plates, knives, forks, and glasses were spread out glitteringly in the lamplight. These people are very different from the Malays of the coast, and never tired of laughing and talking about ourselves and our goods. The women are not in the least secluded, and are far better proportioned, as well as more amiable and industrious, than are their Malayan sisters. Their clothes consist of a “sarong,” or short petticoat, fastened around the waist, and reaching to the knees, and a strip of black cloth is bound over the breast. Their ornaments consist of brass wristlets and anklets. Necklets of beads or brass wire are also worn, and over the breasts, as also around the waist, coils of rattan cane dyed black or red are worn. Ferrule-like pieces of tin are often strung on these rattan coils, and strings of beads are also worn around the waist. Ear ornaments are generally of wood, and as large as a wine-cork. Both men and women have holes pierced in their ears, but these are not unfrequently utilised as cigarette-holders, much in the same way as the Zulu Kaffirs at the Cape carry snuff-boxes in their ears. Everywhere here inland we find the native cloth is made from the “lamba” fibre dyed a deep blue-black with native indigo. I procured specimens of this fibre-weaving apparatus, and prepared cloth, and these may now be seen in the large Economic Museum at Kew. After dinner “Kurow,” our old guide, and “Boloung,” the headman of this village, came in with the avowed purpose of having a chat. They were particularly anxious to hear about the white man who had come to live on the Tampassuk river (Mr. Pretyman), who they had been told intended to make them all pay tribute, which was evidently unpleasant news to them. They also wanted to know where I had been since I left their village, and were very much interested in all I told them about the Sultan of Sulu. The house was full of people of all ages, who had come to see us, and among them were a party from a village three days’ journey inland. These were on their way to the coast villages to trade. The produce they had with them was tobacco, bees-wax, india-rubber, and a little “lamba” cloth and raw cotton. These people had never seen a white man before, and seemed rather interested in all we did; and in the accounts their Dusun neighbours gave them of us and our doings, the gist of which was that we came from a large prahu, or ship, to dig up grass and shoot birds, that we ate and drank all sorts of curious things, but singularly enough, as they thought, would not eat rats or tiger-cats, these being esteemed great delicacies here by the native trappers. Here, at Kiau, as at all the Dusun villages along our way, we noticed large quantities of tame or domesticated bees. These are kept in cylindrical hives formed of a hollow tree trunk, and are placed on a shelf fixed under the overhanging eaves of the houses. In several instances the hives were on shelves inside the houses, a hole being made through the “ataps” corresponding with the hole in the hive, so as to allow of egress and ingress, a plan similar to that adopted by the bee-keeping natives of Kashmir.

August 13th.—I and Smith have been busy all morning, overhauling our stores and goods, and getting ready for our going up the mountain to-morrow. Our rice had suffered from damp, but as we find we can buy some here, it does not matter so much. Several fowls were also brought in for sale this morning, so that we are not likely to starve. Having put all our gear into order after our seven days’ march, we took our guns and a couple of men, and took the path leading eastward, which led us across one or two rice and vegetable plots, in which tobacco plants were growing freely, and at last we crossed a recent clearing and reached the forest, which crests the spur or hill range on which the village of Kiau stands. We turned northwards and climbed the hillside, which was stiff work, being in places nearly perpendicular. Here I found a pretty foliage plant, having strap-shaped leaves six inches in length, glossy green, boldly variegated with silver-white above, while the underside of the leaves was of a deep blood colour. Of this I gathered as much as I desired, and a wild plantain or banana growing near, I cut one down, and packing my plants close together in damp moss and earth, I enveloped them in the cool moist sheathing layers of the banana stem. Thus packed, they occupy but little space, and are easily carried without risk of damage by drought or friction. Saw several coelogynes in flower on the surrounding trees, but other orchids seemed scarce. I made a collection of ferns, mosses, &c., for drying, but nothing striking from a horticultural point of view was seen. We gained the crest of the ridge after an hour’s hard work, and followed it eastward for two or three miles, but without any change in the vegetation. On returning, we did not descend the way we came, but followed the crest in a westward direction, and from one point we got a capital view of one of the waterfalls on the mountain. It was now becoming misty, however, and we returned to the village, which we reached just in time to avoid a drenching, for the rain came down in torrents. I sent one of my men to fetch “Kurow,” and when he came I told him I wanted to bargain with him to take me to the mountain in the morning. He at first said he couldn’t bargain, because “Boloung,” the headman, was out. He had scarcely spoken, however, before “Boloung” himself entered from the other end of the house. Finding this loophole closed, he said he could not bargain to-day, because it was an unlucky day to him. He had visited all his traps and snares this morning, he said, and there was nothing caught, adding that he knew it before he started; this was his bad day. “Boloung” said they would come in and bargain in the morning. Fortunately I was not entirely dependent on them, and could have found the way myself, intricate as it is. Anyone who had not travelled here before, however, is entirely dependent on these people as guides, and their utter disregard of the value of time is perplexing enough to a stranger with limited supplies of food for himself and followers. It was these people who turned back Mr. Thomas Lobb when he attempted to ascend Kina Balu from this village in 1856, and the moral force of a well-armed and rather imposing party is still necessary in order to keep their avarice within moderate bounds, and to obtain from them the little assistance necessary. When Mr. Low ascended the mountain in 1851, he gave many presents to these people, and even now the wealth the village obtained through his visit is much talked of among the hill villagers. When Mr. Lobb was there, five years later, he had but a small party of followers, and not being prepared to pay in cloth and other goods so liberally as Mr. Low had done, they refused to help him, and he was compelled to leave without ascending the mountain, as he had desired to do. Even in 1858 Mr. Low and Mr. S. St. John had to “guard carefully against pilferers,” and had a little hostility to contend with as well. On their second expedition, in the same year, however, they experienced a better reception. Some years later, I believe in 1866, an Italian expedition came here for natural history purposes, and the Dusun account is that they ascended 6,000 feet. This expedition, according to native accounts, paid twice as much as was necessary, a precedent which gives these hill villagers an excuse for extortion. When I and Mr. Peter Veitch came here, eight months ago, we had a well-armed force at our backs, and we taught the Kiau people how to moderate their desires by paying a just price for all they gave or sold to us, and for all services performed, but we gave no presents. Livingstone1 deprecates the system of giving presents in his first work on travel, and he is not the only traveller who has had reason to complain of a mode of procedure which invariably causes inconvenience to others. These people were always well-disposed towards us, and this time I find our plan was a good one, for there is no misunderstanding; fowls, rice, and other provisions are far more easily procurable now, since the natives know that all will be fairly paid for, whereas under the old system their object was to give a small present in the hope of receiving something far more valuable.

August 14th.—“Kurow” came in this morning, and commenced to “bargain” cautiously by asking to see the goods we were willing to pay for guides. “Suong,” our interpreter, who was an adept at trading, spread out some cloth and other things to the value of a few shillings, and after a deal of talking an agreement was arrived at by “Kurow” and “Boloung” consenting to accompany us in return for these things and an old coat of mine, upon which “Kurow” had cast longing eyes ever since my arrival. Among the goods was an entire length—twenty-six yards—of grey shirting, and this was brought back for me to divide into two halves, each of these dusky chiefs seeming firmly convinced that the other would “best” him if possible. Having, after some slight trouble, divided the cloth to their liking, and handed them the other goods in pre-payment, another difficulty arose, both declaring that they could not start to the mountain to-day, as they had no rice, and must needs go to the next village to obtain some. By this time all my men were ready to start, and as I had said I should set out to-day, I was determined to do so at all risks. I explained to them that they had plenty of rice in their village, but that if they really wanted more “Kurow” had better accompany us, and “Boloung” could obtain supplies and come on after us on the morrow, adding that we should start at once, and if their agreement was not kept we should of course take back the goods we had pre-paid them. It must be distinctly understood that in Borneo pre-payment for goods or services to be rendered is the national custom, just as it is in South America. In the latter country the natives who collect the india-rubber or caoutchouc in Brazil may serve as an illustration of the fact. I left my “boy,” who was rather unwell, and the only old man in our party, to “abide by the stuff” in the house, and shouldered my gun and left our guides to think matters over. We had not proceeded above a mile, however, before “Kurow” overtook us, and went on ahead as cheerful as possible. After an hour or two of rough walking on shelving forest-paths, varied here and there by slippery logs, we came to a mountain-stream, probably one of the tributaries of the Haya-Haya. Here, in a large stone trap, the worthy “Kurow” was fortunate enough to find a large wild cat. I had not spoken to him since he overtook us, but I could not resist the opportunity of reminding him that this was one of his lucky days! We crossed here, the water being deliciously fresh and cool, and another hour’s stiff walking brought us over the base of the next spur, and to our old quarters, the “Sleeping Rock,” where we were to rest for the night. This is a gigantic overhanging boulder near a foaming torrent. A pretty little maidenhair fern, before alluded to, grew here in great plenty, and attained the greatest luxuriance among the dÉbris of former camp fires. Overhead a colony of mason bees had established themselves, forming multitudes of little rounded mud nests on the face of the rock, and when we lighted our fires the smoke disturbed them much. A still greater nuisance, however, was our guide, “Kurow,” who made a fire and commenced to cook his wild cat by roasting it, hair, skin and all, without the slightest preparation. When Mr. Veitch and myself slept here during my first visit, he had two rats—rather high they were too—which he roasted entire, and ate with great satisfaction! The soil near the bottom of these immense spurs is very rich, as attested by the luxuriance of bamboo and species of ginger which are comparatively puny on poor land. Beside the mountain torrents a pink-spathed aroid (Gamogyne Burbidgei, N.E. Br.) is common, and rather pretty. A species of dwarf palm (Areca, sp.), bearing clusters of small scarlet fruits, is noticeable, and a trailing plant, allied to the jasmines, bore axillary clusters of white waxy flowers, each having a brown eye-like spot in its centre. The perfume emitted by its blossoms was delicious, and resembled that of spring hyacinths. A red-fruited raspberry (Rubus rosÆfolius), and several species of ferns and selaginellas carpeted the low shady forest along our route. The only bird we saw was a lyre-tailed shrike of a dark ash colour. Our dinner consisted of a fowl cut up and boiled with a little rice, and when it was nearly done we added a small tin of Julienne soup to it, thus securing some substantial potage, and we were hungry enough to appreciate it at its full value. A cup of coffee and a cigar made us forget all our bruises, and knowing the stiff day’s work we had for the morrow, we retired to our blankets early.

August 15th.—We awoke about 5 A.M. and aroused our followers. A Malay named “Jeludin,” acted as cook in the absence of my regular “boy,” and he prepared a very palatable breakfast of the remains of our dinner, supplemented by nicely boiled rice and dried fish. “Kurow” breakfasted off wild cat roasted À la Dusun, and a little rice which we gave him. After breakfast he sat smoking, and “Suong” came and told me that he would not go up the mountain. On my asking him his reason for resolving thus, he replied that he could not go because he had no trowsers, nor coat, nor head-cloth. I had given him a warm tweed coat previous to starting, but this he had left in his house. I at once told him through “Suong,” that if he did not go as I had paid him to do, I should tell all the headmen as we returned to the coast, that he broke his bargains, and was afraid to go up the mountain. This threat had the desired effect on him; for after reflecting on it several minutes, he arose and prepared to start, saying with charming naÏvetÉ, that “I was a good man, and that he liked me.” About seven o’clock “Boloung” and five or six of his followers rejoined us, as they had promised, and we set off on our way up the spur.

Our path at first lay up the bed of the torrent, but we left this in a few minutes, bearing up the spur to the right, past a bamboo fence in which rat-traps were placed at intervals of a few feet. Here and there, too, we noticed the dangerous spring pig-spearing apparatus, so commonly met with in the forests of the Murut and Kayan tribes who live further south. The deposit of forest dÉbris at the base of this south spur is very rich in ferns and herbaceous plants. A melastomad here and there bore clusters of pretty pink flowers. Of this plant, which grew in the moss beside the path, there are green and purple-leaved varieties. A glossy-leaved ardisia, having clusters of red berries, the foliage being claret-coloured beneath, was conspicuous; and the stems of a shrub four feet high were covered with clusters of vermilion-tinted berries the size of small peas; another shrub, a yard high, having lance-shaped serrate leaves, bore clusters of pure white, gesnera-like flowers. As we climbed higher up the mountain side, rhododendra, bearing white, scarlet, yellow, or magenta-coloured blossoms, began to appear, and epiphytal and terrestrial orchids also became more plentiful. The curious pitcher-plants also increased in profusion, some being of a wondrous size and of the most singular form, colour and texture. At one place in a secluded mossy nook, where Mr. Veitch and I had obtained plants during our last ascent, I found that some cuttings we had accidentally left on the ground had thrown out numerous fresh roots into the wet moss on which they lay! The delicately perfumed little orchid, Dendrochilum glumaceum, was flowering freely, its elegantly drooping inflorescence resembling the most dainty filagree work. Golden and white-flowered coelogynes nestled here and there beside our path. In one place, the curious little Rhododendron ericifolium was in bloom; and another species, growing on mossy trunks, bore waxy, bell-shaped flowers of a clear orange-scarlet colour. The dark glossy green foliage of this last reminded one of that of a sciadopitys in form, being linear, and arranged in whorls. It has been named (Rhododendron stenophyllum, Hook. f.).

As we ascended the temperature fell faster and faster, and at intervals we were completely enveloped in dense clouds of mist, while at other times they were dispersed, and the sun brightened up the mountain side. One place we passed this morning is rather dangerous, almost like walking on the ridge of a high building, the descent on one side however being a sheer precipice of 1,500 feet, and the other side is steep; but there are a few bushes near, which give one confidence. At 8,000 feet we again enter a dripping cloud, or rather it sweeps down to meet us, and the trees here are of low stature and gnarled, the branches being so low that in places one has to crawl through them. Casuarina trees are commonly met with. The ground and lower bushes are covered with wet mosses, and white hair-like masses of usnea sway to and fro in the higher branches. The cold increased, and my Labuan men felt it very much. I looked at my thermometer at three o’clock during a heavy shower, and at an altitude of 9,000 feet, and it registered 56°. In England one would consider this a delicious temperature; but when we started this morning we had a temperature thirty degrees higher.

It was curious to notice the effect the depression of heat and the rain had on my men, who had never in their lives known the thermometer below 70°. They appeared perfectly paralysed; and the Dusun themselves were but little better. We reached our former camping-place, the cave, about 3.30, wet, cold, tired, and hungry. Five of the fellows were so far chilled and exhausted that they gave up when within ten minutes of the cave, and huddled themselves close together under some dry rocks. I sent twice for them to come on to us, but they would not move, and passed the night without fire or food, rather than bestir themselves to prepare either. We managed to start a fire after some difficulty, and then pulled off our cold wet garments. I got one of my Malays to rub me briskly all over with a coarse towel, and then put on two flannel shirts, trowsers, and jacket, after which I felt comparatively comfortable. One of the Dusun fetched us some water from a stream half a mile off; and it was so icy cold as to make one’s teeth chatter to drink it—rather a novelty in the tropics.

“Jeludin,” although shivering, set about cooking our dinner; and “Suong,” who was the most useful man I had, chopped up enough wood to last us all the night. The men who came on with us sat shivering under the rocks for over an hour, before I could induce them to set about lighting themselves a fire. It was, indeed, really painful to see the poor fellows so utterly paralysed. “Boloung,” the chief of the Kiau Dusun, who had accompanied us, had carried up a fowl under his arm the whole way; and when he reached the cave, I was agreeably surprised when he presented it to me, and I took it as a great compliment, for it is extremely rare for a Dusun to put himself to so much trouble even for a friend, much less for a stranger like myself. This fowl, although lively enough in the morning, had become so wet and cold during the ascent, that it appeared to be dead; indeed, I thought it was dead for some time, but on holding it near the fire, it revived a little. Our Dusun followers made their encampment under a dry, overhanging rock, a quarter of a mile ahead of us. We had a view of the great waterfall on the bare granite rocks of the mountain opposite, and could hear the dash of its current into the stream below very plainly.

After dinner we made up a good fire; and never did I fancy a cup of hot coffee so delicious as this seemed to be; while the primest of fragrant Havannahs have been far less comforting than was the modest cigarette of native grown tobacco, which one of my followers made and presented to me on the spot. Our fire blazed up brightly, and diffused both warmth and fragrance in our rocky dwelling; and, wrapping our rugs and blankets around us, we were soon asleep, surrounded by our Labuan men, who crowded around the fire, and kept it replenished with fuel throughout the night.