alked all through the jungle paths near their homes, now
near to our cottage, now far off. One night I found my little ayah
seated in the nursery when she ought to have been in the cook-house
getting her supper. "What is the matter, Nina? Are you ill, that you are
eating no supper?" "No, I am not ill, but I dare not go to the
cook-house to-night." "Why?" "I fear to meet the spirits who are abroad
to-night in the jungle." "The spirits of the dead men?" "No, the spirits
who come to fetch them." After three days the bodies of these Dyaks were
burnt, for this was the custom of the Sebumbans. The dead man is laid
on a pile of wood, and they all sit round watching. Nina said, that when
the fire has burnt some time the dead man sits up for a moment,
whereupon they all burst into renewed waitings of sorrow and farewell. I
am told that the heat swelling the sinews of the dead body may cause
this curious phenomenon; but could there be a more mournful, hopeless
story of death?

It is a relief to return to the party on the Rejang River. They were
much entertained one day with a war-dance between two warriors, which
was a graphic pantomime of their customs. "The two men appeared fully
armed, and were supposed to be each alone on the war-path, looking out
for a head. They moved to the beat of native drums, and seemed to be
going through all the motions of looking out for an enemy, pulling out
the ranjows (sharp pieces of cane stuck in the earth, point upwards, to
lame an enemy). At length they descried one another, danced defiance,
and, flourishing swords and shields, commenced the attack. The
nimbleness with which they parried every stroke of the sword, and
covered their bodies with their shields, was remarkable. In real combat,
to strike the shield is certain death, because the sword sticks in the
wood and cannot be withdrawn in time to prevent the other man from using
his sword. After a time, one of the combatants fell wounded, and covered
his body with his shield. The other danced round him triumphantly, and
with one blow pretended to cut off his head; then, head in hand, he
capered with the wildest gestures, expressive of the very ecstasy of
savage delight But, on looking at his trophy closely, he recognized the
features of a friend, and, smitten with remorse, he replaced the head
with much solicitude. Then, moving with a slow, measured tread, he wept,
and with many sighs of grief adjusted the head with much care, caught
rain in