of the cottage, and watching lest the thatch should
catch. In the morning they discovered the burnt ducks, and ate them up
with much relish, for a Dyak likes the flavour of burnt feathers. The
next day the cook-house was rebuilt. These native huts look so clean and
fresh when first put up, the straw-coloured attap[6] walls and green
leaf roofs are so agreeable to the eye. They quickly turn hay colour and
then get discoloured by the wood smoke. Except that we were at times
rather short of food, we enjoyed our mountain retreat very much. The
bath was a remarkable feature--a natural stone basin, under the shadow
of a great rock, fed by the clearest streamlet and sheltered from view
by a heavy bit of curtain, was our bathing-place. We carried a little
leaf bucket and our towels in our hands, and while we poured the fresh
water over our heads we could now and then stop to look at the great
expanse of plain and forest, with silver rivers winding amidst them, and
blue smoke stealing up here and there to mark a Dyak village. There was,
however, a particular rock on the spur of the mountain from whence we
always watched the sun set; there was a much wider view from thence. The
sea lay on the horizon, and the pointed mountain of Santubong stood on
the plain, with other ranges of hills far away. I fear we did little
else but watch the glories of earth and sky at that time, and look after
our children, who could not be trusted alone a minute on those steep
paths.

[Footnote 6: Palm leaf.]

Meanwhile the Bishop was paying a visit to Lundu in his new life-boat, a
boat of about twenty-eight feet, with a little covered house in it, and
water-tight compartments in the bow and stern to keep her afloat. She
was well named, for even in this first voyage she saved the lives of her
passengers. From the coast at Santubong you see blue hills far away to
the west, which lie in the Lundu country. The sea runs very high, in the
north-cast monsoon, between the mouths of these two rivers, the Sarawak
and Lundu; and on this occasion the waves on their return from Lundu
were fearful. Seven great waves like green hills advanced one after
another. The Malay crew prayed aloud with terror. Stahl and the Bishop
steered the boat and held their breaths. It looked like rushing into the
jaws of death, but the life-boat mounted the big waves one after
another, sometimes shuddering with the strain, but buoyant and stiff.
The danger past, the crew praised A