Every night while we were camped here, and frequently in the day, as if controlled by magic, the numerous dogs belonging to the Dayaks suddenly began to howl in chorus. It is more ludicrous than disagreeable and is a phenomenon common to all kampongs, though I never before had experienced these manifestations in such regularity and perfection of concerted action. One or two howls are heard and immediately all canines of the kampong and neighbouring ladangs join, perhaps more than a hundred in one chorus. At a distance the noise resembles the acclamations of a vast crowd of people. The Penihings and Oma-Sulings treat man's faithful companion well, the former even with affection; and the dogs, which are of the usual type, yellowish in colour, with pointed muzzle, erect ears, and upstanding tail, are in fine condition. A trait peculiar to the Dayak variety is that he never barks at strangers, permitting them to walk on the galleries or even in the rooms without interference. Groups of these intelligent animals are always to be seen before the house and on the gallery, often in terrific fights among themselves, but never offensive to strangers.

They certainly serve the Dayaks well by holding the pig or other animal at bay until the men can come up and kill it with spear. Some of them are afraid of bear, others attack them. They are very eager to board the prahus when their owners depart to the ladangs, thinking that it means a chase of the wild pig. Equally eager are they to get into the room at night, or at any time when the owner has left them outside. Doors are cleverly opened by them, but when securely locked the dogs sometimes, in their impatience, gnaw holes in the lower part of the door which look like the work of rodents, though none that I saw was large enough to admit a canine of their size. One day a big live pig was brought in from the utan over the shoulder of a strong man, its legs tied together, and as a compliment to me the brute was tethered to a pole by one leg, while the dogs, about fifty, barked at and harassed it. This, I was told, is the way they formerly were trained. As in a bull-fight, so here my sympathy was naturally with the animal, which managed to bite a dog severely in the side and shook another vigorously by the tail. Finally some young boys gave it a merciful death with spears.

A woman blian died after an illness of five days, and the next forenoon a coffin was made from an old prahu. She had not been ill long, so the preparations for the funeral were brief. Early in the afternoon wailing was heard from the gallery, and a few minutes later the cortege emerged on its way to the river bank, taking a short cut over the slope between the trees, walking fast because they feared that if they lingered other people might become ill. There were only seven or eight members of the procession; most of whom acted as pall-bearers, and all were poor people. They deposited their burden on the bank, kneeling around it for a few minutes and crying mournfully. A hen had been killed at the house, but no food was offered to antoh at the place of embarkation, as had been expected by some of their neighbours.

Covered with a large white cloth, the coffin was hurriedly taken down from the embankment and placed in a prahu, which they immediately proceeded to paddle down-stream where the burial was to take place in the utan some distance away. The reddish-brown waters of the Mahakam, nearly always at flood, flowed swiftly between the walls of dark jungle on either side and shone in the early afternoon sun, under a pale-blue sky, with beautiful, small, distant white clouds. Three mourners remained behind, one man standing, gazing after the craft. Then, as the prahu, now very small to the eye, approached the distant bend of the river, in a few seconds to disappear from sight, the man who had been standing in deep reflection went down to the water followed by the two women, each of whom slipped off her only garment in their usual dexterous way, and all proceeded to bathe, thus washing away all odours or other effects of contact with the corpse, which might render them liable to attack from the antoh that had killed the woman blian.

In the first week of June we began our return journey against the current, arriving in the afternoon at Data Lingei, an Oma-Suling kampong said to be inhabited also by Long-Glats and three other tribes. We were very welcome here. Although I told them I did not need a bamboo palisade round my tent for one night, these hospitable people, after putting up my tent, placed round it a fence of planks which chanced to be at hand. At dusk everything was in order and I took a walk through the kampong followed by a large crowd which had been present all the time.

Having told them to bring all the articles they wanted to sell, I quickly bought some good masks and a number of tail feathers from the rhinoceros hornbill, which are regarded as very valuable, being worn by the warriors in their rattan caps. All were "in the market," prices were not at all exorbitant, and business progressed very briskly until nine o'clock, when I had made valuable additions, especially of masks, to my collections. The evening passed pleasantly and profitably to all concerned. I acquired a shield which, besides the conventionalised representation of a dog, exhibited a wild-looking picture of an antoh, a very common feature on Dayak shields. The first idea it suggests to civilised man is that its purpose is to terrify the enemy, but my informant laughed at this suggestion. It represents a good antoh who keeps the owner of the shield in vigorous health.

The kapala's house had at once attracted attention on account of the unusually beautiful carvings that extended from each gable, and which on a later occasion I photographed. These were long boards carved in artistic semblance of the powerful antoh called nagah, a benevolent spirit, but also a vindictive one. The two carvings together portrayed the same monster, the one showing its head and body, the other its tail. Before being placed on the gables a sacrifice had been offered and the carvings had been smeared with blood - in other words, to express the thought of the Dayak, as this antoh is very fierce when aroused to ire, it had first been given blood to eat, in order that it should not be angry with the owner of the house, but disposed to protect him from his enemies. While malevolent spirits do not associate with good ones, some which usually are beneficent at times may do harm, and among these is one, the nagah, that dominates the imagination of many Dayak tribes. It appears to be about the size of a rusa, and in form is a combination of the body of that animal and a serpent, the horned head having a disproportionately large dog's mouth. Being an antoh, and the greatest of all, it is invisible under ordinary conditions, but lives in rivers and underground caves, and it eats human beings.

Lidju, who accompanied me as interpreter and to be generally useful, had aroused the men early in the morning to cook their rice, so that we could start at seven o'clock, arriving in good time at the Kayan kampong, Long Blu. Here, on the north side of the river, was formerly a small military establishment, inhabited at present by a few Malay families, the only ones on the Mahakam River above the great kihams. Accompanied by Lidju I crossed the river to see the great kampong of the Kayans.

Ascending the tall ladder which leads up to the kampong, we passed through long, deserted-looking galleries, and from one a woman hurriedly retired into a room. The inhabitants were at their ladangs, most of them four hours' travel from here. Arriving finally at the house of Kwing Iran, I was met by a handful of people gathered in its cheerless, half-dark gallery. On our return to a newly erected section of the kampong we met the intelligent kapala and a few men. Some large prahus were lying on land outside the house, bound for Long Iram, where the Kayans exchange rattan and rubber for salt and other commodities, but the start had been delayed because the moon, which was in its second quarter, was not favourable. These natives are reputed to have much wang, owing to the fact that formerly they supplied rice to the garrison, receiving one ringit for each tinful.

Though next day was rainy and the river high, making paddling hard work, we arrived in good time at Long Tjehan and found ourselves again among the Penihings. During the month I still remained here I made valuable ethnological collections and also acquired needed information concerning the meaning and use of the different objects, which is equally important. The chief difficulty was to find an interpreter, but an intelligent and efficient Penihing offered his services. He "had been to Soerabaia," which means that he had been at hard labour, convicted of head-hunting, and during his term had acquired a sufficient knowledge of Malay to be able to serve me. My Penihing collections I believe are complete. Of curious interest are the many games for children, among them several varieties of what might be termed toy guns and different kinds of puzzles, some of wood while others are plaited from leaves or made of thread.

The kampong lies at the junction of the Mahakam and a small river called Tjehan, which, like several other affluents from the south, originates in the dividing range. The Tjehan contains two or three kihams but is easy to ascend, and at its head-waters the range presents no difficulties in crossing. This is not the case at the sources of the Blu, where the watershed is high and difficult to pass. Small parties of Malays occasionally cross over to the Mahakam at these points as well as at Pahangei. In the country surrounding the kampong are several limestone hills, the largest of which, Lung Karang, rises in the immediate vicinity.

Doctor Nieuwenhuis on his journey ascended some distance up the Tjehan tributary, and in the neighbourhood of Lung Karang his native collector found an orchid which was named phalaenopsis gigantea, and is known only from the single specimen in the botanical garden at Buitenzorg, Java. On a visit there my attention was drawn to the unusual size of its leaves and its white flowers. I then had an interview with the Javanese who found it, and decided that when I came to the locality I would try to secure some specimens of this unique plant. Having now arrived in the region, I decided to devote a few days to looking for the orchid and at the same time investigate a great Penihing burial cave which was found by my predecessor.

Accompanied by two of our soldiers and with five Dayak paddlers, I ascended the Tjehan as far as the first kiham, in the neighbourhood of which I presumed that the burial cave would be and where, therefore, according; to the description given to me, the orchid should be found. There was no doubt that we were near a locality much dreaded by the natives; even before I gave a signal to land, one of the Penihings, recently a head-hunter, became hysterically uneasy. He was afraid of orang mati (dead men), he said, and if we were going to sleep near them he and his companions would be gone. The others were less perturbed, and when assured that I did not want anybody to help me look for the dead but for a rare plant, the agitated man, who was the leader, also became calm.

We landed, but the soldier who usually waited upon me could not be persuaded to accompany me. All the Javanese, Malays, and Chinamen are afraid of the dead, he said, and declined to go. Alone I climbed the steep mountain-side; the ascent was not much over a hundred metres, but I had to make my way between big blocks of hard limestone, vegetation being less dense than usual. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when, from the top of a crest which I had reached, I suddenly discovered at no great distance, perhaps eighty metres in front of me, a large cave at the foot of a limestone hill. With the naked eye it was easy to distinguish a multitude of rough boxes piled in three tiers, and on top of all a great variety of implements and clothing which had been deposited there for the benefit of the dead. It made a strange impression in this apparently abandoned country where the dead are left in solitude, feared and shunned by their former associates.

No Penihing will go to the cave of the dead except to help carry a corpse, because many antohs are there who make people ill. The extreme silence was interrupted only once, by the defiant cry of an argus pheasant. As the weather was cloudy I decided to return here soon, by myself, in order to photograph and make closer inspection of the burial-place. I then descended to the prahu, and desiring to make camp at a sufficient distance to keep my men in a tranquil state of mind, we went about two kilometres down the river and found a convenient camping-place in the jungle.

On two later occasions I visited the cave and its surroundings, becoming thoroughly acquainted with the whole mountain. The Penihings have an easy access to this primeval tomb, a little further below, by means of a path leading from the river through a comparatively open forest. The corpse in its box is kept two to seven days in the house at the kampong; the body of a chief, which is honoured with a double box, remains ten days. According to an otherwise trustworthy Penihing informant, funeral customs vary in the different kampongs of the tribe, and generally the box is placed on a crude platform a metre above the ground.

As for the orchid, I, as well as the Dayaks, who were shown an illustration of it, searched in vain for three days. There is no doubt that I was at the place which had been described to me, but the plant must be extremely rare and probably was discovered accidentally "near the water," as the native collector said, perhaps when he was resting.