has been reaped, and the rice
stored by the tribe. Clearly the Spirits stand in need of comfort for
the loss they have sustained, and the Sakai customs provide for such
emergencies. The house of the Chief or the Medicine Man--the largest hut
in the camp--is filled to the roof with the sodden green growths of the
jungle. The Sakai have trespassed on the domains of the Spirits, and now
the Demons of the Woods are invited to share the dwellings of men. Then,
when night has fallen, the Sakai, men, women, and little children, creep
into the house, stark naked and entirely unarmed, and sitting huddled
together in the darkness, under the shelter of the leaves and branches
with which the place is crammed, raise their voices in a weird chant,
which peals skyward till the dawn has come again.

No man can say how ancient is this custom, nor yet the beginnings in
which it had its origin. Does it date back to a period when huts and
garments, even of bark, were newly acquired things, and when the Sakai
suffered both ungladly after the manner of all wild jungle creatures?
Did they, in those days, cast aside their bark loin clothes, and revel
once more in pristine nakedness, and in the green things of the forest,
on all occasions of rejoicing? We can only speculate, and none can tell
us whether we guess aright. But year after year, in a hundred camps
throughout the broad Sakai country, the same ceremony is performed, and
the same ancient chant goes up through the still night air, on the day
which marks the bringing home of the harvest. The Malays call this
practice _ber-jermun_, because they trace a not altogether fanciful
resemblance between the sheds stuffed with jungle and the _jermun_ or
nest-like huts which wild boars construct for their shelter and comfort.
But although the Malays, as a race, despise the Sakai, and all their
heathenish ways, on the occasion of which I write, Kria, a man of their
nation, was present, and taking an active part in the demon-worship of
the Infidels.

What was he doing here, in the remote Sakai camp, herding naked among
the green stuff with the chanting jungle people? He was a Malay of the
Malays, a Muhammadan, who, in his sane moments, hated all who prayed to
devils, or bowed down to stocks and stones, but, for the moment, he was
mad. He had come up stream a few weeks before to barter with the forest
dwellers, and the flashing glance from a pair of bright eyes, set in the
pale yellow face of a slend