miles away on the other side of
the Goenoeng Malang, or Cross Mountain. This, of course, I did not know,
and so I set off cheerfully up the side of the mountain. Although it was
midday, the heat was not oppressive at this altitude (two thousand
feet), and I was clothed for the tropics. When an hour had passed and
there were still no signs of the plantation, I began to feel less
cheerful. I stopped and interrogated the cooly. He smiled blandly. _He_
at least was suffering from no misgivings. Like the young man in
"Excelsior," he pointed upwards. We met some natives; I accosted them
with "Mana Tji Wangi?" They too pointed up the mountain. At any rate, we
were travelling in the right direction. I noticed that the natives we
met behaved very differently from the saucy sadoe-drivers in the towns.
As we passed they stood on one side with their heads uncovered. When I
spoke to them, they squatted down and sat with their legs tucked up
under them and their hats off in a most uncomfortable way. I afterwards
learnt that these traditions of Oriental etiquette were preserved by the
Dutch and English planters in the interests of discipline. As the
plantations are often long distances apart, the Europeans have to rely
upon moral force to maintain their ascendency. Another half-hour passed
and still no signs of Tji Wangi. We had met no Europeans, and I was
beginning to get uneasy, when we came to a second inn.

Here I ordered a halt. The shade of the projecting roof was very
welcome. My eyes could not reach the dark interior, but they ranged
hungrily--I had eaten nothing since my early breakfast--over the
edibles laid out in front. There were fruits and cakes, little
messes of vegetables, dried fish, and other odd-looking delicacies
on plates. I decided on a big bunch of bananas. In payment I gave a
half-florin--worth rather less than a shilling of English money--and I
received in return quite a handful of silver and copper coins. I
concluded that bananas were not expensive in Java.

While I was eating my bananas, my cooly set to work to make a _pikulan_,
or shoulder-piece. He took a long bamboo and stripped off the leaves and
branches with his _gaulok_, a long knife which every native carries at
his waist. By the aid of this contrivance--borrowed from China--the
Javan natives carry burdens up to half a hundredweight without apparent
exertion for long distances. The spring of the bamboo eases the pressure
on the shoulder. On the same