d from top to bottom with the
black and white feathers of the rhinoceros hornbill loosely attached
to it, and which flapping about with every movement of the wearer,
gives him the appearance of some huge bird. In addition to this cloak
is worn the waist-cloth, and a tight-fitting skull-cap of monkey skin,
with three enormous hornbill feathers stuck upright in it, completes
the costume. Armed, in addition to his spear, with Parang ilang and
shield (the latter ornamented with tufts of human hair), the Kayan
brave is ready for the war-path.

The Kayan war-dance is not danced (as is the Dyak) to a lively measure
of gongs and drums, a wind instrument being used constructed out of a
gourd and three short pieces of bamboo. This is called a _Kaluri_, and
although possessing but five separate notes in a minor key, the tone
is not unmusical, though very melancholy. The dance itself has a
history, the first part representing two warriors meeting on the
war-path. An exciting combat then ensues in which one is killed, and
the survivor is indulging in a solitary _pas de joie_, when he
suddenly discovers that he has by mistake killed his brother. He is
giving way to violent paroxysms of grief, when his relative, who had
been only severely wounded, suddenly rises, and a triumphant _pas de
deux_ brings the pantomime to a close. This performance lasted nearly
half an hour, and judging from the exertions of the dancers it must be
terribly fatiguing, for although a cool evening the perspiration
fairly poured off their bodies, and they fell exhausted on the ground
at the close of the performance.

Another dance succeeded this one, performed by two boys, apparently
each about thirteen years old, who went through it with surprising
grace. Although using full-sized Parangs and shields, they whirled
them round their heads with the greatest ease, for dancing, like
paddling, deer-snaring, and the use of the Parang ilang, are part of
the Kayan education.

A week passed pleasantly at Kapit, for each day brought us fresh
objects of interest. For the first two or three nights at the fort,
however, our sleep was much disturbed by what we imagined to be a dog
barking outside the fort. Thinking that one of the pariahs from the
adjoining houses had taken up his quarters there, I sat up for him one
night with a gun. At midnight, his usual hour, the noise recommenced,
but what was my surprise to find that it proceeded not from under the
fort, but from