son of this was shortly
evident--he had lost his way! Here was a pretty predicament to be
placed in, and a pleasant ending to our day's sport. All the stories I
had ever heard of natives going astray in the forest, and dying of
starvation, crowded into my mind with unpleasant clearness, and among
all the horrible deaths connected with Eastern travel that had
occurred to L. and myself, that of expiring like two amateur babes in
the wood had not been included.

I shall never forget the anxieties of that terrible hour, and the
blank faces of our guides as they waded backwards and forwards in
search of the lost trail, pausing ever and anon to give a sort of
melancholy wail, not unlike the Australian "co-o-o-ey," the cry of the
Dyak when lost in the forest. L. and I had almost given up all hope,
and were preparing to make up our minds to a night at least in the
jungle, when a cry from Bakar, who had strayed away to the left of us,
attracted our attention. He had struck upon the river! We were now
safe, and fortunately so, for it was nearly dark as, turning a bend of
the stream, we came in sight of our fires and the lamp of our little
craft shining over the water. Having arrived on board, we divested
ourselves of our now filthy clothes and plunged into the stream, when,
after a good rub with our rough towels, we felt ourselves again, and
quite ready to do justice to the very excellent curry that our "cordon
bleu" of a Kling had prepared for us.

The task of skinning the orang was next day relegated to Bakar, for
which we were thankful, as the smell that proceeded from his carcase
even at some distance off was fearful. This operation over, he was
stowed away in a barrel of arrack that we had brought for the
purpose, and we may dismiss him with the remark that he now adorns the
smoking-room of a friend of the writer's in England.

A suggestion of another hunt the following day by Bakar was politely
but firmly declined, and we left early the following afternoon at
five--our anchorage being in a very feverish locality. The halt for
the night was to be at a large Dyak house, fifteen miles down stream,
and half way to Sadong.

I would remark, for the benefit of sportsmen in general, that the
whole of the two days spent in this interesting locality we were
unable to leave the boat, owing to the swampy nature of the ground;
and as our only recreation consisted of two of Whyte Melville's works,
"The Gladiators" and "Digby Grand"