ch. v. A Useless "Guide." 91 



colour. As many as twenty buds were counted in a 

 cluster, but the flowers expanded one at a time. We 

 crossed the river, which nowhere exceeded our knees in 

 height, and pushed on up the next hill. The mist was 

 gathering thick and white in the valleys, and it began to 

 rain in torrents. In a very few minutes the path up the 

 hill-side became a brook, and the rain beat in our faces 

 so that we could scarcely see our wa}\ Added to this 

 inconvenience was the thought that we might not be in 

 the right track, and of this our worthy "guide," Pangeran 

 Raman, could tell us nothing. He was a very good fair- 

 weather traveller, and the biggest man in our party when 

 all was well around a good camp fire ! At a pinch, when 

 most wanted, he was perfectly useless — indeed, in the 

 way. I am afraid I did not pity him as he stood shiver- 

 ing in the cold, and begging piteously of us to return to 

 a miserable little hut beside the river for the night. This 

 was out of the question, as we had not a dry thread on us 

 and no food, so I pushed up the hill to reconnoitre. 

 Just at the top I met a Dusun man who had come from 

 Bungol, and who was going to Kalawat, and when Mr. 

 Veitch and the old Pangeran came up, we induced the 

 native to return with us to Bungol. We now felt more 

 at ease, and splashed down the hill-side merrily, and 

 after crossing the Tawaran four times, in one place nearly 

 to our necks, we reached the cocoanut-crested hill on which 

 the village of Bungol stands. Our "boys" had lagged 

 behind and only reached the houses just before night-fall, 

 having been mainly guided by the accidental discharge of 

 our guns, which we had let off in order to dry them soon 

 after our arrival. Our guide had brought us to his own 

 house, and we soon had a good fire, and took off our wet 

 clothes, after which we sat by the fire clad in native 

 sarongs which our host lent us. We soon wrung out our 



