178 An Orang Hunt in Borneo 



week I was seized with a annoying- combination of fever and 

 articular rheumatism. For a couple of days I stayed in camp, 

 but the third day, feeling no better, I decided to go out in the 

 boat, believing that recovery would come as quickly while being 

 paddled about over the swamp, as it would lying on a platform 

 of poles three feet above it. We took one of the small branches 

 of the river and paddled along until past noon, without seeing 

 anything. Then the order to return was given and we started 

 back. An hour later as I was lying flat on my back, wondering 

 how much more quinine it would require to conquer that fever, 

 and wishing for an ounce or two of salicylate of soda for the 

 rheumatism, I was aroused by the man in the bow of the boat, 

 who cautiously whispered, ''Mias Tuan, mias bazar" (an orang, 

 sir, a big orang). The boat was cautiously stopped as I arose 

 to a sitting position and grasped my rifle. Sure enough, there 

 fifty yards down the stream was a large animal working his 

 way through a dense thicket of screw pines that was between the 

 forest and the channel. He had sighted us and slowly, and 

 apparently without fear, was making his way towards the jun- 

 gle. He was partially concealed by the thicket, so we dropped 

 down the stream so as to get on the other side of him before 

 he could gain the large trees of the jungle proper. We came 

 in sight of him again, just as he was getting into the branches 

 of the first large tree. For a moment we stopped and gazed 

 at each other. What a monster! A face over twelve inches 

 wide, a huge chest and broad shoulders, and arms having a 

 reach of over eight feet from tip to tip. He growled and showed 

 his long canine teeth, just as I raised my Winchester and 

 fired. Slowly one leg dropped, then the other, then one hand 

 loosened its firm grasp of the limb above, and for a moment 

 he hung there by one long hairy arm. Then the other hand 

 slowly relaxed its firm hold and down he came with a great 

 splash. A few minutes later and not without much trouble, 

 we had in our boat one of the largest orang-outangs ever killed. 

 He weighed 151 pounds and was a prize in every way. 



Usually it is not very dangerous sport hunting the orang- 

 outang, as the living animal - almost never comes to the ground 

 and is quite helpless when it does. It is perfectly at home in 

 the treetops, swinging along from tree to tree with^the greatest 

 ease. One seldom meets with more than one at a time. Some- 



