OUR RETURN JOURNEY 241 



There was no doubt that we were near a locahty much 

 dreaded by the natives; even before I gave a signal to 

 land, one of the Penihings, recently a head-hunter, be- 

 came hysterically uneasy. He was afraid of orang mati 

 (dead men), he said, and if we were going to sleep near 

 them he and his companions would be gone. The others 

 were less perturbed, and when assured that I did not 

 want anybody to help me look for the dead but for a rare 

 plant, the agitated man, who was the leader, also became 

 calm. 



We landed, but the soldier who usually waited upon 

 me could not be persuaded to accompany me. All the 

 Javanese, Malays, and Chinamen are afraid of the dead, 

 he said, and declined to go. Alone I climbed the steep 

 mountain-side; the ascent was not much over a hundred 

 metres, but I had to make my way between big blocks of 

 hard limestone, vegetation being less dense than usual. 

 It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when, from the 

 top of a crest which I had reached, I suddenly discovered 

 at no great distance, perhaps eighty metres in front of 

 me, a large cave at the foot of a limestone hill. With 

 the naked eye it was easy to distinguish a multitude of 

 rough boxes piled in three tiers, and on top of all a great 

 variety of implements and clothing which had been de- 

 posited there for the benefit of the dead. It made a 

 strange impression in this apparently abandoned coun- 

 try where the dead are left in solitude, feared and shunned 

 by their former associates. 



No Penihing will go to the cave of the dead except 

 to help carry a corpse, because many antohs are there 



