318 THROUGH CENTRAL BORNEO 



of familiar objects. Several old men, now dead, had their 

 bodies, even their backs, legs, and faces, covered with 

 tatu marks, and one thus decorated was said still to be 

 living. 



Near the kampong Pendahara, where we camped the 

 first night, were many of the majestic tapang trees which 

 I first noticed on the Barito. In the calm evening after a 

 light shower, with the moon almost full, their tall stems 

 and beautiful crowns were reflected in the placid water. 

 The Katingans guard and protect these trees because 

 they are the abode of bees, and when the Malays cut them 

 down the Dayaks are indignant. Both honey and wax 

 are gathered, the latter to be sold. The nest is reached 

 in the customary manner by a ladder of sharpened bam- 

 boo pegs driven into the rather soft wood as the man 

 ascends. The gathering is done at night, an assistant 

 bearing a torch made of bark and filled with damar or 

 wax. The native first smears himself with honey in 

 order that the bees shall not sting him; when he reaches 

 the deposit a large bark bucket is hoisted up and filled. 

 In lowering it the honey sometimes disappears, my in- 

 formant said, because antoh is very fond of it. 



About noon, as we were passing a ladang near Bali, 

 we heard the beating of a gong, also weird singing by a 

 woman. It was evident that a ceremony of some kind 

 was in progress, probably connected with funeral observ- 

 ances, so I ordered a halt. As we lay by many people 

 gathered on the top of the steep bank. We learned that 

 an old woman had died and that the ceremonies were 

 being performed in her honour. I climbed the ladder and 



