344 THROUGH CENTRAL BORNEO 



and agile. Not until eight o'clock in the evening did we 

 reach our destination, the kampong Buntut Mangkikit. 

 In beautiful moonlight I put up my tent on the clearing 

 along the river bank in front of the houses, perhaps for 

 the last time in a long period. The roar of the rapids 

 nearly two kilometres distant was plainly audible and 

 soothing to the nerves, reminding me of the subdued 

 sound of remote waterfalls, familiar to those who have 

 travelled in Norway. However, the kiham at this 

 time was not formidable and comparatively few have 

 perished there, but many in the one below, which, though 

 lower in its fall and very long, is full of rocks. The 

 nights here were surprisingly cool, almost cold, and the 

 mornings very chilly. 



A Kahayan was the only person about the place who 

 could speak Malay. The kapala presented the unusual 

 spectacle of a man leaning on a long stick when walking, 

 disabled from wasting muscles of the legs. I have seen a 

 Lower Katingan who for two years had suffered in this 

 way, his legs having little flesh left, though he was able 

 to move. The kapala was a truthful and intelligent man 

 who commanded respect. His wife was the greatest of 

 the four blians here, all women; male blians, as usual, 

 being less in demand. Her eyes were sunk in their 

 sockets and she looked as if she had spent too many 

 nights awake singing, also as if she had been drinking 

 too much tuak. She had a staring though not unpleasant 

 expression, was devoted to her religious exercises, and 

 possessed an interesting personality. 



A majority of the women was disinclined to face the 



