AMONG THE ORANG-UTANS. 355 



and rolled up, or partly opened and made to stand up, tent-wise, 

 when it forms the very best kind of roof for such a climate. 



"We started up early in the afternoon with the flood tide, and 

 paddled along at good speed very comfortably. For the first ten 

 or twelve miles the Dyaks have cleared away the jungle on both 

 sides of the river for a hundi-ed yards back, and grow their 

 crops of "paddi " (rice) there. At that time of the year (August) 

 the clearings were all overgrown with rank grass four feet high. 

 About eight miles above Simujan we came to a tyi^ical village of 

 the Sea Dyaks, and halted to pay it a visit. It stands on the left 

 bank of the river, quite near the stream, and, from the river, one 

 sees only the end of a house, with its single door and a long, gray, 

 moss-patched roof running far back, in ragged lines of perspective, 

 toward the jungle. The lower part of this structure is almost en- 

 tirely concealed by the broad-leaved banana-trees which grow 

 closely around it. 



The view from the top of the bank discloses, not a collection of 

 houses, but one immense house, one hundred and ninety feet long 

 and thirty feet wide. It stands on a small forest of round posts, 

 five or six inches in diameter, set firmly in the ground, and the floor 

 is ten feet above the ground. At either end is a door, to which 

 there leads up a small tree-trunk, cut on the uj^per side into notches, 

 which serve as steps. Four rows of posts, the two outer and two 

 middle rows, run up through the floor to the roof, and the rest are 

 cut off at the floor. 



What is really the back wall of this long village house leana 

 outwai-d rapidly as it rises fi-om the floor, and is without either 

 door or window. The front is entirely open all the way along» 

 and the floor extends out thirty feet farther on additional posts, 

 forming a convenient open-aii' platfonn for drying rice and other 

 jungle produce. The ground underneath the house — it is much 

 more like a house than a village — is damp, wet, httered and du'ty, 

 and smells feverish. 



We climbed the notched tree-trunk at the end of the house and 

 entered. A delegation of mostly naked men, women, and children 

 met us at the door, with here and there a " Tabet, tuan ! " (Good 

 day, sir ! ) in friendly greeting. Directly two or three women 

 appeared with clean mats, which they spread upon the floor so 

 that a considerable space was covered, and we all sat down. Mr. 

 Eng Quee opened a conversation vdih. the old men, our Malays 

 talked with the young men, and the women and children flocked 



