A MONTH WITH THE DYAKS. 415 



only real ' sport ' I have yet bad in Borneo, and this is about the 

 chai-acter of it. 



" You ai-e going along, we will say, at the heels of yom- Dyak 

 guide, carrying your rifle in the hope of a shot at big game, while 

 the guide carries your double-barrelled gun. All at once you hear 

 a slight vocal sound and a profound rusthug in the thick branches 

 at the top of a tall tree, directly over your head. 



" ' Apa iai ? ' (What's that ?), you ask in a whisper. 



" ' Wah-wah, tuan ! ' (gibbons, sir !), says the guide in the same 

 tone. 



" You take the double-barrel, loaded with No. 1 shot, and peer 

 anxiously upward to catch sight of the animal. Ah ! there he is, 

 on the other side of the tree, and eridently ipaking ofif. You can- 

 not see his body on account of the leaves, so you steal quickly round 

 and get directly under him to give him a surprise with a charge of 

 shot. But by the time you get around he is apparently no longer 

 there, for you hear a nistling in a tree-top forty yards away, and at 

 last catch a glimpse of his lank, gray body as he swings himself out 

 of sight, without leaving you a second for a shot. Perhaps, though, 

 you blaze away at him, right and left, feel pretty sure you must 

 have stopped him, and watch anxiously while you hurriedly push in 

 fresh cartridges. 



" Ha ! not dead yet, for there he goes as lively as ever, this time 

 sixty yards away. You see him quite plainly this time, and note with 

 astonishment how rapidly he progi'esses by swinging himself end 

 over end, holding by his hands while he gives his body a long s^ing 

 toward another branch. His body becomes horizontal, he gi'asjDS 

 the branch with his feet, and, letting go with his hands, swings, 

 head downward and backward, until he comes right side again, 

 lets go with his feet and goes flying through the air to the next 

 branch. He grasps that with his hands, swings the other end of 

 himself forward again, and so on. You see that by this revolution- 

 ary method he goes just as well as if he had a head on each end of 

 his body, and that he gets along with astonishing rapidity and di- 

 rectness. 



"This will never do. He is about to get away from you, on fair 

 ground. You take your direction, stoop forward, and dart hurriedly 

 along in the direction the gibbon has taken. 



" You run a hundred yards at your best speed, and stop, ex- 

 pecting to find him directly over your head. Ha ! the branches 

 shake. There he is, fully fifty yards away ! Then you get mad, 



