442 TWO TEARS I]^ THE JUXGLE. 



after removing about eight inches of warm sodden grass and earth 

 in a high state of fermentation we came to the eggs. They had 

 evidently, all been deposited at the same time, over the top of the 

 half-built mould, for they were disposed in a single layer. There 

 were fifty-five of them — an unusually large number for a crocodile 

 — and incubation had been in progress about ten days. 



I took thirty-two of the eggs, at three cents each, and the re- 

 mainder were eagerly purchased at the same price by the Malays 

 of the kampong, who ate them, notwithstanding the fact that each 

 egg contained a httle embryo crocodile. I was very anxious to 

 hatch a number of the eggs in order to watch the develoj^meut 

 of the embryo, and vainly offered five dollars for a setting hen or 

 duck to cover the eggs. I tried to hatch the eggs in warm sand, 

 but my going to Sarawak caused the failure of that j)lan also. I 

 am therefore only able to present a drawing of the embryo as we 

 fii'st found it. 



By this time (December 5th), I had eaten up all my provis- 

 ions, spent all my money and allotted time, and having made a 

 rich and valuable collection of what I most desired, I was ready to 

 move on. After dining for the last time with genial Mr. Walters, 

 I engaged passage for my two men and two mif.s, my collection 

 and myself in a Chinese trader's boat bound for Kuching. IVIi'. 

 Eng Quee gave me at parting a number of valuable ethnological 

 specimens which he had svu*reptitiously gotten together for my 

 benefit. 



I left the little kampong with keen regret, and have ever since 

 looked back upon it longingly. The days I spent on the Sa- 

 dong, the Simujan, at Padang Lake and the Sibuyau seem like a 

 strange, deHghtful dream of a sojourn in another world, where every 

 face and form and every object, animate and inanimate, was strange 

 and strangely interesting, and with the sweet there mingles no bit- 

 ter. It was a lotus-eater's life that I led for four delightful months, 

 free from the aggravations which beset all but jungle life. 



The deep, mellow boom of the big gong in the veranda of 

 the government house, on which the policemen struck the hours 

 with measured stroke, and its echo, rolling through the surround- 

 ing forest like a wave, will always sound in my ears. I love to 

 think that the hours are struck there now just the same. 



