SEA TRAGEDY OF THE JUNGLE FOLK 147 
about the capture of the orang-outangs and the 
death of the crocodile. The stories had improved 
with age, and so I told him what had actually hap- 
pened. 
“Mahommed Munshee has been waiting here for 
you to get well,” said the doctor. “I think he’d like 
to see you—if you don’t mind.” 
Munshee came in, beaming with delight. Tak- 
ing my hand and pressing it to his forehead, he 
told me that only one chosen by “God and Prophet” 
could recover from the fever and the sickness 
caused by the paw of an orang-outang. All of the 
villagers, he said, had been making offerings to the 
different deities for my recovery, and the people 
would be happy to hear that Tuan was well again. 
I told him that I would return with him to Omar’s 
kampong within two weeks, and he left, promising 
to come for me. 
The days at Dr. Van Erman’s house passed 
quickly and pleasantly. I found him a thoroughly 
fine man, as well as a fine doctor, and I enjoyed his 
companionship. Under his care I rapidly threw 
off the fever, and my leg healed so that I could get 
about with little difficulty. The ankle had been dis- 
located by the grip of the orang-outang’s paw, and 
the tendons badly strained. 
By the time Mahommed Munshee came for me, 
I was quite ready to go up the river. I had seen 
enough of the country to know that the jungles were 
full of animals, and I wanted to capture as many 
