BY MOTOR THROUGH THE EAST COAST OF SUMATRA 



9; 



better than above, as well as traversing 

 a more wooded and much prettier coun- 

 try. There were, to be sure, two narrow 

 rain-soaked cuts where the water had not 

 run off, through which the car barely 

 succeeded in struggling ; but _ the high- 

 land roads had made us indifferent to 

 anything short of being permanently 

 mired. 



A MEETING OF BATAK AND MALAY 



HEADMEN 



We made further stops at two other 

 diminutive compounds. In Poerba Dolok, 

 as at Kinalang, the women were weaving 

 sarongs and pounding rice ; at Pematang 

 Rajah there was a market, and a meeting 

 of Batak and Malay headmen — gor- 

 geously dressed, with huge golden but- 

 tons in their jackets, finely wrought 

 bracelets around their arms, and kris 

 with beautifully carved hilts stuck into 

 the brilliant sashes at their waists. 



As we left this picturesque group and 

 drove slowly on, a bamboo chair swung 

 high on the shoulders of four bearers 

 appeared hurriedly up the road, and from 

 it, as we passed, a wife of one of the 

 chiefs gazed curiously down at our un- 

 familiar equipage. 



Shortly behind her, preceded by dire 

 shrieks, three men in equal haste to reach 

 the market came trotting around a cor- 

 ner, each carrying two live black pigs 

 tightly bound in split bamboo and pro- 

 testing volubly, as they were swung at 

 the ends of the shoulder poles. 



We ran over a swampy road, gradually 

 working upward, across a desolate, grass- 

 covered plain. Only a few mountains 

 dim in the distance gave any sense of 

 limit to the rolling plateau, and except 

 for the swift-flying wild pigeons, a few 

 of which I shot to add variety to our 

 larder, there was nowhere any sign of 

 life. 



Dark, ominous clouds bore down upon 

 us as we splashed over the soft level 

 stretches, skidded down short, slippery 

 descents, and labored on the upgrades 

 among the holes and crevasses of deep 

 washouts. 



In one place the road was evidently 

 being lowered, and for several hundred 

 yards more than half of it had been cut 



away, leaving a shelf on one side too nar- 

 row to drive on, and on the other a six- 

 foot trench which was simply a morass 

 of mud and water. As the shelf was 

 quite impossible, I chose the trench, 

 started up it with a rush, and promptly 

 stuck fast. 



No efforts could move the car in either 

 direction. The sticky clay formed solid 

 disks about the flying wheels, completely 

 hiding tire-chains and rope under its 

 smooth yellow coating. 



After an hour of unavailing labor, 

 Joseph and I abandoned the effort to 

 extricate the machine, and as darkness 

 was rapidly falling we held a hurried 

 consultation to determine what should be 

 done. It was finally decided to desert 

 the car and attempt to flounder through 

 the mud to the nearest native village. It 

 was a desperate decision, but the only 

 alternative was a night in the car. 



Detaching one of the side lamps, 

 whose fitful rays would enable us to 

 avoid the deepest pools of water, the 

 three of us began the sliding, splashing 

 tramp. 



About a mile beyond where the car 

 was entombed we came to a cut, and at 

 its edge the dull rays of another lantern 

 showed half a dozen natives putting away 

 some tools in a little shed. Joseph and I 

 immediately scrambled over to question 

 them. Only one spoke Malay ; the others 

 were part of his gang of road laborers — 

 an evil-looking lot. 



I was surprised at finding human be- 

 ings there, and, feeling consequent mis- 

 givings over the security of our aban- 

 doned car and luggage, I asked the man 

 in charge if he or one of his men would, 

 for a suitable consideration, spend the 

 night in an automobile about a mile down 

 the road, to guard it from being molested 

 during my absence. To my astonishment 

 he promptly refused, and, asking the 

 question in turn of his men, met with 

 immediate negatives. 



THE NATIVES' DREAD OE TIGERS 



I could not account for their unwilling- 

 ness. The cushions of the tonneau would 

 surely afford as comfortable quarters as 

 any they were accustomed to ; it could 

 not be the storm of which men of the 



