THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



141 



Since the seasons so near the equator 

 are not at all sharply distinguished by 

 changes in the weather, it is necessary 

 to make use of some astronomical means 

 of determining the proper time for plant- 

 ing rice, for it must be growing during 

 the rainy season. 



THE STARS GUIDE NATIVES IN PLANTING 



Some tribes make the determination 

 by noting the day when the Pleiades is 

 first visible just before the sun rises. 

 Among other tribes the wise men make 

 what amounts to an altitude measure- 

 ment of the sun at noon. Two poles, 

 decorated with carvings, are used ; one 

 is erected vertically in level ground ; the 

 other is used to measure the length of 

 the shadow of the vertical pole at noon ; 

 when this shadow has attained a certain 

 length, the proper time has come. 



Still other tribes fix the day by the al- 

 titude of a particular star or constella- 

 tion when it can first be seen after sun- 

 set ; this altitude is indicated by filling a 

 bamboo pipe with water, pointing it at 

 the star, and observing the new level of 

 the water when the bamboo is again held 

 vertical. 



Kebing once asked me what the sky is 

 made of — if of rock — and was much dis- 

 gusted with my rather inaccurate reply, 

 that it wasn't anything. "But you can 

 see there is something there." 



One of the difficulties of the Resident 

 is to keep familiar with the names of his 

 Kayan people, for their names are always 

 changing. For example, if Kebing mar- 

 ries and has a son whose name is Soring, 

 his own name will become Tama Soring 

 Kebing — "Tama" meaning "father of" — ■ 

 and he will be referred to frequently by 

 the abbreviated title Tama Soring. If 

 Kebing's wife dies, he will be known as 

 Aban Kebing ; if his first child dies, 

 Oyong Kebing, and so on, with several 

 other possible titles. He will end as Laki 

 Kebing, grandfather Kebing. The diffi- 

 culty is, that it is an important matter 

 of etiquette always to address a man by 

 his proper title. 



THE EXCURSION TO MT. MUIyU 



About 35 miles to the east of Claude- 

 town the peak of Mt. Mulu, 9,000 feet 

 high, lying between the basins of the 



Limbang and Baram rivers, can be seen 

 on a clear day. On the sides of the 

 mountain rise the sources of the Milanau 

 River, which empties into the Tutau 

 River, and thence into the Baram, and 

 furnishes a means of approach to the 

 mountain. 



The sides of the mountain are formed 

 of precipitous limestone cliffs, while not 

 the least of the difficulties in making an 

 ascent is to persuade any natives to ac- 

 company an explorer, for they believe 

 that such places are the abode of the most 

 malignant evil spirits. In 1858 Sir Spen- 

 cer St. John attempted the ascent, but was 

 prevented by impassable barriers from 

 reaching an altitude of more than 3,500 

 feet (see pages 150-153). 



The country about Mulu is very thinly 

 inhabited and the jungle is old growth, 

 so that it was with keen anticipation that 

 I started one morning early in June for 

 a visit to the headwaters of the Milanau 

 River. 



For the first day the Resident placed 

 the launch at my disposal, which made it 

 possible by towing my native boat, or 

 prau, to make rapid progress up the 

 Baram and Tutau rivers, spending the 

 night comfortably at the house of a 

 Malay trader. 



The trader had fastened some logs to- 

 gether and moored them to the shore, 

 forming a small landing stage with a little 

 shed, where one could bathe without 

 danger from crocodiles. 



As the launch swung in toward the 

 landing, the current caught the bow, and 

 for a moment it seemed that we should 

 strike the log with considerable force ; 

 whereupon a Malay on the landing cried 

 out, "Don't run into the iceberg." Thus 

 had the story of the Titanic, incredible 

 to the tropical people, spread far into 

 Borneo. 



The next morning, bidding good-by to 

 my Kayan friends from Long Palei, who 

 were to be taken part of their journey 

 on the launch further up the Baram 

 River, I made an early start in the prau, 

 accompanied by my Chinese cook, Ah 

 Jun, two Malays, and three Dayaks to 

 act as my boat crew. 



One of my Malays was suffering from 

 korup, a horrid skin disease that covers 

 the body with dry, gray scales ; he was 



