De, A JOURNEY ON FOOT TO THE PATANI FRONTIER. 
kong, who, having got over his shyness at the presence of so many 
strangers, became most friendly and communicative. His stories of 
the Sakai tribes in the interior were as new to the Province Wel- 
lesley men as they were to me, and we sat listening for hours to 
descriptions of curious customs and wonderful adventures, tradi- 
tions of fabulous mines guarded by the wild tribes to which no 
Malay can gain access, and tales of Sakai medical skill and familiarity 
with the occult sciences. I puzzled the old man not a little by 
exhibiting a map of Ulu Perak (prepared a month or two before at 
Kwala Kangsa from native description) from which I read off 
the names of-kampongs, hills and rivers never yet visited by any 
European. I have an idea that he believed it to be directly refer- 
able to one of the many “ Sheitan,’ whom the English have at their 
command. 
March 31st. We had cultivated friendly relations with the 
people of the land, we had eaten buffalo and were satisfied. But 
there was one thing I wanted to do before we set our faces north- 
ward, and that was to visit Jambai which had been the temporary 
refuge’ of the old Sultan (Ismarn) and his patriarchal following of 
women and slaves. Another day’s detention was unavoidable, as 
Fram and his friends had not yet joined us, and I was expecting visits 
from some Perak Chiefs who were reported to be coming in to see 
me. So this day was devoted to sight-seeing. Sending on some of 
the men on foot along the river bank, I started up the river in a 
dug-out canoe poled by a Malay in the bow and steered by another 
in the stern. Haji AsvuBakaR was in another, assuming vast im- 
portance on the strength of having tempted the perils of the rapids 
once before, and explaining the modus operandi as if he had origin- 
ally designed the rapids of the Perak river for his private pastime. 
The anak jéram (children of the rapids), as the boatmen of this 
part of the world are called, standing in the bow, took us into mid- 
stream with a few vigorous strokes of their ight bamboo poles, and 
as we glided along against the current, I questioned the steersman 
about names and localities. He was to the full as fruitful in 
proper names of the places as my guide on the “ thirty-three hills.” 
Every pool, rock, bend, eddy had its title as my note-book bears 
witness, but they are not worth transcribing here. 
