A JOURNEY ON FOOT TO THE PATANI FRONTIER. 29 
and pillaged by C= Karim’s men in January ; another had rela- 
tives in captivity at Salama, and there was a general wail over the 
exactions of the Perak Malays of Chigar Gala, whose devices for 
extorting supplies of rice from the Patani planters seemed to be 
conceived, with more talent than honesty. I counid do little for 
them then, but promised enquiry and redress at some future time. 
Eram unfolded the details of the route we were to pursue, and 
promised the services of three other guides and some coolies. So 
the day ended hopefully, and lighted by the Mandheling sentry, 
I picked my way over the bodies of sleeping Malays to my ham- 
mock. 
It requires practice to be able to sleep ina Malay hut of the 
humbler sort if the lodgers be numerous and the entertainer’s 
family large. All kinds of sounds conspired to “ murder sleep”’ 
on this particular night, a middle aged bowrdon snore imported, I 
think, by our own party. an intermittent infantile wail, a purely 
local production, and expostulation, coaxing at first but ending in 
wrath, of sleepy matrons ; then somebody got up in the middle of 
the night and said his prayers aloud, and the man on guard crooned 
little songs to himself. Never was daylight more welcome. 
April 2nd. Detentionat Lunggong being unavoidable, the only 
thing to do was to see something of the country ; the people of 
the place took me in the morning to Bukit Kajang, the limestone 
range which had attracted my attention the day before. These 
limestone hills occur in several parts of Perak and are generally 
honey-combed with caves and peopled by bats. We had to pass 
through a belt of low dark jungle, where everything was very damp 
and earthy, before reaching the foot of the hill and the mouth of 
the first cave. The latter was not of great extent, but a number 
of narrow dark passages branched off from it. In exploring these. 
our torches set in motion dozens of bats, which flitted along the 
low galleries just over our heads. ‘he Malays pointed out one 
or two curious stalagmites, which they had honoured with names. 
One, | remember. bore a rough resemblance to the shape of a 
crocodile. 
Then we went higher up the hill to a second range of galleries 
bearing the poetical name Goah Putri, or the “Cave of the 
