29 
have been rather risky to camp in a Batak village, but now, said 
Mr. T #f it is perfectly safe. Tf At least, ff he added, ?f I hope you 
won f t be cooked and eateiiSxitKX The Bataks are only one genera- 
tion removed from cannibalism. 
Mr. T. had written to the Rajah that we were coming, and had 
asked him to send porters. No porters were in sight, and we 
began to commandeer some from the neighborhood. There was trouble, 
for the rice was being harvested, and all the men were busy in the 
fields. Just when we were wondering what to do next, we saw a 
sturdy crew hurrying down the road, and cheers went up - the 
Rajah 1 s men had come after all. Ever 37- thing we had was tied into 
bundles, and the bundles slung onto stout bamboo poles. With ten 
bearers ahead of us, and the son of the Ra j a h of Siantar as 
guide and interpreter, we started off. For some distance the path 
was wide, fairly level, and sandy - easy going. It was not long 
before we were in sight of real jungle, steep mountain sides covered 
with enormous trees and thick undergrowth ♦ The path led down hill 
a great deal of the way, and as we went farther aj-ong the trail 
grew wilder and wilder. We had to cross little mountain streams 
on slippery logs, and walk along the edge of cliffs where most 
of the sandy path had been washed away by rain. In the distance 
we heard siamangs dismally proclaiming that it was about to rain 
again. When we finally got on a trail that led through dense woods 
Bill began to collect insects, and found some very interesting 
specimens. One was Polyrachus upsilon, an ant with a spine on its 
back like the Greek letter that gives it its name. Another was 
a Myrmecine ant that makes a carton nest - a habit which as far 
as Bill knows, has never been reported. The nests as six or 
eight inches long, about half as broad, and are built on the under 
side of long flat leaves. I grew very excited about a black 
orchid that I found in a damp and shady spot - deep purplish black 
in color, and with long, fringe-like stamens. 
The path led up the mountain side again as we approached the 
karnpong. The first sign of civilization was that the weeds had. 
been cut and the path cleared in our honor. Then we saw rice 
drying on a curious vertical rack - evidently tied onto a. framework 
that was fifteen feet high and perhaps twenty feet long, in little 
bunches close together, so that it looked like a thatched wall of 
yellow grain. 
Just before we entered the village Mrs. Coenraad wrinkled 
up her nose and said r Ugh! I smell durian." Close to the path was 
a huge durian tree, and near it a small shelter, where a group of 
natives were sitting waiting for the fruit to drop. They never 
cut the fruit from the tree, perhaps because there is no way of 
telling when it is ripe, but spend the day watching for the durians 
to fall. . Ms they are heavy, and covered with spikes half an inch 
long, it would be dangerous to be hit on the head by one, - hence 
the roofed-over platform where they squat and watch. I wanted to 
get one, as I have heard such conflicting reports as to the good- 
ness of this native fruit, but a small signboard proclaimed in 
both Malay and Batak that this ±jna±± was the Rajah 1 s personal tree 
and no one could have the fruit thereof except himself. Over the 
sign was hung half a palm leaf, with the fronds falling downward - 
the local tabu sign. 
Men, women and children, dogs, cats, pigs and chickens, 
