THE ORANG-KAYA. 
149 
fited little from the opportunity he had of learn- 
ing in her kitchen. 
Two privileged persons — the old Orang-kaya or 
chief of the village, and Borie, the man with the 
jacket, who knows a little Malay — are permitted 
to come into the house when the lamp is lighted 
and the door barred against the crowd. Borie 
is thus favoured that he may be questioned about 
the customs, laws, and history, past and present, 
of his people. He is a striking-looking and hand- 
some savage, but I cannot quite like Borie. He 
can be such a sycophant when there is any hope 
of gin, and he has a cunning expression which 
makes me fight shy of any friendliness. The old 
Orang-kaya is an abject specimen of humanity. 
He sits — I mean crouches, none of them ever 
sit— gazing on us so meekly while the voluble 
Boiie discourses. The poor fellow has had his 
house burned in a recent fray and lost all lie had, 
and his wife was picked off from the palisade by 
a linking Kaleobar marksman. The Tenimber 
men always have a ball of tobacco between the 
teeth and lips, causing the latter to protrude 
greatly; ordinary speech is conducted without 
disturbing this obstruction. The utterance is 
thus rendered thick and indistinct ; but in ani- 
mated discussion tlie ball is removed and tucked 
