NORTH BORNEO. 
35 
We camped shortly before dark at a Murut village consisting of four or five small 
houses; the inhabitants were a most miserable half-starved lot of people, several deformed, 
and many suffering from bad sores. The Malay language is now no longer useful, the 
Murut not troubling himself to learn other tongues like the Orang Sungei, who can often 
speak four or five Bornean dialects. 
Here we met our friend the officer in charge of the Mempakol station, who for brevity 
we shall allude to in future as Mr. D., he having passed us in his lighter canoe shortly after 
our leaving Gadong. In the evening Mr. D. hoisted the Company’s flag on a high bamboo 
for the first time so far up the Padas River amidst (I suppose I must say) lusty cheers from 
the few Muruts assembled, who never cheer in our sense of the word, and probably had a 
very faint idea of what this ceremony portended. 
The house in which we passed the night was a tumble-down Murut dwelling, 
consisting inside of an open space in front of a few wooden stalls, the private apartments 
of the owners, who, like the Dusuns, live several families in one house. Mr. D., W. S., 
and myself occupied the open space or public apartment, where we passed an unpleasant 
night, the chief reason of our disturbed slumbers being the numerous Murut dogs, which 
are always present in native houses other than Mohammedans. These dogs kept up 
frequent fights between our mosquito-nets, round which they were prowling in hopes 
of picking up anything eatable, which in a Murut dog’s menu consists of boots and 
anything that has even a flavour of nourishment about it. The Muruts asked us for 
rat-poison, their crops, like those of the people lower down this river, being destroyed by 
these animals. 
After our evening meal we sat talking to our curious hosts, when a Murut outside 
began to play on a small reed-pipe. W. S., always to the fore, called him in, and began 
to try to play on the instrument in the usual way; but, after several attempts, no sound 
issued forth “ to calm the savage breast,” so he returned the pipe to the Murut musician 
and begged him to perform. Much to my surprise, and to the disgust of W. S., our 
musician took a small ball of tobacco from his girdle and proceeded to plug up one nostril; 
in the other he placed the pipe, and continued to play as before; this novel way of 
performing with a pipe no doubt deterred W. S. from further practice on native instru¬ 
ments. The Murut played really well; perhaps the flat open nostrils of these people are 
well suited for such a performance. 
9th June.—This morning we changed our prahu for two Murut canoes, as the rapids 
before us were impassable with anything else, and we left two of our boatmen with most 
of the provisions at the Murut village. We also hired a Murut as guide, but he proved 
utterly useless. About mid-day, after passing many rapids, we camped on a suitable open 
sandy spot, where we erected a small shelter. In the evening I shot several Fruit-Bats for 
our Murut guide, on which he made a good dinner. We hear Argus Pheasants crying out 
close to the camp in the mornings, for which our men set dozens of snares but never 
caught one. The hills run steeply down close to the river, making it most difficult to get 
about; the forest is dense and full of leeches. Our Murut led us over miles of mountains 
in search of imaginary Orang-Utans or Mias, as this animal is called by them, and as we 
were fools enough to follow him, several days were wasted in this unprofitable way; 
F 2 
