A third consisted in walking slowly and placing one foot pointing outwards somewhat to the side, the other foot is brought up to it, the moving foot being stamped twice before coming to a halt. In a variant of this the whole body is alternately turned to the right and to the left. The regular double stamping forms a pleasing feature.
In a fourth dance a backward and forward “goose step” was made, touching the ground with the heel, but without shifting the position. Then two forward steps were taken. At one interval the body was turned to the right, at the next to the left, and so on alternately.
In the dance that followed one step was taken at a time, bringing up the other to it, with the sole dragging along the ground. The string of dancers moved forward in a serpentine course.
In the “Bird Dance” there was only a slight movement forwards, the feet tapped the ground, and the arms were moved in an angular manner up and down and backwards and forwards.
The performance concluded with a war dance by a single man dressed in a war coat decorated with hornbills’ feathers, and wearing a long-plumed war cap. First he danced without his weapons, then he picked up his shield, and later his parang. The dance consisted of a series of indescribable crouching, jumping, squirming movements, in which the approved positions or attitudes of actual warfare were blended with the gyratory motions and posturing of more ordinary dancing. Crouching on the ground with war coat trailing behind and brandishing his shield in front, the warrior turned, or rather hopped like an amorous cock-sparrow, first to one side and then to the other, as if warding off blows from an unseen adversary; then as if perceiving an advantage he would leap to his feet and take the initiative.
The numerous and rapid graceful movements, the finely harmonising colours of the buff skin, the ruddled shield, the black and tawny clouded tiger’s skin coat and red loin cloth, and the bold contrast of the white and black feathers of the hornbill, lit up by blazing fire and yellow flickering lamps against a dim background of eager semi-nude natives and spaces of outer darkness, made a fascinating picture of savagery, in which the beauty of dextrous movement with harmony and contrast of colour were combined with the deeply seated human passion for combat and bloodshed.
We returned down the Lobong and again ascended the narrowing Tinjar, and negotiated several rapids, one of which Hose has named after Ray. On one occasion we had to wait a couple of hours in a sheltered spot by the bank of the river, as the water suddenly rose and the force of the current was too strong for our crew to paddle against it.
The scenery was very pretty, the rushing water passing between low wooded hills, which were occasionally more or less cleared for padi. A few birds flew across the river, and numerous gorgeous butterflies flitted in the sunlight, and vermilion-bodied dragon flies darted in quest of their prey. Tropical vegetation is perhaps seen at its best along the banks of rivers, as the trees and bushes have full light and air on one side, and more variety is seen in foliage and tints; but here, as elsewhere in the tropics, there is a general absence of brightly coloured or conspicuous flowers.
Our next stopping-place was at Long Dapoi, a village that, as its name implies, is situated where the Dapoi joins the Tinjar.