The large house in which we stayed is big enough to accommodate five or six families, and the large common room, which extends from end to end, will hold twenty or thirty men and their baggage quite comfortably, having three or four hearth-stones for fires at intervals. It stands on a grassy knoll just at the entrance to the village, and the group of pinang and cocoa-nut palms on the lower side give to it quite a picturesque appearance. All over this district tree-ferns are very beautiful, especially so in the valleys and glades which exist up among these cool hills. Every now and then the traveller comes upon whole groves of them, and solitary groups exist even in the cultivated ground. So sweetly fresh and green are they, and quite distinct in form and tint from all surrounding vegetation, indeed, these feathery tree-ferns, and the tall clustering wands of bamboo, form the most distinctive features of the landscape. We at length bade our friends good-bye, and the whole village came to the knoll above the stream to see us start, and the girls were especially interested and begged of us to come again and bring them some needles, looking-glasses, and cloth.
Coming down the hill-side cornfields from Kiau I saw here and there patches of cotton (Gossypium barbadense), and a delicate pink-flowered variety of tobacco was in bloom, and being supported by stakes, were perhaps left for seed. On the steep side of the opposite hill are numerous little farms, and on each you see a tiny flat-topped bamboo-hut which is used for shelter and rest during field labour. The soil is a reddish friable loam, thickly sprinkled with large sandstone boulders and stones; while in the lower plains and valleys is a deep black deposit which under irrigation yields splendid crops of rice. Under European protection and management, aided by systematic Chinese coolie labour, the virgin tracts on these hill ranges might be worked with advantage in the production of coffee and cinchona. Once fairly started, and with improved roads, this district would possess many attractions, not the least being a comparatively cool and salubrious climate. At elevations of 3,000 to 5,000 feet a cool bracing air is readily obtainable, indeed, as suggested by Mr. Low, the Marie Parie spur would form a capital site for a sanatorium of the utmost value to Europeans. At higher elevations a really cool climate, almost European, in fact, is obtainable. To bring this fertile district into cultivation and to form anything like good roads, however, would be a task Herculean, and one only to be accomplished by an immense expenditure of labour and capital. The system employed by the natives in clearing their new farms is to fell the trees and then to burn them during the dry season. The old stumps are left, and to prevent the rich earth and forest débris from being washed away by heavy rains, logs are laid against these horizontally all down the steep shoulders of the spurs. Land newly cleared yields splendid crops of hill or dry rice, maize, kaladi, tobacco, sweet potato, and other crops. There is very little primitive forest on these lower hill ranges and spurs, nearly all the land not now actually under culture being fallow, in the shape of low jungle. The only really virgin forest is the tops of the hills beyond Kiau and the spurs of Kina Balu itself on the south and east sides. On our way to Koung to-day we had a lot of trouble owing to the swollen and rapid state of the river, which we crossed no less than thirteen times. All along our way we saw little torrents of muddy water pouring into the river from the hill-sides. The two last times we had to cross the stream previous to our reaching the regular ford at the entrance to Koung village were really very dangerous, and I shudder when I think of the surging torrents we crossed, and of the large treacherous boulders, water-worn and as smooth as ice, which lay hidden in their beds.
I rode my buffalo: Smith walked and clung to the ropes which held the saddle. The banks of the stream were overflowed so that we could not tell exactly the proper place to cross. My buffalo was a brave and careful animal, and must have been possessed of immense power, seeing how she carried me and dragged poor Smith over safely. I shall never forget our last crossing. We had missed the proper place to ford without our knowing it. The place we had chosen to cross was, as we afterwards found, a succession of smooth boulders and deep holes. The buffalo had to feel its way, and when in mid-stream, unluckily, set its feet on a boulder. Splash we went, all over together, into a deep hole. Ugh! how I did shiver as I sank to my neck with the buffalo submerged beneath me. As we rose again I glanced around and thought for a moment poor Smith had gone. In a moment, however, he rose to the surface of the stream, where he lay extended grasping the ropes of the saddle with one hand at arm’s-length, and gasping for breath. All the time we were being carried down stream, and bravely as the plucky buffalo struggled her feet continually slipped on the loose pebbles below. “Hold on, Smith!” I gasped, as splash we all went over another gigantic boulder, and the water surged up to my ears although on the back of the beast. I clung like a sailor in a gale. Fortunately for us the buffalo regained her footing, and clearing the current by a great effort she carried me and dragged poor old Smith up the bank Koung-wards. “That’s a narrow squeak, old boy,” I said, but Smith was too exhausted to answer as he tottered and staggered to a seat on a stone lying near. I also was glad to rest, and although thankful for our merciful escape, I could scarcely look sober as I glanced at Smith, who was as white as a ghost, and staggered like a drunken man.
“Well,” said he, when he had recovered his breath, “it’s all very well laughing, but you don’t catch me crossing in that way again.”
And in justice to his veracity I must own that I never did, for he avoided me and the beast at crossings ever afterwards. Arriving at the ford at Koung a young Dusun came and assisted Smith over, the water being very high and rising every minute. He then recrossed and led over my buffalo, who a few minutes afterwards once more regained her liberty on the green, while we, as usual, took up our quarters with “Lapayang” in his bamboo-house. He and his people were surprised at our having got across the river to-day, and pointed to where it was rushing and foaming a yard higher than its usual current. Smith lost his stick and some plants he was carrying for me, and his rifle, too, would have gone had it not been strapped to his back. No one can possibly understand the danger of these swollen torrents who has not had personal experience of them. Once off one’s feet in the surging stream, running seven or eight miles an hour at the least, one’s life would inevitably be dashed away on the boulders and jagged rocks which occur every few yards. Adventures of this kind look tame when calmly written down after all danger is past, and when read by a comfortable fireside, but they are really very real and exciting when one is undergoing them in person. A little later we were surprised by “Suong” and my “boy,” poor little “Kimjeck,” who came in looking as miserable as drowned rats. They had avoided the dangerous fords by coming along the hill-path beside the river, but my other fellows refused to come on, and took shelter from the rain in some Dusun huts midway.
“Lapayang” received us kindly, as usual, and gave us a fowl and some rice, and lent us some cooking pots. Another villager brought us eggs and a cluster of fine golden bananas—I never tasted more delicious ones—so that we dined well after all our mishaps. After dinner our host brought us in a couple of fine large tarippe fruit, just at a time when dessert was least expected; we deserved it, however, and enjoyed it accordingly. I think I never felt so fatigued before in my life, my feet and legs were sore, and the exertion of the descent yesterday, and the falls I had, made me ache all over. Added to this, my skin from head to foot was covered with irritable red eruptions, caused by a minute red parasite of acaroid nature, which my men told me came off the buffalo on which I had ridden. As we sat smoking after dinner we heard the rain falling very heavily, and it lasted most of the night. The troubles of the day are ended, and we have cause to be grateful for our preservation from its dangers.
August 20th.—It was at first very wet this morning, but an hour after sunrise it cleared up and the sun shone beautifully. Our laggards came in about eight o’clock, just as we finished our breakfast of fowl and rice. There are plenty of fine cocoanut trees here, and one can obtain fine fruit. “Kurow” overtook us here this morning, having, together with his little daughter and another girl, walked from Kiau since daybreak. They are going on to Kambatuan, he tells me, to trade, and the girls have baskets of tobacco on their backs. We bought some cocoanuts and paid our host “Lapayang.” He particularly wanted some powder and caps for his musket, and these we gave him, together with a handkerchief or two, and looking-glasses for his sisters, two fine girls, both married to young men of the village.
We started for Kambatuan after all our men had arrived, and “Kurow” accompanied us. Altogether we had a day’s rough work, two of the crossings being shoulder high and very rapid, so that only I and the buffalo could cross, and the men and Smith had to follow the windings of the river a much longer distance over rough ground, for the most part covered with coarse grasses and jungle. It rained heavily at intervals, and we did not reach the foot of Kambatuan hill much before dusk; and after half an hour’s climbing up a path like a drain, sometimes stony, sometimes of slippery yellow clay, we reached the village in a regular downpour. Nowhere else in Borneo have I seen such groves of “tarippe” trees as surround this village. When we last visited “Kina Balu” in December, “langsat” fruit was in season, and met with at nearly all the Tawaran villages. Now, in August, the “tarippe,” rich and luscious, is most abundant, and now and then a coarse brown fruit, something like a horse-mango, is obtained, and is agreeable for a change. The perfume of the ripe “tarippe” fruit was most cheering to ourselves and our men, and almost as soon as we had got off our wet garments, and put on dry ones, a dusky maiden appeared with four large fruit in her plump little arms. She was dressed à la mode Dusun, and had wire wristlets, and a heavy wire anklet an inch thick, which must have weighed two or three pounds, around her left leg. A younger child brought us some fine plump bananas, which we found to be rich and luscious as new honey, leaving an aroma in the mouth like that produced by ripe filberts and old dry port.
We had a large concourse of the villagers in to see us this evening after dinner, including “Beuhan,” the headman, who wears a head-cloth and kriss, and in general build and physiognomy resembles the Sulus much more than either Dusun or Malays. “Kurow” was the principal talker, and related all that we had done and how much he had helped us in ascending the mountain. The young girls crowded to see us, and tried hard to get speech with us. We had given the girls who brought us fruit a looking-glass each, and we could quite well understand that all were eager for a similar gift. They were very, very scantily clad; indeed the most tolerant of Lord Chamberlains might well wish to add an inch or two to their tiny petticoat, especially as ’tis the only garment of which they can boast. It answers somewhat to the American definition of a dress “which began too late and left off too soon.” Here, however, it is the customary fashion, and as such is honoured. How graceful were the figures of some of these young girls! Perfect little Amazons, lithe of limb and having regular features, eyes full of gentle expression, and a richness of raven hair most European ladies might envy. It is pleasant to know that these dusky girls, lovely as some of them are, will never be degraded to anything worse than field labour, which is a far better lot than that of their Malayan sisters along the coast, whose personal charms chance to be interesting. We found out later on in the evening that the pretty damsel who had first brought us fruit was the headman’s daughter, “Sa’ Tira” by name. Most of the evening she knelt by the fire, her dainty little fingers busily making cigarettes for her papa’s guests, many of whom had arrived from other villages near to look at us. Altogether we spent a very pleasant evening with these hospitable people, and we have no doubt but that they will long look back to our visit themselves, seeing that whole months frequently elapse without their seeing anyone from the coast even, much less a white man or two from far-off Labuan.
August 21st.—Our buffalo had wandered from her moorings during the night, and so we lost some time in finding her. She was brought in at last, however, and we prepared to start on our way. “Beuhan,” the headman here, had been very hospitable to us, first in setting aside a good clean house for us, and he also gave our men rice and fruit, as their supplies, like our own, were very small. Indeed, the fellow seemed so pleased to have us at his village, and behaved so well to us, that I felt bound to make him a fair repayment. I found out from “Suong” that “Lapayang” had told him of the musket which Mr. Veitch and myself had given to him, and that “Beuhan” wanted one too. I was glad to have the power of thus easily satisfying him. When I handed the musket to him before all his people and told him always to help the white men who came to him, he was visibly delighted, and looked at the glistening barrel and bright brass-work with rapture. I also gave him a small supply of ammunition. He had heard of my shooting down cocoanuts from the trees, both at Koung and at Kiau, and he desired me to do this at his village. Smith handed me his rifle, and luckily for my reputation, I smashed the particular nut he pointed out to atoms. Here, at this village I took leave of my old friend “Kurow,” and gave his little daughter a Chinese looking-glass, which pleased her greatly. Another little girl also from Kiau was with her, and she looked so sorry that she had not one too, although pleased at her friend’s good fortune, that I could not but hand her one also, and her dusky face was all sunshine in an instant. These two girls had walked all the way from Kiau yesterday perfectly barefoot over rough ground, rocks, streams, and jungle, carrying heavy loads, while “Kurow” carried only his slender-shafted spear. It is this hard work at an early age which so soon destroys the lithe figures and tiny hands and feet these Dusun children so often possess.