Dalim and his mates carefully entered the fort, but Wienersdorf suddenly stumbled over something, fell, and uttered a cry of horror. Dalim who was behind him hastened to his aid. He bore a lighted torch in his hand, by the faint glimmer of which they perceived the headless corpse of their native companion. The body had been decapitated after the Dayak fashion, the head having been severed from it at one blow.
As a rule, this decapitation is performed so suddenly that the victims enter into eternity before they are aware of their impending fate. In this case, however, the Dayak seemed to have realized his situation during his last moments, as was proved by the cry he had uttered. He seemed also to have clutched his assailant with his left hand, because there was the fragment of ewah in his grasp, while his right hand still held his mandauw. La Cueille perceived something lying on the grass not far from the dead Dayak; he stooped and seized it, only to give utterance to a cry of horror and dismay. Powerless to relinquish what he held in his hand he raised it up. It was the head of their companion, its eyes rolling and its jaw and lips moving in their last agonies, as if they were trying to find utterance. At this horrible sight Dalim cried out terrified as he moved backward,
“Quick, back!”
He had scarcely uttered these words when a whistling sound was heard and La Cueille with a true Walloon curse cried out that he was wounded. He shouldered his rifle without loosing his grip of the head; but Dalim took him by the arm and hurried [[101]]him toward the canoe, while Wienersdorf covered the retreat, discharging the Remington into the surrounding obscurity. Upon nearing the light diffused by the boat’s fire, La Cueille thought he saw something move in the bush which skirted the palisade of the fortifications. He tore himself away from Dalim, threw the yet bleeding head into the canoe, and discharged his rifle in the direction of the shrubs. The shot was quickly answered with a defiant lēēēēh, lèlèlèlèlè, ouiiiit, and at the same time some figures emerged from the darkness into the illuminated circle. Now, however, came Johannes and Schlickeisen’s turn to interpose their aid. They had remained in the canoe, awaiting a favorable opportunity for action. Schlickeisen was armed with the other Remington rifle; Wienersdorf and the Walloon took their position near the canoe, and a rifle-fire was kept up which put the assailing Dayaks to rout. The first two shots fired by the Europeans from the canoe seemed almost sufficient, for these being delivered with a cool and steady aim two of their assailants were instantly hors de combat; the others soon fled.
Nothing further could be seen ashore; our adventurers therefore ceased firing and took time to recover themselves. La Cueille complained of pain in his arm, upon which Wienersdorf examined it and found that the Walloon had been wounded by a poisoned arrow. They all looked at each other dejectedly, for they had learned enough of arrow poison to be aware of its terrible consequences. Dalim took a handful of salt which he rubbed into the gums of the patient until a profuse salivation was produced. He was proceeding to rub it into the wound itself when Wienersdorf [[102]]pushed him aside, and opening his pocket knife made a deep crucial incision over the small wound. He then produced a bottle of liquid ammonia and poured a few drops of the alkali into the cut.
The Walloon roared with pain, writhing terribly and mingling many forcible expletives with constant repetitions of, “Sainte Vierge, priez pour moi!”
Although the situation was grave indeed, Johannes could not refrain from pointing out to La Cueille how soon he had forgotten his part of an Arab and strongly advised him to mutter a devout, “Lā ilāha illa llāhoe,” instead of invoking the Holy Virgin. The Walloon, though greatly incensed against his brown comrade, was in too much pain to give vent to his feelings. At length after many sighs and lamentations he fell into a deep slumber, which Dalim considered a favorable symptom.
It was clear that the others must not think of going to sleep. They knew that the enemy was in their immediate neighborhood. They therefore remained, rifle in hand, watching the banks from under the roof of their canoe in order to be prepared for a renewed attack. All remained quiet for a considerable time. Suddenly they heard from behind them on the river the well known but formidable lēēēēh lèlèlèlèlè ouiiiit! and a hail of small arrows dropped amongst them over the canoe and under the roof. Upon turning round sharply, they had just time to see a boat shoot by in mid-stream, its occupants continuing their cry of defiance. They thereupon discharged a few shots which seemed to be well aimed, for the war cry suddenly ceased and gave way to shrieks of pain. These continued to be heard for a considerable time in [[103]]the stillness of the night, but they gradually grew fainter until at last they were lost in the distance.
La Cueille on first hearing the war cry and the ensuing noise of the firing had jumped up from his sleep in a great fright. Feeling about for some weapon he had seized hold of the head which a few hours ago he himself had thrown into the canoe, but had quite forgotten. Being still under the influence of the late tragedy his horror was extreme, and he at once concluded that the head-hunters were on board and busily engaged in their bloody work among his companions. Fortunately there was no weapon near, else in the intense darkness he might have wrought sad havoc among his friends. In his heedless passion of self-preservation he grasped Johannes by the neck and tried to strangle him, when the latter becoming enraged, dealt him a few smart blows in return, saying, “This diabolical Walloon means to throttle me; I believe he is mad.”
They all fancied he was suffering from a sudden fit of mania caused by the arrow poison; but when the Walloon told them how on awakening he had taken hold of the head, they burst into hearty laughter and congratulated the pseudo head-hunter on the spoil he had secured.