We had gone out to a Dyak village to take pictures.
It was a miserably hot morning. That night I stayed in Pontianak which is bisected by the Equator. It was so cold in the middle of the night that I had to get up and put on a night shirt!
The next day we tramped ten miles through the Jungle to a Head-hunting Dyak village.
I had been taking pictures for an hour in this Kampong when six of the most beautiful Dyak girls came in, with great Bamboo water tubes flung over their gracefully strong shoulders. Their skin looked like that of a red banana from toe to chin. They were stark naked save for a girdle about their loins. They had been five miles away for water.
Their skin was flushed with exercise. There they stood, mystified at seeing white men in the village Kampong.
In fact they were terrified.
Their big brown eyes bulged out.
Their breasts heaved with fear.
I said to the missionary, "Dyak Madonnas! What a painting they would make?"
"Yes, there are no more beautiful women anywhere. They look like bronze statues. A Rodin, or a St. Gaudens would go wild over their limbs and bodies."