dropped a match in it, and in an instant it was all ablaze, spreading away like a
whirlwind, burning only the very tips, toward a distant jungle. Then we dove
into a bosky wood by a narrow winding path, and through a stream of water. The
path was like a tunnel, the dense foliage shutting it in on both sides and above.
The thorns of the rattans reached down and tore our clothes, and long trailing
rubber-vines caught up our helmets and held our feet. In a marshy bit of jungle, a
small colony of unwieldy sago palms found root, while pitcher-plants and
orchids hung from almost every limb. Clumsy gray iguanas and long-tailed
lizards of a brilliant green rushed up the trunks of lichen-covered trees. Troops
of monkeys went scattering away on all sides, and black squirrels chattered on in
the perfect security of the dim obscurity. In a bit of sandy bottom, a silken-
haired, zebra-striped tapir scuttled away ere we were half alive to his presence.
Outside was the metallic glare of the Malayan sun once more, now at its height,
and another march was before us, over the burning hot mésa. At one o’clock we
came upon a half-neglected plantation. The bloody trail of the deer led through
it. In the centre of the plantation we found a huge wedge-shaped attap house for
drying pepper, and there we rested.
Our tiffin baskets were six miles away in the dray, and sending after them was
out of the question. So we foraged for eatables. Cocoanuts were easily obtained
from trees all about, and a little whiskey mixed with its milk made a very
refreshing drink. Pineapples, small oranges, limes, papayas, custard apples, and
bananas were in large quantities. Our drivers added to this bill of fare by roasting
the sweet-potato-like roots of the tapioca. After this impromptu lunch they
compounded their quids of areca-nut and lime, and were ready once more to beat
up an adjacent jungle for deer, pig, or tiger.
As before, we were soon in position in the open before the jungle and the beaters
were yelling at the top of their voices.
I was half dozing in the sun, trying to smoke a Manila cigar that my mouth was
too dry to draw, when I was aroused by my neighbor, who called my attention to
a file of pigs at the extreme end of the line. I could just see what was going on
from the knoll on which I was standing. They were received by Major Rich, one
of his subalterns, and his Hindu gun-carrier. One of the file fell at the first
volley, two more broke through the line, and the remaining six or seven, led by a
fierce old fellow, from whose long tusks the foam dripped, turned up the line and