As the sun rose, some of the strongest of the Malay force came up within shot, and took up quarters behind trees and opened fire upon the house. This stopped the cheering within, but in no way daunted the enemy. About an hour after, our elderly chiefs came up, viewed the house of the enemy, sat down on the hillside in a sheltered position, and were so exhausted that children might have hacked their heads off. They stopped all advance of their party, and while the oldest chiefs were suffering severely from fatigue, a palaver was opened, the result being that some of the enemy came down, mixed with our people, then partook of sirih and betel-nut in a friendly manner, and promised to show our party the nearest way back, and provide them with provisions for their journey. On their part they engaged to be answerable for the payment of a "death fine" for the men they had killed some months previously. News that a large expedition had been organised against Dandi had reached Apai Dendang before the departure of the force from Sekrang, and he had summoned to his assistance all the bravest men of the Saribas tribe, and the principal leaders of every head-hunting expedition for some time past; nevertheless he was unwilling to drive matters to an extremity, having a wholesome dread of the white men. This rendered him ready to treat and buy off the expedition with a promise of indemnity for murders recently committed. A fatal want of discretion had been shown in the whole affair, no trustworthy guides had been engaged, no inquiry made as to whether the Saribas were coming up to the succour of Apai Dendang, no English leaders were sent forward with the rabble of assailants, and that rabble had attacked in straggling detachments, when exhausted with hard marching and with thirst. We returned home with feelings that can be better imagined than described. The Dayaks said that the omens had been bad from the outset; the Malays said if they had only been there, the result would have been different; and the Europeans said—nothing.