On my joining Lieutenant Turnour, I found him just returned from a very spirited attack which he had made, assisted by Mr. Comber, on a stockade situated on the summit of a steep hill, Mr. Allen, the Master, being still absent on a similar service on the opposite side of the river. The gallant old chief Patingi Ali was likewise absent in pursuit of the enemy that had been driven from the stockades, with whom he had had a hand-to-hand fight, the whole of which, being on the rising ground, was witnessed by our boats’ crews, who could not resist hailing his return from his gallant achievement with three hearty cheers. We had now to unite in cutting our way through a barrier across the river similar to that described in the attack on the Sarebas, which having passed we brought up for the night close to a still more serious obstacle in a number of huge trees felled, the branches of which, meeting midway in the river, formed apparently an insurmountable obstacle. But “patience and perseverance” overcame all obstacles. By night only three of the trees remained to be cleared away. On the right bank, about 50 yards in advance of the barrier, stood a farm building, which we considered it prudent to occupy for the night. Having collected fifty volunteers (Brooke and Wade had then not rejoined), I took Brooke’s schoolfellow Steward, Williamson, and with me Comber, a corporal and four marines, my gig’s crew, and, of course, my trusty John Eager, the sound of whose bugle meant mischief. The remainder composed of a medley of picked Malays and Dyaks. The house being 100 yards in advance of our party, and 80 from the river, it was difficult of approach, especially at night. The ground swampy, with logs of trees, over which I stumbled, and was up to my arms in mud and water. Nevertheless, there was no noise. It was a roomy building. In one corner I found an enclosure, forming a square of about 8 feet; of this I took possession, and while in the place--it was pitch dark--I quietly divested me of my wet trousers. “Tiga” (three) was the watchword, in case of a stranger finding his way in. I was contemplating whether my duck trousers were sufficiently dry for me to get into, when every one was disturbed by a most diabolical war-yell. In a moment every man was on his legs--swords, spears, and krisses dimly glittered over our heads. It is impossible to describe the excitement and confusion of the succeeding ten minutes; one and all believed we had been surrounded by the enemy and cut off from our main party. I had already thrust the muzzle of my pistol close to the heads of several natives, whom in the confusion I had mistaken for Sekarrans; and as each in his turn called out “Tiga!” I withdrew my weapon to apply it to somebody else, until at last we found we were _all_ “Tigas.” I had prevented Eager more than once from sounding the alarm, which from the first he had not ceased to press for permission to do.