A quarter of an hour elapsed and the preparations were made for another martial dance. This was performed by two of the rajah's sons, the same young men I have previously made mention of. They came forward each having on his arm one of the large Dyak shields, and in the centre of the cleared space were two long swords lying on the floor. The ceremony of shaking hands, as described preparatory to the former dance, was first gone through; the music then struck up and they entered the arena. At first they confined themselves to evolutions of defence, springing from one side to the other with wonderful quickness, keeping their shields in front of them, falling on one knee and performing various feats of agility. After a short time, they each seized a sword, and then the display was very remarkable, and proved what ugly customers they must be in single conflict. Blows in every direction, feints of every description, were made by both, but invariably received upon the shields. Cumbrous as these shields were, no opening was ever left, retreating, pursuing, dodging, and striking, the body was never exposed. Occasionally, during this performance, the war cry was given by the surrounding warriors, but the combatants held their peace; in fact they could not afford to open their mouths, lest an opening should be made. It was a most masterly performance, and we were delighted with it. As the evening advanced into night, we had a sort of extemporary drama, reminding us of one of the dances, as they are called, of the American Indians, in which the warriors tell their deeds of prowess. This was performed by two of the principal and oldest warriors, who appeared in long white robes, with long staves in their hands. They paraded up and down the centre, alternately haranguing each other; the subject was the praise of their own rulers, a relation of their own exploits, and an exhortation to the young warriors to emulate their deeds. This performance was most tedious; it lasted for about three hours, and, as we could not understand a word that was said, it was not peculiarly interesting. It, however, had one good effect: it sent us all asleep. I fell asleep before the others, I am told; very possible. I certainly woke up the first, and on waking, found that all the lights were out, and that the rajah and the whole company had disappeared, with the exception of my European friends, who were all lying around me. My cheroot was still in my mouth, so I re-lighted it and smoked it, and then again lay down by the side of my companions. Such was the wind-up of our visit to the rajah, who first excited us by his melodramas, and then sent us to sleep with his recitations. The next morning, at daylight, we repaired to our boats, and when all was ready took leave of the old rajah. The rajah's eldest son had promised to accompany us to the mouth of the river, and show us how the natives hunted the wild pigs, which are very numerous in all the jungles of Borneo.