All the Bajus and Borneans are convinced that there is a lake on the very summit of this mountain, and ask, if it be not so, how is it that continual streams of water flow down its sides. They forget that very few nights pass without there being rain among the lofty crags, even when it is dry on the plains. Sometimes the sun, shining on particular portions of the granite, gives it an appearance of great brilliancy; and those who formerly ascended the summit with Mr. Low, reported that whenever they approached the spot where these diamonds showed themselves at a distance, they invariably disappeared: as these men have a perfect faith in every wild imagination of the _Arabian Nights_, they easily convinced themselves and their auditors that the jinn would not permit them to take them. The old story of the great diamond, guarded on the summit of Kina Balu by a ferocious dragon, arose probably from some such cause. The Malays are great storytellers, and these wonders interest them. I may notice that most of the men that were with us accompanied us to the mountain of Molu the preceding February, and then one of the Borneans commenced a story which lasted the seventeen days we were away, and he occasionally went on with it during our present journey. It was the history of an unfortunate princess, who for “seven days and seven nights neither eat nor drank, but only wept.” Opposite our resting-place we observed some remarkably elegant tree ferns, whose stems rose occasionally to the height of ten feet, and with their long leaves bending gracefully on every side, they were an ornament to the river’s bank. We noticed as yet but little old forest. The only fine trees we saw were near the villages, and these were preserved for their fruits. Where the land is not cultivated, it is either covered with brushwood, or trees of a young growth. Drizzling rain prevented our departure till near eight, when we continued our course along the ricefields: we had been told we should find the path very bad, but were agreeably surprised by it proving dry and principally among plantations of kiladi. We crossed the river only five times, and passed over a sandstone range about five hundred feet above the plain: it was nearly three miles from our resting-place. The stream had now become a perfect mountain torrent, breaking continually over rocks.