Sherif Musahor, a chief of Arab descent, and one of the most violent men that ever tormented these countries, arriving from Siriki, came in to see us; he is a very heavy-looking fellow; at one time we were great friends, as we were equally fond of chess. It is not my object to enter into political affairs, but I may mention that having instigated the murder of two Englishmen he fled north, and after a variety of adventures found himself in 1861 at the head of a band of desperadoes at a place called Muka. Sir James Brooke had often been reported dead, and on his arrival at Sarawak the news spread like wildfire along the coast. Sherif Musahor, greatly disturbed, called before him a Madras trader and asked him, “Did you see the Rajah?” “Yes.” “Had he all his teeth perfect?” “Yes.” “Ah, you lie! when I saw him last he had a front tooth knocked out.” The Madras man saw the fiery look of this desperate chief, but without losing his presence of mind for a moment, answered, “What, have you not heard that the Rajah bathed in the waters of the Nile, and that it has restored his youth again?” His reply was satisfactory to all the Mahomedans present, who believe implicitly in every wonder told in the Arabian Nights. One afternoon, it being a very warm day, we were reclining on our mats, when a burst of wailing and howling around us told that bad news had been received. One of the chiefs brothers had returned from the interior and brought the following intelligence: It appeared that about two years and a half ago, a younger brother longing to see the world, had started off to the sources of the Kapuas river, which ultimately falls into the sea at Pontianah, a Dutch settlement, taking with him thirteen young men; he travelled on till he reached a Kayan tribe with whom his people were friends, and stayed with them for a few months. One day their hosts started on a head-hunting expedition, and invited seven of their guests to accompany them: the latter never returned, having all been killed by the Kayans themselves. Why or wherefore it is impossible to tell, but it is supposed that having failed in their head-hunt, and being ashamed to return to their women without these trophies, they had fallen upon their guests. Their remaining companions being in a neighbouring village escaped. Belabun, anxious to have news of his brother, had sent the one who had just returned to look for him. He patiently tracked him, but meeting with the seven survivors, he learnt the fate of his brother; they returned overland, but the young chief, impatient to reach home, made a bark canoe, in which he reached the village. Belabun and his people were greatly excited, and moved about the house in a restless and anxious manner, while the wailing of the female relatives was very distressing, particularly of the young girl whom the wanderer left as a bride.