This principal item, the head dance, contains a shadowy kind of plot. Two men are supposed to meet in a forest; they are unacquainted with one another, therefore they are enemies. From the first moment they are supposed to catch sight of one another through the entanglement of tropical vegetation, they crouch and jump about like frogs, looking first to one side and then to the other, from behind their shields. One of the dancers suddenly springs to his full height, and rushes at his opponent, who is ready to receive him. A struggle begins, and they appear to be in deadly earnest. They wave their swords with such rapidity that it looks as though a number of steel Catherine wheels were flying about the room. They hack at one another, but never thrust. After this sort of thing has been going on for some time, one of the performers becomes exhausted, and falls to the ground, when his opponent seizes the advantage, grips him by the throat, kneels on his fallen body, and pretends to saw at the head until it is apparently separated from the body. This part of the play, somewhat disagreeable to me, was received with yells of delight from the warriors present, who made a noise as though a number of dogs were baying at the moon. The victor then takes the cap from the fallen man’s head, to represent the real head he is supposed to have cut off. He then takes high jumps and rushes about the room in the exhilaration of his victory. As he is about to hang the trophy to his waist-belt by the lock of hair left for the purpose, he looks at the dead face and discovers the head to belong to his brother. Another dance is gone through, but now the steps denote dejection. The man goes about with bent knees, dragging his feet; he rubs his eyes with his knuckles, and fondles the headless body, imploring it to return to life. But even this tragedy ends happily. A friendly spirit passes by and whispers advice in the bereaved brother’s ear. Acting upon the spiritual counsel, the murderer fits the head into its place between the shoulders of the corpse, when in a short time it is supposed to grow again on the body. The brothers are reunited, and another dance of whirling sabres, of leaps and bounds, takes place, after which the head dance is ended. Through it all, the lightness of the dancers is extraordinary, for however high they jump, or however far their stride may be, these Dyak dancers are invariably graceful and noiseless as panthers.