The girl who had been the first to mock at the fish was only partly petrified, for her head and neck remained human and unchanged. She, also, had fallen into the river, and was embedded like a rock in the middle of the stream. Thus she lived for many years, with a living head and neck, and a body of stone. Whenever a canoe paddled by she implored its inmates to take their swords and kill her, but they could make no impression whatever on her stone body or on her living head. They could not move the rock, for it was too big, and although they hacked at her head with axes, swords, and various other implements, she bore a charmed life, and was doomed to remain alive. One evening a man paddled by, carrying his wife’s spindle in the bottom of his canoe. He heard the girl’s cries, and tried all means possible with his axe and his sword to put her out of her misery; at length in a fit of impotent despair he seized hold of the spindle and struck her over the head with it. Suddenly her cries ceased, and her head and neck slowly turned to stone. This legend is known to a great many of the Dyaks living up the Batang Lupar River, and the group of rocks was pointed out to me when we passed by them, if I remember rightly, not far from Lobok Antu. The other legend is known as the Cat story, and is supposed to have happened to a tribe who lived not far from the lady turned to stone by a spindle. This village was also built on the banks of one of the little streams flowing into the Batang Lupar River. The chief was a proud, haughty man, whose tribe numbered one thousand men, women, and children. He was given the title of “Torrent of Blood,” whilst his more famous warriors were also distinguished by similarly splendid names. His house was so large that it had seventy-eight doors (meaning seventy-eight families lived under the same long roof). He was indeed a great man: when he consulted the birds, they were favourable to his wishes, and when he led his warriors to battle, he always returned victorious, with his boats laden with heads, jars, sacks of paddy, and plunder of various kinds. No tribe in Borneo could equal the noise made by his warriors when they gave vent to the terrible head yells, by which they made known to the countryside that they were returning from some successful expedition. Practice had made them perfect, and the mountains, rocks, and valleys resounded with their shouts. When an expedition returned, the women and children stood on the banks to watch the arrival of the boats. The most distinguished warriors’ helmets were decorated with hornbill’s plumes, and their war-jackets were a mass of feathers. None but renowned head-hunters were allowed to wear the hornbill’s plumes, for they were a token of the wearer having captured heads of enemies in battle.