But there was one poor individual who could take no part in either these warlike expeditions, or in the “Begawai Antu” (head feast) given in honour of heads of enemies taken in their wars. Some years before, the poor man’s parents had accidentally set fire to one of the houses in the village, and, according to the custom of these Dyaks, such a misfortune entailed the whole of the culprit’s family being enslaved. One by one the relations of the poor man had died, until he remained the only slave of the tribe. Indignities were heaped upon him, he was looked upon with great contempt, and made to live in the last room of the village where the refuse was thrown. One day, feeling more desolate than usual, he made friends with a cat belonging to the tribe. He enticed the animal into his miserable room and dressed it up in a scarlet waistband, a war-jacket made of panther’s skin, and a cap decorated with hornbill’s plumes: in short, in the costume of a distinguished Dyak warrior. He carried the animal to the open verandah in sight of the chiefs and elders who were discussing plans for a fresh expedition, and of the women and young girls husking the paddy. There, before them all, the friendless creature hugged the cat and held it to his heart. He was nearly weeping and tears stood in his eyes, but hard-hearted and scornful, the people pointed at him in derision for owning such a friend, and laughed loudly. The warriors forgot about their war plans and the women about their paddy, in their keen enjoyment of the poor man’s misery. Suddenly, he let the cat jump out of his arms, and as it touched the ground it ran like a mad thing in and out of the crowd, dropping here and there the cap, the jacket, and the scarlet waistband. Freed from these trappings, the cat leapt out of the house and disappeared. Then a great storm arose and the stone-rain fell upon the people. The chief of the village, together with all his tribe, were hurled by Antu Ribut into the stream, and they and their houses were turned into those great rocks which anyone can see for himself if he will take the trouble involved in a journey up those many reaches of the Batang Lupar River. The poor despised man found rest and shelter in the general confusion, for he crept inside a bamboo growing near the house, and there he has remained ever since, embedded in its heart. Dr. Hose has told me that Bukitans and Ukits also believe in the danger of laughing at animals, for he once had a baby maias[13] which learnt to put its arms into the sleeves of a small coat, until it quite got to like the coat. When visiting Dr. Hose at the Fort these people sometimes saw the creature slowly putting on his coat, when they hid their faces and turned away their heads, for fear the animal should see them laughing at it. When Dr. Hose asked them why they were afraid to be seen laughing, they replied, “It is ‘mali’ (forbidden) to laugh at an animal, and might cause a tempest.”