When the Rajah returned from his trip, he was vexed at what had taken place, for he did not think it possible that another tribe of Dyaks up the Rejang River would have dared another attack so soon after the last one. Moreover, it would have been impossible for them to have done so, as his gunboat _Heartsease_, with himself on board, was at the time stationed in the higher reaches of the Rejang River. I fancy the real truth of the matter was, that Mr. Skelton and his fortmen had become over-anxious, and I imagine my presence on the occasion also had something to do with it. It was whispered afterwards that two enormous tree trunks, borne down past the Fort by the current (in the semi-darkness just before dawn when it is difficult to distinguish objects at a distance), were the harmless factors of this scare. Nevertheless, I must again repeat, I was disappointed at the tame manner in which the expected attack fizzed out. CHAPTER VII The Rejang River deserves a few words of explanation. It is a magnificent roadway to commerce in the interior, and once the head-hunting propensities of the tribes in its neighbourhood are abolished, it promises to be a great centre of activity and trade. A large number of Kayans and Kenyahs are to be found in its tributaries. These people are, next to the Sea Dyaks, the most important and advanced of the tribes of Sarawak, and are scattered about the country in various rivers. They have attained a fairly high degree of civilization, whilst other tribes consist of primitive people called Punans, Ukits, and Bukitans. These do not cultivate land, but rely on the wild fruits and game they find in the forests. Curiously enough, however, as though to show they have descended from a higher civilization, they are able to manufacture the weapon in use amongst so many Bornean tribes--that thing we call the blow-pipe.[7] The Punans make their temporary homes under leafy shelters, in limestone caves, or in the buttresses of huge trees, called Tapangs, which afford shelter to whole families. When they have exhausted the surrounding localities of their fruits and game, they wander off to some other spot, where their life begins afresh. Notwithstanding their wild state, these people weave beautiful mats and baskets from palms gathered in the vicinity. They ornament such articles with patterns which must have been handed down to them from time immemorial--another proof of their probable degradation from a higher form of existence. A favourite pattern of theirs is the Greek “key” pattern. They are very shy, and might perhaps--from fear, but not from malice--kill a stranger wandering near their settlements.