The man on shore had already cut through one rope. He remained looking intently at the rangkans and when he saw they had come sufficiently near, he raised his arm to cut through the second rope. But in order to do this he had to expose himself; his form was only visible for a short time, but that was long enough for the two Swiss to discharge their rifles with unerring aim. Pierced almost exactly in the same spot by two bullets, the Doessonese made a summersault and fell dead. One of his companions appeared from behind the tree to complete the projected work, but before he had moved two steps he shared the same fate. The same thing occurred with a third and a fourth of them. A fifth crept along the ground and thus escaped the observation of the firing party. He got to the rope, which was wound round the tree four or five times about five feet from the ground, and in order to reach it he had to raise himself on his knees. He then grasped it with his left hand and lifted the right to deal a smart blow to the tightly strung rattan, when again two shots were fired. These completely smashed his left fist, but at the same time one of the bullets almost severed the rope. “Row for your lives!” both Amai Kotong and Dalim yelled. The rangkans almost fled onwards, lashing the water into foam. For a moment only they saw the top of one of these giants of the forest wave backwards and forwards. The huge trunk bowed, righted itself again, then bowed again to fall with a noise like thunder, covering the river with its branches and foliage and scattering the water high in the air in wild spray that enveloped everything in a misty veil. The rangkans had fortunately passed the spot where the tree fell; by only a few seconds they had escaped destruction, for if overtaken by the fallen giant, they must inevitably have been crushed and their living freight hurled into a watery grave. “That was a narrow escape!” La Cueille cried. “Well may you say so,” Johannes smiled satisfactorily. “But look out; you now see what sort of dare-devils these beggars are. It is one of the usual tricks of war among the Dayaks. Whenever they expect an enemy by the river, they prepare for him by cutting through the base of the trunks of the very largest trees found along the banks. They then retain them in their natural position by means of rattan ropes which are severed at the precise moment that the enemy is opposite to them. The trees then fall and either crush the advancing boats or interpose an impenetrable obstacle to their further progress. Six men are generally placed on watch near the ropes, and these, as a rule, keep themselves hidden. Once the ropes are cut they fly as fast as they can and watch the result from a distance.” “I heard Dalim cry out parabah! What does this word mean?” Schlickeisen asked. “It is the name given to the dodge of letting these trees fall.”