At the approach of evening, while the guests were still regaling, the husband and wife were separated. According to Dayak custom they must not meet each other again on the wedding day. The bride was led away by her companions, and the bridegroom was left with strict injunctions not to sleep, lest nightmares should visit him. He therefore rejoined his friends and shared their festivity. As soon, however, as the sun began to reappear on the horizon, the bride was brought out by her companions. She and her husband entered a djoekoeng and rowed into the middle of the stream. Arrived there, she gave the light vessel a sudden jerk which precipitated Wienersdorf into the water. This immersion of her husband accomplished, she assisted him to re-enter the canoe and they rowed back to the shore, where they were received by the shouting priestesses. These priestesses then proceeded to strew rice upon the heads of both bride and bridegroom, subsequently introducing a chicken which they set to pick up the rice. This was intended to symbolize the removal of all misfortunes from off the heads of the newly-wedded pair. Toeak was now served around, and after a parting glass all departed to their respective domiciles, leaving the new husband and wife to the enjoyment of each other’s society. The marriage had been solemnized and now there was nothing to prevent our adventurers from prosecuting their journey. It was therefore resolved to start as soon as the final preparations could be made. A couple of days sufficed to complete all arrangements, and at daybreak of the third day the journey was resumed. The party consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Wienersdorf, the three other Europeans, Dalim and his companion of Kwala Kapoeas, and Harimaoung Boekit, who, faithful to his promise, would with a few of his followers accompany the travellers until they should be out of danger. For their reception a large rangkan had been provided, manned by a crew of forty Poenans, who were to serve first as oarsmen and later on as carriers of the goods and chattels. Under the impulse of so many oars the vessel, though carrying so many persons, moved briskly toward the north. As long as the kotta remained in view the occupants of the rangkan exchanged loud hurrahs with their late friends, who finally fired a salvo from the six guns which had been mounted on the ramparts by La Cueille. This salute was intended as a recognition of past favors and also as a proof of the efficiency of the artillerists offered to their departing instructor. The Walloon, however, seemed dissatisfied. “No. 1 of the second gun,” said he, “handles his sponge awkwardly—the fellow should know better. No. 4 is careless in closing his vent. There will be an accident some day.” Rising in the boat he was about to call out to the men who were serving the guns, when the rangkan suddenly shot around an angle of the stream and the kotta disappeared from view.