The Europeans, powerfully affected, gazed at this mountain range, drawn like a dark blue ribbon against the light azure of the sky. For some moments none of them could speak. All the dangers and privations which they had encountered in getting this far seemed to pass before their eyes and they sat solemn and silent. At last Schlickeisen asked: “What is the name of those mountains?” “Batang Loepar,” Johannes answered. “How high do you consider them to be?” “The English reckon the highest peaks to be between six and seven thousand feet.” “When we are once up there shall we have a long way before us?” asked La Cueille. “In order to reach Jupille? Yes, a very long way.” “No; stupid,” rejoined the Walloon, “I mean before we reach the sea-shore?” “That, I don’t know; I have never been here before.” This question, when put to Harimaoung Boekit, still remained unanswered. The Poenan chief only shook his head and smiled. He was unskilled in the calculation of distances. “How black the water of the lake looks,” Schlickeisen remarked, “we seem to be sailing on ink.” “Yes,” answered Wienersdorf, “I noticed the same on the Blitang. On this lake, however, I find the drearily tinted water to be a mirror fitted in a becoming frame. Observe its placid surface. Even under the sun’s rays it is a jetty-black, while before us in glowing contrast is the dark-green foliage of the mountain slopes. Mark too, yonder, the gradual transition of gentle glades into rugged steeps, furnishing a combination of beauty and sublimity rarely met with anywhere.” It was indeed a lovely view. The beautiful mirror of water stretched itself far to the south and south-west. Mount Tomodok was visible in the west; the Batang Loepar range gradually rose in the north, and the acuminating peaks of Sareboe Saratoes were piled one above another, to be overtopped in the distant background by the summit of Japoh Poerau, called by the English Boekit Tebong, glistening like silver under the tropical sun. “A glacier!” exclaimed the Swiss in their own language, pointing to the glittering summit. “Shall we have to climb that?” Harimaoung Boekit shook his head, implying the negative, and pointed towards the north. Their disappointment at having to leave unvisited that snow-clad summit seemed a little surprising to their companions. It was mid-day before our travellers reached the northern shore of the lake. They immediately seized their burdens and resumed their journey on foot. The rangkan having been carefully concealed under the direction of Harimaoung in a spot where he could find it on his return, the Poenan and his men hastened to join their companions on their march.