“We are perfectly safe,” answered Dalim, “no Dayak will venture here and the Colonel is not likely to seek us here. He is busy following Baba Poetjieng’s canoe and may be glad to find himself at the mouth of the Lesser Dayak by to-morrow night. As I said before it is impossible for them to guess that we are here, since nobody knows of this passage.” “You said no Dayak would venture here. Why is that?” “In 1859 Pembekel Soelil was killed here by the bursting of a cannon while defending his benting against the Dutch. To save his body from the hands of the Dutchmen, his people buried him in soengei Dahasan near the spot we have just passed. Since that time this soengei is guarded by a pampahilep and woe to him who enters the forbidden territory.” “Pray, what is a pampahilep?” “A horrible forest ghost who kills every one within his reach. But this pampahilep is a female and whenever she gets hold of a man she compels him to marry her, only to strangle him afterward.” “Brr! Quelle Canaille!” the Walloon muttered. “But you are not afraid?” Schlickeisen asked the Dayak. “Ah!” said he, “I invented the story myself, in order to secure a secret way for smuggling salt, powder and lead. Now everybody keeps my female pampahilep at a respectful distance.” “Do Dayaks believe everything so implicitly?” “They are very superstitious. There are several spots in their country which they believe to be haunted and a Dayak would not venture near them for all the money in the world.” “But,” said Schlickeisen, “you told us just now that in order to prevent the body of Soelil from falling into the hands of the Dutch it was buried here. Do the Dutch mutilate bodies?” “They forbid the Dayaks to take heads, but they don’t mind taking the heads of the Dayaks.” “Have you ever seen them do it?” “No, but it is known among us. I have even heard that they put those heads in pickle!” “Nonsense!” cried Johannes. “It certainly has happened once or twice that the head of some notorious outlaw has been forwarded to Bandjermasin for identification, but it was invariably buried afterward.” “I wish you were all further with your ghosts and dead men’s heads,” exclaimed La Cueille. “I shall be dreaming of them all night.” After securely mooring their boat their first care was to provide a meal, as they had scarcely tasted anything during the preceding twenty-four hours. Some dry branches were collected and they soon had a good fire to cook their food. Thanks to Baba Poetjieng, they found some green bamboo stalks in the canoe. These the Dayaks cut up into small cylinders, which after being filled with moistened rice and closed with pieces of wood were thrown on the fire. After some fifteen or twenty minutes the bamboo tubes burst asunder with a loud report. The Dayaks then withdrew them from the fire, opened them and spread the cooked rice upon large leaves.