the brave little band became smaller and smaller until the last remaining two of them threw themselves on the floor and by creeping along endeavored to reach their opponents with their naked mandauws. One of them was almost immediately staked to the floor of the raft by Schlickeisen. The other creeping cautiously forward raised himself and lifted his mandauw to deal a fatal blow at Wienersdorf who, seeing no chance of averting the stroke, suddenly dropped his rifle and grasped the wrists of his adversary so tightly as to compel him to relinquish his weapon. A terrible struggle now took place between the two men, who knew that the life of one of them was at stake. A few inches only separated them from the water. They were struggling breast to breast with such rapidity of movement that any interference from the others must have endangered the one as much as the other. At last the strength of the less muscular Dayak became exhausted. Wienersdorf noticing this kicked the fallen mandauw into the lake, and making a last violent effort lifted both arms of his enemy and bending them forcibly backwards compelled the panting Dayak to sink upon his knees before him. “Blako ampoen!” I beg for mercy! cried the native. The Swiss hearing these words uttered in a soft and imploring voice released his enemy and offered him his hand, which the native still on his knees hesitated to take. His chest heaved violently and his eyes shone like fire. At last he leaped to his feet, took the offered hand, placed it on his head and bent his proud neck as a token of submission. While doing this he gave utterance to some words which were not understood by any of his hearers. The son of the forest remained standing thus for a few moments. He then suddenly lifted his head, took his knife, made a slight wound in the flesh of his arm, collected the flowing blood in the palm of his hand and smeared some of it upon the forehead and lips of Wienersdorf, who stood looking on as if paralyzed. He then slightly wounded the Swiss, collected his blood also and rubbed it over his own forehead and lips, after which he swallowed the remaining drops. He again took the hand of the conqueror, pressed it fervently and brought it to his lips, plainly uttering the words “Harimaoung Boekit,” tiger of the mountains. Then before any one had time to prevent him he leaped into the lake, the dark water of which closed above his head. Just at that moment, as if nature desired to contribute to the escape of the savage, a wind squall suddenly extinguished the burning flame and enveloped the occupants of the raft in total darkness. CHAPTER VIII. THE RESULTS OF THE FIGHT—DAMBOENG PAPOENDEH’S EXPEDITION—THE MAROETAS—BACK AGAIN TO THE KAPOEAS—NIGHT FIRING—THE BEES TO THE RESCUE—ASSISTANCE IN PERIL—THE SEPARATION—CIVILIZATION AND BARBARISM. “I am not sure,” La Cueille said, “that it was wise in us to let that man escape.”