Once more the tiger’s roar sounded, nearer and clearer, and then they heard him crash through the leaf-thatch roof and fall into the room. There was a great commotion among the men, but though all tried to kill the animal, none could see him. Soon after they heard a roar of triumph from the tiger outside the house. They lifted up the mats and sheets which covered Danjai’s wife, and there they saw her headless body! The Were-Tiger had succeeded in his attack, and had carried off the head of his victim! Loud was the weeping and great the lamentation over her dead body. She was so young to die! And what death could be more terrible than hers whose head had been carried away by her murderer! All in the house mourned her loss for seven days, and during that time the house was very quiet, as all lived in their separate rooms, and did not come out into the common veranda to do work or to talk to each other. The death of his wife grieved Danjai very much. But though his grief was great, his desire for revenge was greater still. Very early on the morning of the next day Danjai started after the tiger. The drops of blood which had fallen could plainly be seen on the ground, and he had no difficulty in finding out in what direction the tiger had gone. On and on he tracked the blood till he came to a cave at the foot of a high mountain. The sides of the cave were splashed with blood, so Danjai walked boldly in, determined to revenge the death of his wife. It was not very dark in the cave. In the distance he could see an opening, and he hurried towards it. He came out on the other side of the mountain, and saw a large plantation of sugar-cane and plantain-trees. Beyond this he saw a long Dyak house. “This,” he said to himself, “is surely the abode of the Were-Tiger, and soon I shall have an opportunity of revenging the death of my wife.” He planted two sticks one across the other in the ground to mark the opening in the mountain, so that he might not miss his way on his return, and then he boldly walked towards the house. He followed a path through the sugar-cane plantation—still tracking the drops of blood upon the ground—until he came to the ladder leading up to the house. He was so anxious to attack his wife’s murderer that he did not pause to ask—as is the usual Dyak custom—whether he might walk up or not, but went straight on into the house. Men sitting in the veranda asked him, as he passed them, where he was going and what he wanted, but he did not answer them. His heart was heavy within him, thinking of his dead wife, and wondering if he would be able to accomplish his task, and whether he would succeed in leaving the house as easily as he came in. But he was determined to avenge his wife’s murder, and he would not shrink from any difficulties in the way.