Every evening as long as we remained here Pisha, the chief, used to sing, reciting mythical events, thereby attracting good antohs (spirits) and keeping the evil ones away, to the end that his people might be in good health and protected against misfortune. His efforts certainly were persevering, and he had a good voice that sounded far into the night, but his songs were of such an extraordinarily melancholy character that it still makes me depressed to remember them. He was an amiable man, whose confidence I gained and who cheerfully gave any information I wanted. Of his five daughters and three sons only the youngest daughter, who was not yet married, was allowed to pronounce Pisha's name, according to custom. Nor was it permissible for his sons-in-law to give me the name, still less for him to do so himself. After Mr. Demmini's departure all the photographing fell upon me, to which I had no objection, but it was out of the question also to do developing, except of the kodak films, and as the lieutenant, who had done some before, thought he could undertake it, the matter was so arranged. The first attempts, while not wholly successful, were not discouraging, and as time went on the lieutenant turned out satisfactory results. We had a couple of days' visit from the kapala of Sebaoi, a tall and nervous-looking Penyahbong, but friendly, as were the rest of them. I was then engaged in photographing and taking anthropometric measurements of the gently protesting natives, to whose primitive minds these operations appear weirdly mysterious. At first the kapala positively declined to take any part in this work, but finally reached the conclusion that he would be measured, but photographed he could not be, because his wife was pregnant. For that reason he also declined a glass of gin which the lieutenant offered him. The valiant man who had tried to catch the yellow snake on our river voyage called on me with his wife, who knew how to embroider well, and I bought some shirts embellished with realistic representations of animals, etc. The husband had that unsightly skin disease (_tinea imbricata_) that made his body appear to be covered with half-loose fish scales. Next day, to my amazement, he had shed the scales. The previous night he had applied a remedy which made it possible to peel the dead skin off, and his face, chest, and stomach were clean, as were also his legs and arms. His back was still faulty because he had not had enough of the remedy, but he was going to tackle the back that evening. The remedy, which had been taught them by the Saputans, consists of two kinds of bark and the large leaves of a jungle plant with red flowers, one of which was growing near my tent.