been engaged in salt-making. Their “ boiling-pans.,
made of the bark of a palm-tree, lay strewn about,
but the place bad been deserted for some time. We
continued our walk along towards a point which we
had seen in the dim distance at starting. I t is down
on the map Kaliga Point; there is a good-sized river
here not marked on the map. Smith reminded me
that we were walking now where “ white men had
probably never trod before,” and of course I was
suitably impressed. Just at the point the rock changes,
the sandstone no longer containing oxide of iron, which
extends from Labuan all up the coasts of Borneo to the
Sequati River; at Kaliga Point the rock is a grey
limestone containing veins of quartz, and overlaid by a
ferruginous, yellow clay. This rock extends to the
base of the promontory which ends in Sampanmangio
Point. There is another good-sized river here, and
across this river the rock appeared to be sandstone
again. A regular series of sandstones and limestones,
the sandstones being of more recent origin than the
limestones, would seem to be the geological condition
of things. Both these rocks contain much oxide
of iron, the sandstone being interstratified with a
compact blue clay.
IV.
At the point we met two men and a woman who were
making salt. On our approach they all made off, but
after much coaxing they screwed up courage enough
to come and talk, with us. They spoke in Dusun to
our man, and he asked them who was their chief, and
where he lived. They' pointed round the Limestone
Point (Kaliga?), and said that Pangeran Brunei was
their head man. We made up our minds to see Pangeran
Brunei, so off we set again. Instead of keeping to the
coast, we made a “ short cut ” over the hill, through a
native jungle path, which is, as a rule, the bed of some
mountain stream, with here and there a tree cut down.
In our case it was not even so good as this. I t was
a long climb through tangled jungle; great leaves
hitting one in the face, and thorns running into one’s
clothes and tearing one’s flesh ; everything dripping
with water, and the sun only finding its way in here
and there through the dense mass of foliage overhead.
The soil was soft clay, covered with wet, dead leaves;
for tropical vegetation, instead of shedding its leaves
decently once a year, sheds them in small portions all
the year round, and their place is supplied by new ones
as the old ones drop off. Of course we got lost in the
jungle; I knew we should before we went in, and, of
course, no one had brought a compass. After a consultation
on the best plan -to be adopted for getting
out, I thought I could just hear the waves breaking .on
the beach below us. We walked in the direction of
the sound, and three quarters of an hour’s climbing,
slipping, and sliding brought us out on a coral beach,
strewn with limestone boulders. I was surprised to
see so little life in a tropical jungle. Where were the
gorgeous birds, the parrots, the deer, the snakes of
which I had so often read ? I saw nothing at all in
our jungle; and with the exception of a few monkeys
and some sea birds, we saw no animal of any kind the
whole day. We now sat down on a piece of driftwood
on the “ coral strand of Borneo,” and partook
of biscuits and potted meat, spreading the meat on the
biscuits with our bowie knives in true backwoodsman-
like style. After a short rest and a drink, “ not of water