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IN MALAY JU NGLES

CHARLES MAYER

CORNELL
UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

THE
CHARLES WILLIAM WASON
COLLECTION ON CHINA
AND THE CHINESE

Cornell University Library
GV 1827.M46

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Cornell University

Library

The original of this book is in
the Cornell University Library.

There are no known copyright restrictions in
the United States on the use of the text.

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“The native screamed and the snake constricted suddenly,
breaking nearly every bone in the man’s body and crushing the
life out of him.”

A

TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

IN Ma.tay JUNGLES

BY
CHARLES MAYER

GARDEN CITY PUBLISHING CO., INC.

-GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK

+

Copyright, 1920, by
Asta PusiisHine Company

Copyright, 1921, by \
Ovurrietp AND CoMPANY

Printed in U. S. A.

To
My SISTER Doré

CONTENTS

I. Crcus Days... « © 2 «©
TI. JuneteE STRATAGEMS . . 2 - se
III, ErepHANTS «1 1 6 ew te ew ow
IV. Suippinc Witp ANIMALS . .

V. Tue Sea Tracepy or THE JUNGLE Foitx
VI. “Kittinc A Man-Eater” .

VII. Up a TREE IN THE JUNGLE . .. .

ier

ILLUSTRATIONS

“The native screamed and the snake constricted suddenly,
breaking nearly every bone in the man’s body and crushing
. the life out of him.” . . . . . . . . « Frontispiece

“T looked up just as a black leopard sprang at us. Ali’s spear
whizzed by my head, hitting the animal in the side. I fired,
catching him in mid-air squarely in the chest with an ex-
plosive bullet.” . . . . . . . . | « Facing Page 36

“Since the monkey cannot pull his hand out of the bottle while
it is doubled up and he hasn’t sense enough to let go, he
sticks there until the hunter comes along.” . Facing Page 46

“IT climbed to the platform and looked down into the trap.
There were sixty elephants.” . . . . Facing Page 68

“I felt myself spinning so rapidly that the elephant, my men
and the stall were all a blur; and I came up against the
wall with a thud. Fortunately, there was a gutter running
along the wall, and I dropped into it just as the elephant
lunged forward at me”. . . . . . . Facing Page 88

“We began to prod the rhinoceros, . . . . He put his head
against the wall and rooted; the wall toppled over and
he lurched out of the pit and into the cage.” Facing ‘Page 116

“A huge paw shot out and grabbed my ankle. I was jerked off
the ground, and, as I fell, my hands caught the limb of a
tree. 2. 1 The brute pulled. I felt myself growing
dizzy... . . Then Omar grabbed a club and pounded the
Orang’s arm.” . . . + + + + «+ + Facing Page 142

“Then three of us armed with krises took positions so that we
should be above the seladang when he charged, and we
lowered the sack. He snorted and drew back.”

Facing Page 204

TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS
IN MALAY JUNGLES

Trapping Wild Animals
in Malay Jungles

I
CIRCUS DAYS

T was the lure of the circus—the tug that every
boy feels when a show comes to town—that
started me on my career as a collector of wild
animals. JI use the word collector rather than
hunter, because hunting gives the idea of killing
and, in my business, a dead animal is no animal at
all. In fact, the mere hunting of the animals was
simply the beginning of my work, and the task of
capturing them uninjured was far more thrilling
than standing at a distance and pulling a trigger.
‘And then, when animals were safely in the net or.
stockade, came the job of taking them back through
the jungle to the port where they could be sold.
It was often a case of continuous performance until
I stood on the dock and saw the boats steam away
with the cages aboard. And I wasn’t too sure of
the success of my expedition even then, because the
animals I had yanked from the jungle might die
before they reached their destination.
I was nearly seventeen when Sells Brothers’ Cir-
cus came to Binghamton, New York, where I was
3

4 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

living with my parents. That day I joined some
other boys in playing hookey from school, and we
earned our passes by carrying water for the ani-
mals. It wasn’t my first circus, but it was the first
time that I had ever worked around the animals
and I was fascinated. I didn’t miss the big show,
but all the rest of the day I was in the menagerie,
listening to the yarns of the keepers and doing as
much of their work as they would allow. That
night, when the circus left town, I stowed away
in a wagon.

The next morning, in Elmira, I showed up at
the menagerie bright and early. The men laughed
when they saw me. I had expected them to be
surprised and I was afraid that they might send
me away, but I found out later that it was quite
an ordinary thing for boys to run away from home
and join the circus. And the men didn’t mind be-
cause the boys were always glad to do their work
for them. I worked hard and, in return, the men
saw that I had something to eat. That night I
stowed away again in the wagon.

In Buffalo I was told to see the boss—the head
property-man—and I went, trembling for fear he
was going to send me back home. Instead, he told
me that I might have the job of property-boy, which
would give me $25 a month, my meals and a place
to sleep—if I could find one. There were no sleep-
ing accommodations for the canvas and property
crews; we rolled up in the most comfortable places

CIRCUS DAYS 5

we could find, and we were always so dead tired
that we didn’t care much where we slept.

Since those early days in the circus, I’ve been
around the world many times, and I’ve seen all sorts
of men, living and working in all sorts of condi-
tions, but I’ve never found a harder life than that
of property-boy, unless, perhaps, it’s that of a Malay
prisoner. Sometimes I wonder how I stood it and
why I liked it. But I did stand it and, what is
more, I loved it so much that I persuaded the boss
to keep me on when we went into winter quarters.

The moment we arrived at a town, the head
canvas-man rode to the lot on which we were to
show and laid it out; that is, he measured it and
decided on the location of the tents. The men with
him drove small stakes to indicate where the tent-
pegs were to be placed. In the meantime, the prop-
erty gang unloaded the show. Then we drove the
four-foot stakes for. the dressing-tent into whatever
kind of ground the lot happened to have. A man
can work up a good appetite by swinging a fourteen-
pound hammer for an hour or so before breakfast,
but before we started we had also many other things
to do. The dressing-tent had to be spread and
hoisted; then the properties were sorted and placed
in their position for the performers to get ready
for the parade. Meanwhile the canvas-gang was
getting the “big-top” up. Then, when the parade
started, we went to the “big-top” and arranged the
properties there, made the rings, adjusted the guys,

6 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

ropes and wires for the aerial acts and laid out all
the paraphernalia for the ground acts. While we
were doing these things, the canvas-men were
stringing the seats. Then we had breakfast.

When the parade returned, there were cages to
be placed in the menagerie tent and the parade
properties to be prepared for shipping. By the time
that work was finished, the crowds had arrived for
the show and we stood by to handle the tackle of
the various acts. At night, after the show had
started, we began taking down the smaller. tents
and stowing the properties just as fast as they
came from the “big top.” Then, when the show
was loaded, we took one last look over the lot to
be sure that nothing had been left behind.

No, we didn’t care much where we slept—just
any spot where we dropped was good enough.

My greatest interest was in the animals, espe-
cially the elephants. In my spare minutes—they
were mighty few and far between—lI talked with
the keepers and learned from them many things
about the care of animals. When we went into
winter quarters at Columbus, Ohio, the head animal-
man agreed to let me stay as a keeper.

The next season I went with the Adam Fore-
paugh show; then with the Frank Robbins show.
I learned the circus business from the ground up
and I was rapidly promoted. In 1883, I joined R.
W. Fryer’s show as head property-man and trans-
portation master. It was a responsible position,

CIRCUS DAYS 7

which required every bit of the knowledge I had
gained in the few preceding years. I had charge of
all the circus property and I was boss of a large
crew of men. The job kept me on the jump day and
night. The canvas and property crews were made
up of the toughest characters I have ever struck
in my life—a man had to be tough in those days.
‘They were hard to handle, but they were good
workers and I got along all right with them.
They were always just a little bit tougher than
any local talent we came up against on the tour,
even though a circus used to attract the worst men
for miles around. At Albuquerque one night, four
“bad men” came to see the show. When they came
up, Fitzgerald, who was one of the partners, was
taking tickets at the entrance. He tried to get
tickets from them, but they pulled out guns. One
of them said: “These are our tickets.” Fitzgerald
let them in and passed the word along to the crew.
The men took seats and, when the show started,
they let loose with their guns, shooting through the
tents and letting a few bullets fly into the ring.
Sometimes a bullet would strike near a performer,
raising a puff of dust and scaring him half to death.
The “bad men” were sitting with their legs dang-
ling down between the seats. Some of the crew
took seats near them, just as if they were part of
the audience, and a dozen property-men sneaked
under the tent. When the signal was given, they
grabbed the dangling legs and pulled. Then the

8 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

circuis-men in the seats jumped up and, without let-
ting the audience know what was happening, they
snatched the guns. Down went the “bad men”
between the seats. It all happened so quickly and
so quietly that the audience didn’t realize what had
become of them. The canvas-men “‘toe-staked” them;
that is, they hit them over the heads with the toe-
stakes that are driven into the ground to keep the
seat-stringers from sliding. A toe-stake is of just
the proper size and weight to use in a fight, and it
is the circus-man’s idea of a good weapon. The
crew buried the four men while the show was on.
I thought there would be trouble before we could
get out of town, but the men weren’t even missed.
The Fryer outfit had a Pennsylvania Dutchman
called Charley. He was one of the strongest men
I have ever seen. One night, when the stake-wagon,
drawn by eight horses, was stuck in the mire, he
lifted the rear end of the wagon on his back while
the horses pulled it out. I think that if Charley
had got a good swing at a man and used his full
strength, he could have killed him with one blow.
One day, in Christchurch, New Zealand, while Fitz-
gerald was taking tickets, a larrikin—a tough—
came along and said: “Ticket?—I’ll spit in your.
eye.” Fitzgerald knocked him down and called for
Charley, who was working at the ticket-wagon.
Charley took the larrikin in his arms just as easily
as if he had been a baby, and carried him out into
the street. There he dropped him and said: “If I

CIRCUS DAYS 9

have to do this again, I’ll hit you.” The larrikin
didn’t come back.

Charley’s work at the ticket-wagon was to keep
the crowd moving. In front of the ticket-window
there was always stretched down a big sheet of
canvas covered with sawdust. When a man put
down his money for a ticket, the fellow in the wagon
passed him out a ticket for the cheapest seat and
charged him the highest price—unless the man
showed that he knew exactly what seat he wanted;
in that case, the ticket-seller shoved his change out
so that one or two coins slid off the counter into the
sawdust. If the man tried to stop and hunt in the
sawdust for his money, Charley pushed him along
to make room for the others who wanted to buy
tickets. After the crowd had passed imto the tent,
Charley and his pal would take up the canvas and
sort out the money from the sawdust.

I wasn’t in on that “flam” system, but I had
another way of making money. As head property-
man, I stood near the entrance to the “big-top” and,
when people weren’t satisfied with their seats, they
came to me. I sold them the privilege of taking
better seats. The sum acquired in this way was
known as “cross-over money” and it was supposed
to be turned over to the company. One day one of
the partners objected to this arrangement. He
decided that he would take the “cross-over money”
himself and have me collect tickets at the main
entrance. The other partner in the show would not

10 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

agree to this scheme. “If Mayer takes the ‘cross-
over money’,” he said, “we get half of it, at least;
but, if you take it, we don’t get any.”

That settled the matter, and, considering times
and ways, I’ve always thought that it was a good
tribute to my honesty. It was a crude business and
every man was out for himself. To break even, a
man had to be just as hard as the next one, and to
come out ahead, he had to be a bit harder. I liked
the game, but I always had the feeling that it wasn’t
the thing I wanted most. I was interested chiefly,
in the animals, but, as head property-man, I had
little time to be near them.

My desire to learn all there was to know about
animals was the main reason why I cultivated the
acquaintance and friendship of Gaylord. He was
an expert animal-man—probably the best informed
in the business—and had been P. T. Barnum’s con-
fidential agent for years. He had traveled the
world over, time and again.

It was Gaylord who negotiated with the Siamese
officials for one of the famous white elephants of
Siam. Barnum had his heart set on having one
of them for his show and he sent Gaylord out with
instructions to go the limit. The stumbling-block
in the transaction was that the Siamese believe the
spirits of the ancestors of the royal family are trans-
ferred to the white elephants. The animals live in
the royal palace and are cared for with all the
ceremony given to any members of the reigning

CIRCUS DAYS II

family. Of course, Barnum’s plan was just as un-
thinkable to them as if he had offered to exhibit
the king in his side-show. There was a hot
exchange of cablegrams between Barnum in New
York and Gaylord in Siam. Finally Barnum
offered the government $250,000 for the privilege
of borrowing one of the elephants for just one year.
He agreed to support a retinue of priests and
attendants and to pay all transportation charges.
The government would not even consider the propo-
sition so Gaylord gave up in disgust and cabled that
the deal was off. But Barnum was not discouraged.
When Gaylord returned to this country, he found
that the old man was advertising a white elephant
from the royal palace of Siam. Barnum had simply.
used a whitewash brush on an ordinary elephant,
with the result that he had a whiter elephant than
the Siamese ever dreamed of seeing. The animal
was so covered with velvet robes and surrounded by
attendants that the audience could not detect the
fraud; the general effect was good and the trick
brought in a lot of money.

Gaylord was quite deaf when I knew him, and
so was Fryer. Sometimes at rehearsal in the morn-
ing Fryer would come along and say to Gaylord:
“Let’s go up on the top seat—I want to tell you
something privately.” Then they would climb up
to the top seats and exchange confidences—shout-
ing at each other so loud that you could hear them
all over the lot.

12 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

The Fryer show opened in Kansas City and then
worked right out to the coast. After a month in
San Francisco, we jumped to Hawaii. We showed
a month at Honolulu and the King rarely missed
a performance. We had a royal box fitted up for
him, and he had as good a time as any of:the
youngsters. From Honolulu we went to Auckland,
New Zealand, where we found a twenty-day quar-
antine on all animals. We managed to get along
by giving performances in the Theatre Royal—just
the acts that required no animals. After that we
went to Australia and showed at all the large
towns; then we shipped to Java. Next we visited
the Malay Peninsula, where later I was to spend
many years in collecting animals.

During these long voyages, I spent much of the
time with Gaylord, listening to his stories of experi-
ences with animals. I had many questions to ask
and Gaylord, whose fund of information was inex-
haustible, always answered them and told me more
besides.

A few days after we arrived at Singapore, he
said: “Do you want to come with me while I buy
some animals?’ Naturally, I jumped at the chance.
We went to the house of Mahommed Ariff, the
Malay dealer who held a monopoly on the animal
trade. He was squatted in the center of his court-
yard, surrounded by cages containing the animals
brought in from the jungle by his native agents. He
was a wicked old devil and a man had only to glance

CIRCUS DAYS 13

at him to be convinced of the fact. His forebears,
Gaylord told me as we were going to his house,
were pirates, and he was the chief of a clique of
Samgings (the native gangsters), composed of na-
tives who would commit any crime he ordered. It
was by using such methods that he held his mon-
opoly of the animal business; the natives were
afraid of him, and no European or native had
dared to interfere with his trade. His head was
shaven and his lips and chin were stained crimson
from chewing betel-nut. He had little bullet eyes,
set in a fat face. My impression of Mahommed
Ariff was that he would be a bad man to have as
an enemy, but it naturally didn’t enter my head that
he was to become a sworn enemy of mine a few
years later. He greeted us cordially, for he had
done business many times with Gaylord, and we sat
down with him to talk animals. His religion was
“to do all Europeans,” but he could not help being
honest with us. If any man knew the value of
animals, it was Gaylord, and old Mahommed Ariff
was well aware of the fact. That day we bought a
tiger, several monkeys and a pair of leopards.
Several times during our stay in Singapore, I
went to see Mahommed Ariff. He spoke a little
English and he was usually willing to talk with me,
hoping, perhaps, that we would buy more animals.
From him I learned something of the work of
collecting as it was done on the Malay Archipelago,

14 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

but I had no idea, at that time, of entering the
business.

The show moved to Penang; thence to Bangkok,
Hongkong and Shanghai; then to Japan. It was in
Tokyo that Gaylord had one of his bright ideas. He
organized, in conjunction with the circus, a Japan-
ese village, and, when we worked back over our
route, via Singapore and Australia, we carried forty
Japanese with us. Twelve of them were performers
and the remainder were artisans. We had minia-
ture Japanese houses, in which the artisans worked
at their trades, such as fan-making, wood-carving
and embroidering. Also we carried a big stock of
cheap Japanese goods, which were sold as the prod-
ucts of our traveling factory. The Japanese village
was a great success and brought a lot of money into
the show.

In September, 1886, we struck Buenos Aires,
where the show had to buck the Carlos Brothers—
the big South American outfit—and bad weather.
During the long tour we had overcome many obsta-
cles, but that combination was too much. Fryer,
Gaylord and Fitzgerald decided to disband, and
most of the properties and animals were sold to the
Carlos Brothers.

By hard work and careful saving, I had man-
aged to accumulate over $8,000; so I was happy
to head northward. I returned to New York by
way of London and in December I met Fitzgerald.
‘A short time afterward we were in St. Louis, where

CIRCUS DAYS 15

we bought the Walter L. Main show, which con-
sisted of nothing more than a tent and some seats.
We had no animals but we hired performers and
started out on the road.

For. one week we had luck and took in money;
then came nine days of rain. The tent absorbed
tons of water, and we had no way of drying it and
preventing mildew. It was so heavy that the can-
vas-man could scarcely handle it.

At Springfield I went out to the lot and found
Fitzgerald there; he just stood there, looking at the
wet canvas spread out on the ground with the rain
beating down on it. The canvas-men had given up
—the tent was too heavy to hoist. That was the end
of my only adventure as a circus-owner.

The big shows carried an extra tent to meet
emergencies, but we couldn’t have one, of course.
The rain had beaten us to a finish. Even if we
could have raised our tent, we should have had
no audience, and we weren’t well enough supplied
with money to follow Bailey’s idea of giving a
performance if there were only two persons there to
see it. Our “Greatest Show in the World” was sunk
in an Illinois mud-puddle.

In later years I have stood sponsor for many of
the shows and small circuses that visited Singapore.
One I well remember belonged to an old friend,
‘A. Bert Wilison of Sydney, Australia, who had
been with the advance at the time I was with R. W.
Fryer’s Circus. He came with his show from Cal.

16 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

cutta in pawn, that is to say, he paid as much as
he had and the steamship company took a lien on
his show or chattels, and if the agent at the port
of disembarkment was satisfied, he could put up his
tent and show, the steamship agent taking the re-
ceipts with interest until the freight and passage
money was collected. I happened to be in Singa-
pore at the time and was told a circus had just
arrived from Calcutta—“Bert Wilison’s African
Circus and Equine Paradox.” I was wondering
who’s it could be, as I had never heard of my old
friend’s rise to proprietor of a show.

I made up my mind to see him, if not for busi-
ness then as an old showman, never dreaming I
was to meet an old friend. The surprise and pleas-
ure was mutual at our meeting, after an absence
of nearly fourteen years. The last time we were
together was in Buenos Ayres. As I was dressed
in an old suit of khaki, I looked to him as if I
were stranded. “Well, Charley,” he said, “I’m
broke, too, but I’ll manage to fix you somehow and
get you out of here. You come with me, old boy,
we'll share what’s left of the old show.”

I thanked him and said that I was not as badly
off as I appeared, but had been in the animal busi-
ness for a number of years, was settled and pretty
well known in Singapore, and if I could be of
assistance to him, it was his for the asking.

“Well, Mayer, to tell the truth, I’m in hock with
the steamship people. I have not enough to pay

CIRCUS DAYS 17

for the hauling of my stuff or feed for the horses,
let alone to put my wife and child at a decent hotel.”

I assured him I would see him through. There
were tears in his eyes as he grasped my hand. I
went with him to the agent of the British India
Company and arranged for the payment of his
passage and freight, in fact took care of everything
for him. It made me feel good to be again in
touch with the old show business; once in it, one
never forgets its glamor. I arranged for the lot
and feed for the horses, but the performers paid
their own hotel expenses. We had still to look for
the labor, so I hired coolies, and by night had the
top up. At the same time there was a stranded
balloonist whom I was befriending, an American
named Price, who went broke in India. He had
his balloon, which wanted but a little repairing,
so J made arrangements with Wilison for Price
to join the show and give ascensions and parachute
jumps for an attraction.

Well, the show opened and made good. The
balloon ascension was something new and it went
big, especially when the balloon was anchored and
would take people up. Wilison played Singapore
two weeks, paid all his debts and was on his feet.
I advised him to play Bankok, and, if possible, get
a guarantee from Prince Damvony to show inside
the palace, which he did with success. The only
thing that marred the career of the show was when
Price went up in the balloon and took a parachute

18 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

jump, he drifted down into the King’s household,
that is, the women’s pavilion, and caused an awful
uproar among the inmates. He had to do a lot
of explaining to convince the officials that it was
no fault of his, that it was unavoidable, as the wind
carried him there. I leave my readers to imagine,
if they can, the fright and feeling of the women
on seeing a man, a European, dressed in tights,
dropping amongst them from the skies. It was
weeks before the scare wore off, and it was spoken
of for years after. The last I heard of Wilison
was in Japan, when he intended to go from there
to Hawaii and then to Australia.

As the steamer having the Wilison show aboard
left the docks, the old fascination of show life
seemed to grip me. It brought back wonderful
memories of the good old days when one-ring
circuses were the real thing. I look back on
those days with regret, days when I was the head
or Boss Property Man, for next to the Proprietor
the Boss Property Man was king of the dressing-
tents, and woe to the performer who slighted him.
When the Show would make its first start on the
road, the Boss Property Man would place the per-
formers’ trunks in position. Pay day, the per-
former who neglected to give his fifty cents or
dollar to the Boss Property Man, would find his
trunk badly damaged, broken open or no trunk at
all on arrival at the next town. It was a custom
that few ventured to neglect, for otherwise they

CIRCUS DAYS 19

might suffer the loss of their wardrobe or part of
it, and probably their trunk, and ran the risk of
being fired by the management for failure to be
ready for their act.

One case in particular I remember when I was
with the R. W. Fryer’s Shows as Boss Property
Man and transportation master. While the Show
was still in Sydney, N. S. W., and a week before
ending our eight weeks’ stay, I told one of the
performers, the bearer of a brother act, that is the
man that holds the other man on his shoulders and
catches him as he jumps or turns somersaults, to
get a new trunk as he had an old tin-covered one
that had the edges all worn and broken, and every,
time any of my men handled it they were sure to
have their hands or clothes cut and torn. He
promised to get one in Melbourne. We played
Melbourne eight weeks and went from there to
Ballarat, Victoria. He still failed to get a new
trunk, and when the Show appeared in Ballarat,
his trunk was amongst the missing, dropped or
fallen off the train en route during the night. He
was fired, and a day or so after got notice from
the Government Railroad to come and get some
of his belongings that had been picked up along
the line. He got a new trunk.

Another character with the same Show was the
Musical Clown, named Shilleto, a really good fel-
low, but seldom sober. I honestly believe that if
he were sober he could not do his act. He was a

20 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

natural born musician. He could play any instru-
ment and play it well.

On arriving at any town, as a joke we would
pick some one who had a local reputation as a
ne’er-do-well and explain to him Shilleto’s weak-
ness, flattery and whiskey, telling him to go up
to Shilleto and say, “I beg your pardon, but are
you not Shilleto, the great Musical Clown, now
with Fryer’s American Show. I have seen you a
number of times in different parts of Europe but
never expected to have the pleasure of seeing you
in Australia. You are the greatest I ever saw.
Will you allow me to shake hands with you.”
Shilleto never had been in Europe, although it was

his boast that he had traveled all over that continent
with shows.

That would settle it. Shilleto’s chest would
swell up and that person was his guest for days,
introduced as his friend, from Europe, often giving
him a title. Shilleto never seemed to get wise
to the fact that in every town he would meet with
some one who had seen him in Europe and with
the same story.

It was on one of the visits to New York that
the late J. A. Bailey of Barnum and Bailey, sent
me a telegram from Chicago to meet him two days
later in New York, and, after mutual greetings,
asked me how long it would take me to get to
India. I told him I intended to stop two weeks in
New York and probably three or four. weeks in

CIRCUS DAYS aI

London. “Now, Mayer,” he said, “I want you to
get to India as soon as possible. Can you start
tomorrow?” Tomorrow being a Saturday, I told
him no, and then asked why the hurry. What was
there in India that was wanted. He then told me
that he had reliable information of a huge elephant,
one standing fourteen to fourteen and a half feet
high, in Bombay. I laughed, saying, “Mr. Bailey,
your informant must be mistaken, there are no
elephants in Bombay outside of government ele-
phants, and I am sure none of them equal or come
near that size.” I assured him that I was fairly
posted on the size of elephants in captivity through-
out India, and reminded him of my standing order
from him to secure if possible any elephant of
twelve feet or over.

Now the elephant Jumbo was an African ele-
phant and stood eleven feet two inches, and he
was thought to be the tallest elephant in captivity,
and when Mr. Bailey told me of an Asiatic elephant
fourteen to fourteen and a half feet in height, I
could not help smiling. “Mr. Bailey,” I said, “why
not cable to the American Consul at Bombay and
have him secure it for you while your representa-
tive is on his way.” No, he wanted me to start at
once, as he said the Ringling Brothers and several
others had heard of it and were sending men out,
so he wanted me to beat them to it if possible.
Money was no object as long as I was able to
secure it, and as he was absolutely in earnest, I

22 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

told him I could start the following Wednesday,
July third. He asked me to see what connections
T could make, to secure my passage for the following
Wednesday and find out the shortest possible time I
could make Bombay.

Can my readers form an idea what an Asiatic
elephant fourteen to fourteen and a half feet high,
and probably weighing from seven to eight tons,
would mean to a circus like the Barnum and Bailey
Show? What a drawing power it would be! It
would mean a million or more. No keener or more
wonderful manager than Mr. Bailey lived, but, like
many others, was often misled by wonderful tales
of strange things. Immense amounts of money
were spent in searching for. and trying to secure
freaks and abnormal animals that never existed
outside the minds of the showmen’s informants.

As I said, money was no object. Get it! That
was all there was to it. “Go get it!” sounds easy,
eh?

After looking up the sailings from London to
Bombay, I saw that one of the P. & O. steamers
leaving London on the fourth day of July was due
in Bombay on the twenty-eighth day of that month,
and told Mr. Bailey that if I left New York on the
third of July, with luck, I would be in Bombay on
the twenty-eighth.

“Can you make it, Mayer? By gosh, that’s good
time, but how are you going to do it? You have got
to go to London first.”

CIRCUS DAYS 23

I said that was true. I would leave New York
on the third and catch the steamer leaving London
on the fourth of July at Brindisi, at the tail end
of Italy, as it was due there on the fourteenth.

T left New York on the steamer New York on the
third, arrived in London on the tenth, stayed two
days in London, traveled overland through France,
Switzerland and Italy, and on the evening of the
fourteenth walked up the gangplank of the P. & O.
boat and the twenty-eighth day of July, after tran-
shipping at Aden, stepped ashore in Bombay.

Well, there was no such elephant; nobody had
ever heard of any that size, let alone seen one near
it, either in Bombay or throughout India, and I
went through India looking for it. The largest I
ever saw belonged to the Maharajah of Mysore.
He was, as nearly as I could judge, about twelve
feet, but a bad one and old, always heavily chained,
and out of the question for show purposes.

After I left Singapore, I had been thinking con-
stantly of becoming a dealer in animals. The more
I considered the idea, the more it appealed to me.
I was becoming tired of circus life, especially since
my work did not bring me into contact with the
animals. On my return to New York I found Gay-
lord and told him about my plans. He encouraged
me and introduced me to many men I was glad to
know, such as Donald Burns, who was a dealer
and had a store in Roosevelt Street.

24 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

At Donald Burns’s place I talked my venture
over with many showmen. They were all inter-
ested and wished to encourage me, but they were
frankly doubtful of my success because they knew
of old Mahommed Ariff’s monopoly. Burns offered
to help me dispose of the animals, but I was not
elated at that prospect, for Burns did not attend
very strictly to business. It was a well-known story
in the circus world that he had neglected the oppor-
tunity of handling the first hippopotamus brought
to this country. A sea captain had offered to sell
it to him for $3,000, but Burns refused to take it—
he simply wasn’t interested. A few days later it
was sold to Barnum for $10,000.

Strangely enough, it was Burns’s easygoing way
of managing his affairs that gave me my opportun-
ity of going to Singapore. I had been in New York,
making my plans and saving my money, but I didn’t
feel that I had enough to start out on the venture.
One day I was in Burns’s store when he was away,
and a sailor came in, hiding two monkeys under
his coat. He had smuggled them into the country
and wanted to sell them. The monkeys were black
with coal-dust, but one of them, I noticed, had pink
eyes. That fact interested me and I bargained for
them, buying the pair for fifteen dollars. When
the sailor left, I found a cake of soap and gave them
a bath. The monkey with the pink eyes turned out
to be pure white. Those were the days when Jim
Corbett was a great favorite, and he had recently

CIRCUS DAYS 25

become known as “Pompadour Jim.” My white
monkey had a perfect pompadour on his head. Soon
one of the newspapers printed a story connecting
Corbett and the monkey. A few days later I sold
the monkey for $1,500, and I then had enough
money to start for Singapore.

It was in April, 1887, that I left New York on

the steamer Glenderrie. I outfitted in London while
we lay over there, taking cargo aboard, and, be-
cause I was none too sure what material I should
need, I confined my outfit to clothes and guns. On
the advice of several animal-men, I bought a Win-
chester 50-110 express rifle that fired explosive
bullets. The bullets contained a detonator and
enough dynamite to stop any animal in his tracks.
My revolvers were a Colt .45 and a Smith and Wes-
son .38. The passage took seven weeks and during
that time I became well acquainted with Captain
Angus, who commanded the boat.
_ When I reached Singapore, I began at once to
learn the Malay language, which is spoken with
some variations of dialect throughout the Archi-
pelago.

I called on Mahommed Ariff every day and
learned as much as possible about the ways and
means by which he carried on his business. Even-
. tually I proposed to him that he let me act as his
agent in interviewing the captains of some of the
boats that called at the port. He agreed to my
plan because there were many captains who would

26 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

no longer do business with him—he had cheated
them once too often—and he saw in me a means
of resuming trade. We had no written agreement
and no understanding as to my commission, but I
was content to start work on that basis because it
meant experience.

It was customary for the members of the crew
of a boat to buy animals, splitting the risk between
them, and sell them when they reached European
or American ports. Soon after I had reached the
agreement with Mahommed Ariff, a German boat
came into port and I went out to interview the cap-
tain. I found that he had had previous dealings with
the Malay and that he had sworn never to buy an-
other animal from him. Finally, he agreed to make
some purchases, but he took care to draw up a
paper in which he said that he was buying on my
representation.

I reported the deal to Mahommed Ariff, but when
I went the next morning to deliver the animals, I
found that he had sent them to the boat during the
night and had collected the money for them. He
refused to give me my commission because, he said,
the captain was an old customer of his. The boat
was about to sail and there was no time to get the
captain ashore and settle the dispute. However, I
had the written statement signed by him, that the
animals had been bought from me, and I surprised
Mahommed Ariff by suing him. He was a surprised
Malay when I produced the paper in court, and he

CIRCUS DAYS 27

paid the commission and costs. The result of the
suit was that I gained a number of friends and
established a reputation.

For the time being, all deals with Mahommed
Ariff were off, of course, and so I had to look else-
where for business. I induced a Malay hadji, who
had made a pilgrimage to Mecca, to take me to his
home at Palembang, in the island of Sumatra. He
was a buyer of animals from the people of his dis-
trict and, as he did much of his selling through
Mahommed Ariff, he hesitated at taking me with
him. But I pointed out the advisability of having a
European agent—all white men were considered
Europeans. The vision of securing more business,
without being robbed constantly by Mahommed
Ariff, brought him around to my proposition, and
we went together to the Dutch General in Singa-
pore. I told the Consul General my plans, and,
after I had presented references from the bank, he
gave me a passport and a personal letter to the
Dutch Resident at Palembang. Then the old hadji
and I started off for Sumatra.

This was really my start in the business of ani-
mal collecting. At Singapore I had seen enough
to know that the work I wanted to do was not sim-
ply to sell the animals at a port, but to capture them
in the jungle. My main object in going to Suma-
tra was to live with the natives and learn their
methods and language, so that, being at the source
of the supply of animals, I could capture and sell

28 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS ; :

with practically no interference from Mahommed
Ariff. I was in constant communication with Gay-
lord, who encouraged me in my idea of becoming
a collector; also I put myself in touch with the
Australian Zoological Society. |
The district in which the hadji lived had a popu-
lation of about 100,000, made up of Dutch, Malays
and Chinese. Back of the settlement lay the jun-
gle; a dense virgin forest of trees that were bound
together by a woven mass of creepers and vines.
The trunks, rising straight and smooth for fifty or
sixty feet, burst into foliage that formed a thick,
green canopy, through which the sun rarely filtered.
On the ground, the vines, palm ferns, tall grasses
and rattan made a wall that only parangs, the native
knives, cutting foot by foot, could penetrate. The
heat of the open spaces in the tropics is blistering,
but that of the jungle is damp and stifling; moisture
accumulates, and the light breezes that blow over-
head have no chance of moving the air below, which
is filled with the smell of rotting vegetation. Espe-
cially in the morning, before the sun has a chance
to bake the water out, it is a drenching business to
go into the jungle.
otwithstanding the climate, the sight of such
country made me anxious to begin work, and I lost
no time in reporting to the Dutch Resident. The
Dutch are strict in their colonial government, and,
for the most part, they have good reason to be strict.
One white man who does not understand the natives

CIRCUS DAYS 29

and who has no consideration for them may start
trouble that will end in an uprising. The trouble
generally comes from a lack of regard for the
native’s feeling for his women. Though the Malays
live a fairly loose life, they resent having a white
man take their women and they generally vent
their displeasure in murder. That, of course, means
a government investigation, with ill-feeling rising
on both sides. To the Dutch Resident I explained
my purpose in wishing to live in the Malay quarter
with the hadji, and he gave me permission, warning
me that it would be revoked at the least sign of
trouble.

Thereupon, with the hadji leading, I took my be-
longings to his house and settled down to become
acquainted with the people. They regarded me cu-
riously, but when the hadji introduced me by saying
“FE -tu-twan banyar bye. Dare be-tolé (This man
is very good. He is true),” they accepted me with-
out question. The word of a man who has made
a pilgrimage to Mecca is not to be doubted and my
dispute with Mahommed Ariff was told and retold
until it became a wonderfully exaggerated legend
with me as the hero. They disliked Ariff because
he was forever swindling them when they capttired
animals.

It is not difficult to win the friendship of the
natives, if you know how to treat them. If they
like you, they become doglike in their devotion ; they
will do anything you tell them to do and believe

30 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

whatever you say as though it were gospel. I stud-
ied them closely, learning their language and
customs and carefully avoiding anything that might
bring me into disfavor. Day after day, I went with
them into the jungle, picking up bits of jungle-
craft. Gradually I learned to see the things that
they saw in the walls of green about us, and to
interpret the sounds—the hum of insects, the call
of birds, the chattering of monkeys and the cries
of other animals—and I spent hours with them,
squatting in their houses, busy with the rudiments
of the Malay language.

Once during the eighteen months I spent with
the hadji, I was haled before the Resident for an
investigation, but the natives stuck by me valiantly
and I was exonerated. The trouble started one
evening when I was sitting on the hadji’s veranda.
There came a scream from one of the houses, and
a native emerged, howling and swinging a knife,
slashing at every one within reach—men, women
and children. He was running amok, a victim of
the strange homicidal mania fairly common among
the Malays. When a man runs amok, he suddenly
begins to kill and he does not care whom—his own
family or people he has never seen before. The
hadji yelled to me to shoot. I pulled out my revol-
wer and fired, hitting the man in the left arm. He
stopped for a moment; the other natives seized him
and stabbed him to death. At the investigation, the
hadji explained to the Resident that I was not

CIRCUS DAYS 31

responsible for the man’s death and that I had
acted on his suggestion, to save the lives of the
natives. As the man had slashed about eight people
before I shot, the Resident ended his investigation
by thanking me and renewing my permission to
live in the Malay quarter. I returned to the hadji’s
house more popular with the natives than ever
before.

A native came running to the hadji’s house one
day with the news that he had seen a big snake: He
said that it was at least fifty feet long and as big
asatree. Knowing the Malay habit of exaggerat-
ing, I put it down as about twenty feet long; but I
gathered a crew of natives and we built a crate
from the limbs of trees and bamboo, binding it
together with green rattan. According to the
native’s tale, the snake had just swallowed a pig,
and so, knowing that where he had first been seen,
he would remain, sleeping and digesting his meal,
we postponed the capture until the next morning.

A python always kills his food by coiling around
it and crushing it to death; then he swallows it
whole, slobbering so that it will pass his throat.
During the digestive process, he generally becomes
torpid and, without putting up much fight, submits
to capture.

Before we went out for the snake, I told each
man what he was to do, explaining carefully how
I intended to get the snake into the crate. When
I was sure that they understood, we started into the

32 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

jungle, led by the native who made the discovery.
I was surprised to find the largest snake I had ever
seen. It looked at least thirty feet long and about
eighteen inches in diameter. For a moment we
stood there gasping.

The python was sleeping peacefully, digesting
the pig. I called to the men and put them to work
at staking the crate to the ground and securing it
so that the snake could not lash it around. The
crate was about eight feet long, six feet wide and
two and one-half feet deep; just large enough to
hold him and just small enough so that, once inside,
he would not be able to get leverage and break it.
‘Again I explained what each man was to do. Then
I passed a rope through the crate, tying one end
toa tree and preparing a running noose to be slipped
around the snake’s head when we were ready to
draw him forward. Two more ropes were laid
out, running from his tail. These we wrapped.
around trees on each side of the tail, and I stationed
men at the ends, showing them how they were to
pay out the rope as the snake was drawn toward
the crate, keeping it taut enough to prevent him
from lashing.

The python slept soundly through all these prep-
arations. When we were ready, I gathered the men
about me and cautioned them against becoming
excited. I warned all those who had not been
given work to do to stand back out of the way and
not to approach unless we needed them.

CIRCUS DAYS 33

With bamboo poles we prodded the snake at the
head and tail, standing by with the nooses, ready
to slip them on when he stirred sufficiently. Before
he realized what was happening, we had the head-
noose over him. The instant he felt the rope tighten
he was awake!

The natives holding the tail-ropes became ex-
cited and succeeded in getting only one of them in
place. The python suddenly leaped forward, and,
though he did not loosen the rope, whipped it out
of the hands of the men and knocked several of
them flat; then he caught one man, who had not
been able to get out of the way, and wrapped the
lower part of his body around him while five or
six feet of his tail still lashed about with the rope.
I yelled to the others to pull on the tail-rope, but the
confusion was so great that they did not hear me.
I went for the snake’s neck, which is the most tender
part of him, hoping to sink my fingers in on the
nerve center and disable him for a moment until
the men collected their senses and pulled the rope.
By jumping forward, the snake had loosened the
head-rope sufficiently to turn on me and sink his
fangs into my forearm. I sprang back.

The man who was caught in the snake’s coils
screamed, and tried to beat off the tail as it was
drawing in about him. Then the snake constricted
suddenly, breaking nearly every bone in the man’s
body and crushing the life out of him instantly.
Blood spouted from his mouth and ears, and he was

34 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

thrown limply about as the snake lashed the air.

I yelled to the men to pull the head-rope taut.
Fortunately, the tail-rope had not become loose, and
we caught it just as the snake tried to lurch for-
ward again. We allowed him to move forward
slowly, drawing his head toward the crate and, at
the same time, holding his tail until we had him
stretched out. By prodding his tail with sticks, we
forced him to uncoil and to release the body of the
native.

The head-noose had been slipped farther down
than I wanted, and was giving his head too much
play. Assuring the men that he could do no more
harm, I took three of them with me and we grabbed
the snake’s neck. He tossed us about, and we had
several minutes of exciting work before we got
the head into the open end of the crate. When the
rope was secured, we fastened another rope about
the middle of him.

The snake lashed furiously, knocking several of
the natives down. Stationing a crew of men at the
tail-rope to slacken it as we moved forward, I took
the others to the crate and set them at pulling on
the middle rope. As we dragged the python for-
ward, he coiled in the crate; then, when he was
half in, we secured the middle rope and head-rope
to trees, passed the tail-rope through the crate and
dragged the tail in. There was great rejoicing
when we closed the end of the crate and prepared
to haul it back to Palembang. We had captured a

CIRCUS DAYS 38

prize specimen. Cross of Liverpool, to whom I
sold him, told me thet he measured thirty-two feet.
I have never seen his equal in length and girth.
But, huge as he was, he coiled up comfortably in
his small quarters, promptly fell asleep and went on
digesting his pig.

II
JUNGLE STRATAGEMS

HE entire population of Palembang came to

marvel at the size of the python, and, before I
realized it, I had acquired a wonderful and wide-
spread reputation as a collector. I was soon be-
sieged by requests to go out and capture all kinds
of enormous animals—most of them imaginary, of
course, for a Malay can imagine anything. Once
he starts with “Sahya fikir (I think),” you may
expect to hear many wonderful tales if you have
time to stop and listen to him.

To Malays nothing seems impossible, and it is
difficult to hold them down to actual facts. They
will hedge about with “I think” and “barang-kéli
(perhaps)” until you give up in disgust; and then
they will offer to bring their brothers or other rela-
tives, who will repeat the performance. Sometimes
T used to Spend hours in wondering how their minds
worked, and I came to the conclusion that they talk
merely with a desire to please. They want to tell
anything you want to hear, regardless of whether
it is true or not. It is exasperating and occasionally
funny. For instance, several years after I left
Sumatra, I was traveling through the jungle, look-
ing for elephants. At one village I talked with the

6

See Pp i
AR Sy Gy ane
RETR Ne,
NS HEE Bs
. Se rear

“I looked up just as a black leopard sprang at us. Ali’s
spear whizzed by my head, hitting the animal in the side. I
fired, catching him in mid-air squarely in the chest with an
explosive bullet.”

JUNGLE STRATAGEMS 37

Malay headman, who represented the government
in that locality, and the conversation turned to
large elephants. Jumbo, who was eleven feet two
inches, had died, and I had it in my mind that I
should like to find an animal big enough to take his
place. “Have you ever seen a twelve-foot ele-
phant?” I asked the headman. And as quick as a
flash, he answered, “How many do you want?” He
could not understand why I rolled back on the floor
and laughed until my jaws ached. The headman
was a true Malay.

I found it best, in trying to get information from
a Malay, to ask my question and then, before he had
a chance to speak, say: “Jangan fikir—jawab ya
tidak. Sahya bilth fikir. (Don’t think—answer
yes or no. I'll do the thinking).” Then he would
generally admit immediately that he didn’t know,
but he would always offer to bring his brother or
some other person that he thought might know. It
is a trait that makes business relations between the
whites and the natives difficult, and is to a large
degree responsible for the fact that much of the
business in the Archipelago is done through the
Chinese. The Chinese have sufficient patience and
understanding to deal with the Malays, and they
know how to make them work.

There are two distinct classes of Malay: the
Orang Ulu, living in the jungle, and the Orang
Laut, living on the coast. Through their associa-
tion with the Chinese merchants, some of the latter.

38 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

develop into clever dealers, but for the most part
they are content to spend their lives in loafing. They
work when they need money, but they need so little
of it that they can afford to idle along through life.
When the supply of food runs low, they put out in
their boats at daybreak and return at sundown with
fish. These are sorted and left to dry, afterward
sorted again, according to their market value, and
sold to the Chinese, who ship them in palm-leaf
baskets to Singapore. Then the Malays have fin-
ished their work for another month or so. Often
the merchant advances money for future delivery,
and the Malays find themselves obliged to work for.
long periods to keep from being punished for debt.
That is a favorite method of making them work.
They consider themselves gentlemen and despise
the Chinese as pig-eating heathens. If they must
submit to working for the Chinese merchants, they
have the satisfaction of watching the coolies do
most of the hard labor while they spend their days
at games.

The day’s routine while I stayed in Palembang
with the old hadji was simple and pleasant. I lived
with him and his first wife—he had three others.
We rose early and went for a swim in the river, and
then, squatting on the floor and eating with our
fingers, we breakfasted on fish and rice. After
breakfast, the hadji and I would stretch out on our
mats and smoke and talk until my servant came to
prepare my lunch. A Malay eats but two meals

JUNGLE STRATAGEMS 39

a day—always rice and fish—but I found that two
weren’t enough for me. After lunch I slept through
the heat of the day, with the thermometer climb-
ing up to about 125°. Then, when evening came,
‘Palembang stirred into life.

The Malays liked games and they were contin-
ually after me to show them some new kind of
kindergarten pastime. It made no difference
whether it was tag or diving into buckets of treacle
after money; if it was a game, they liked it. Some
of them knew how to play chess and they gave
whole days and nights to it. They are especially
fond of gambling, and they repeatedly lose all their
money and borrow from the kind merchant, with
the result that, to make good their debts, they spend
weeks in fishing.

Occasionally I went to the Dutch quarter to seek
a few hours of companionship with white people,
but I got little satisfaction out of these visits be-
cause I could speak better Malay than Dutch, and
at Palambang there were few people who knew
English. The white people could not understand
why I preferred living with the natives, and some
of them looked down on me for it. However, that
fact did not trouble me, because I knew what I
wanted and I was on the way to getting it. With
the hadji I learned the Malay language rapidly, and
before long I knew the natives far better than the
average white man who goes to work in the Archi-
pelago. For the most part, the whites make no

40 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

effort to understand them and are thus largely
responsible for the troubles that arise. In recent
years, the attitude of the colonial governments has
changed for the better and there have been fewer
disturbances.

The natives came to have confidence in me, espe-
cially after the capture of the python, and accepted
me as a friend. Often during the evening, when
the hadji and I sat talking on the veranda, thirty
or forty natives would squat near us, listening to
the conversation. If the hadji or I cracked a joke,
they would laugh uproariously—not that they un-
derstood what had been said, byt simply because
they wanted to do the proper thing.

The hadji’s nephew, Ali, became my devoted
servant. He was about twenty years old and far
more intelligent than the average; also he was brave
and resourceful—qualities that made him my most
valuable aid until he was killed during one of our
expeditions several years later.

When I went to Singapore with the python, I
took Ali with me, and for weeks after, he enter-
tained the natives of Palembang—and me—with his
stories of what he had seen and done. It was an
excellent example of the feats that Malay imagina-
tion can perform.

In Singapore I found an agent of Cross, of Liver-
pool, of whom I have spoken, and sold the snake
to him for $300 (Mexican), which was considered
a banner price. I was glad to have the opportunity

JUNGLE STRATAGEMS 41

of making myself known to the agent, because I
foresaw future commissions. He, like many others,
was tired of doing business with Mahommed Ariff,
who took every possible advantage of his customers,
and he was pleased to find a white man in the field
of collecting.

We re-crated the python and shipped him off to
Liverpool, after feeding him twelve ducks each day
for five days. With that stomachful, he could last
out the entire voyage and arrive in England with a
good appetite.

It was difficult to get the Malays from the coast
to go up into the jungle. They fear it and have
superstitions about the hantu that live there. Most
of the men refused point-blank when I asked them
to accompany me, and others thought of various
things they had to do at Palembang. Ali was will-
ing, however, and he developed into an expert jun-
gle-man. Boatmen from the coast poled us up the
rivers, but they returned to the coast immediately
because they were unwilling to remain away from
their families.

It was after my return to Palembang that I be-
came acquainted with the inland of Sumatra and
with the Orang Ulu, who are quite different from
their brothers on the coast. They are more indus-
trious and have not lost their simplicity and honesty
by coming into contact with Chinese business
methods. They received us kindly and I had no
difficulty in making friends with them. During the

42 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

next year I spent much of my time inland, in hunt-
ing and fishing, and I discovered that Sumatra was
not the field for collecting that I had expected it to
be. But it served my purposes of learning the
language and becoming acquainted with the people
quite as well as any other part of the Archipelago
would have done; and I was too busy studying jun-
gle-craft from the Orang Ulu to think of leaving.
Ali, who was always with me, was an invaluable
aid. He was a first-rate spear-thrower, but he
wanted to be a good shot. He took great pride in
my 50-110 express gun, which he carried behind
me. He had a trait peculiar in Malays—he was
always busy. And he spent a great deal of his
energy in cleaning and polishing the gun, hoping
for the great reward of being allowed to shoot it.
Eventually he became a good marksman. The other
servant who accompanied me on my trips into
the jungle was a Chinese coolie. He had been my
rickshaw boy and I promoted him to the position of
cook and store-keeper. Ali was intensely jealous of
him but they worked well together.

Though the natives made a sport of spear-throw-
ing, they had given over that method of hunting.
They were armed with guns that I honestly believe
dated back to Revolutionary times—old, muzzle-
loading flintlocks. Where they got them I have
never been able to discover. They were fascinated
by my 50-110, of course, and, when Ali cleaned it,
they squatted about him, wide-eyed. Whenever I

JUNGLE STRATAGEMS 43

saw a native about to shoot his old muzzle-loader, I
yelled to him to wait until I got well behind, because
the thing sometimes exploded. It was a wonder to
me that it didn’t always explode. Except when he
was after small game, a native loaded his gun
nearly to the end of the muzzle with powder before
putting in the wads and a huge slug of metal. When
he pulled the trigger, he closed his eyes and
flinched because the recoil always knocked him flat.
But he expected that and cheerfully picked himself
up from the ground with the question, “Did I hit
it?” And often he did hit it—if the barrel did not
explode. I have seen some of the natives with
ordinary iron pipe fitted on their guns to replace
the barrels that had not been able to stand the
strain.

I learned in the jungle that the hunter must
always be on the lookout for the unexpected. At
first it was difficult for me to distinguish between
all the sights and sounds and to interpret each of
them, but I soon learned under the tuition of the
natives. One great danger came from the leopards,
both spotted and black, who lie along the limbs of
trees and spring without warning. A tiger slinks
away when disturbed in the daytime, but a leopard
almost always stands his ground and springs as one
passes beneath him. And he can do more biting and
scratching in one minute than a tiger can in three
or. four minutes.

Ali’s alertness saved me one day from a terrible

44 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

mauling, if not from death. We were breaking
through the jungle on our way to some traps; Ali
shouted and pushed me to one side, shoving my gun
into my hands. I looked up, setting my gun, just as
a black leopard sprang. Ali’s spear whizzed by my
head, I fired, catching the animal in mid-air squarely
in the chest with an explosive bullet. Ali’s spear hit
him in the side. I took it as a good lesson in careful-
ness. It was well enough to be on the alert for the
animal I was trailing, but it was also important to be
on the alert for the animal that might be trailing
me.

A favorite native method of hunting is with bird-
lime, which is a mucilage made from the gum of a
tree. In catching tigers or leopards, the hunter
spreads out the birdlime where they will pass and
carefully covers it with leaves. Immediately after
a cat animal has put his foot in the stuff, he becomes
so enraged and helpless that he is easily captured.
It is very much like putting butter on a house cat’s
paws to keep him busy until he becomes accustomed
toanew home. The tiger or leopard that steps in
birdlime doesn’t step gracefully out of it and run
away; he tries to bite the stuff from his feet and
then he gets it on his face. When he tries to rub
it off, he plasters it over his eyes. Finally, when he
is thoroughly covered with it, he is so helpless that
without much danger he can be put into a cage;
and there he spends weeks in working patiently to
remove the gum from his fur. Birds and monkeys

JUNGLE STRATAGEMS 45

are captured in birdlime smeared on the limbs of
trees; they stay in it until some one goes up and
pulls them out.

Another way of capturing small monkeys is by
means of a sweetened rag in a bottle. The bottle
is covered with green rattan and tied toa tree. The
monkey puts his hand through the neck and grabs
the rag. He cannot pull his hand out while it is
doubled up with the rag in it, and he hasn’t sense
enough to let go. There he sticks, fighting with the
bottle, until the hunter comes along and, by press-
ing the nerves in his elbow, forces him to open his
hand and leave the rag for the next monkey.

We snared and trapped many small animals and
occasionally built pit-traps for tapirs. The natives
sometimes used pits for marsh elephants, but I have
never, seen elephants captured in them without
being injured. They are so heavy that they hurt
themselves in falling.

The marsh elephants in Sumatra are not worth
the trouble of capturing, since they are weaker,
shorter lived and less intelligent than the other
breeds. They bring a low price, and consequently
only the babies, which can be handled and trans-
ported easily, ever reach the market. The usual
procedure among the natives is to shoot the mother
and take the baby. It is little like the real game
of elephant hunting as I found it later in Treng-
ganu and Siam.

Dynamiting for fish is a great sport among the

46 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

Malays. It is done, of course, with the maximum
chatter and excitement. The natives line the banks
of the stream while the dynamite is dropped; then
they rush off, some in boats and some of them swim-
ming, to collect the fish that come to the surface.
Drugging fish is another method of capturing
them wholesale without much trouble or work. For
this purpose the natives use a mixture of lime and
the sap from the roots of a tuba tree. They first
warn the villages down-stream so that the people
will not drink any of the water; then they pour out
the white liquid. It spreads over the stream, mak-
ing the fish mabok (drunk), as the Malays say.
They rise to the surface and are gathered into boats.
Except for such annoyances as insects and
leeches, which fastened on my skin as I walked
through the jungle, those days in Sumatra were
delightful. We hunted, fished and played games;
there was nothing to worry about and little work
to do. I was accepted by the natives as one of
them. I wore a sarong over my trousers, and I
shouldn’t have worn the trousers if my skin had not
been so sensitive to the insects. And, of course, I
had shoes—the great barrier between castes. The
Malays of the coast towns sometimes, but not often,
wear shoes, and even then it is more a matter of
showing-off than of being comfortable. I did every-
thing possible to minimize the differences between
us because I wanted to know them as they were,
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rapidly lost their self-consciousness and treated me
simply as a companion who knew more than they
knew—and who had a wonderful gun and a kit of
medicine.

In jungle countries white men are always sup-
posed to possess great knowledge of medicines and
curing, and I was often called upon to act as doctor.
At first the Malays showed some hesitancy at
accepting the érang piteh tbat (the white man’s
medicine), but gradually they became less shy.
During my circus days I had acquired a knowl-
edge of first-aid work, and in the jungle I became
quite proficient in patching people up. They be-
lieved that most ailments could be cured by their
own doctors, who heal by magic, but they were glad
to have me prescribe for them when magic failed to
work.

The Malay doctor is supposed to be favored by a
spirit, and a batu bintang (star stone) is given to
him while he sleeps. In other words, he is made
and not born a doctor. His batu bintang is just one
of the charms with which he effects cures. He has
a batu that is a petrified part of a Sembilan fish.
Water in which this has been soaked is given to
the patient to drink or is rubbed on the part affected.
Other charms are the batu lintar (thunderbolt),
which is rubbed wherever pain is felt; another
batu, also a thunderbolt, which is a piece of crystal;
a batu that is part of the backbone of some animal;
one that is another piece of crystal; and, finally,

48 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

the pelican stone. This last is the most highly
prized of all. It secures the magic presence and
cooperation of a spirit that dwells in the pelican.
When the doctor is seeking to enter the spirit
world in search of the soul of the sick person, this
spirit ensures to him a swift passage there and back.
The crystal stone is indispensable in discovering
where the wandering soul of the sick person is in
hiding and for detecting the spirit who is causing
the sickness. And the backbone batu cures dysen-
tery, indigestion and consumption.

In practicing medicine for the benefit of the na-
tives, I worked out one theory in regard to leprosy,
which is a fairly common ailment in the Archipel-
ago. I asked myself why, since a snake sheds its
skin, a man who is afflicted with disease should not
be able to do the same thing.

In Singapore there was a rich Chinese leper,
known as Ong Si Chou, who asked me repeatedly
why I did not bring him some new remedy for his
disease. Since he had a large household of servants
who took care of him, and his own carriages and
rickshaws when he traveled, he was allowed to live
untroubled by the authorities; but he was very un-
happy, because he had tried all the remedies of the
' native doctors and was steadily growing worse. At
last I told him that I had something that might
help. He asked me what it was but I would not
tell him. When he insisted, I answered, “Snakes.”

“Uh-la!” he exclaimed, waving his arms in the

JUNGLE STRATAGEMS 49

air. Then I explained my theory. The ability of a
snake to shed his skin might be transferred to ai
human being if he ate snakes; and if so, the person
would be able to shed his leprosy. Ong Si Chou
did not care for the idea at all, but I told him it was
worth trying and I argued that a snake is much
cleaner than an eel. At last he consented, and I
furnished him with a number of small pythons,
with the instructions that they were to be killed
and cleaned immediately before they were eaten.
He was to eat them raw with his rice.

I left Singapore soon after that, and, when I
returned, I found that Ong Si Chou had died. Peo-
ple thought it was a great joke on me because my,
patient had not survived the treatment, but I am
far from being convinced that the cure will not
work—or, at least, help to throw off leprosy. Ong:
Si Chou was in the last stages of the disease, and
his case was not a fair test.

After living eighteen months with the Malays in
Sumatra, I decided that I was well enough equipped
to leave and begin the work of collecting wherever
I could find the animals I wanted. I went to Singa-
pore and found that Ariff had been maligning me
to his heart’s content. I called upon him to see
what he had to say for himself and he prophesied
dismal failure for all my plans. However, I engaged
passage on a coast steamer going northward, and
stopped off at Kelantan, Patani and Singgora, in
Lower Siam. At those places I gathered all the

50 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

information I could about animals and made myself
known to dealers. I wanted to make trips to the
interior, but to do so I needed a special permit from
‘Bangkok. Instead, I made agreements with all
the dealers that they were to send their animals
to me, and arranged with the captains and chinchus
of the coast-boats for the transportation of the
crates. By offering to pay the freight and give
them a fair share of the profit, I cut off a large part
of Ariff’s business.

On my return to Singapore, I found a letter
from the director of the Melbourne Zodlogical So-
ciety, suggesting that I come to Australia with a
consignment of animals. A few weeks later I
arrived at Melbourne with a black leopard, twenty-
five small monkeys, two small orang-outangs, a pair
of civet cats and numerous other animals. Mr. La
Souef, the director, and his son, who had just been
appointed director of the zodlogical gardens at
Perth, met me at the dock. His son bought the
entire consignment. The result of this visit was my
appointment as agent of the Australian zodlogical
gardens. In return for giving them first call on any
animals that came into my hands, I was given <
retaining fee. The most important part of th.
agreement was that the animals were to be shipped
f. o. b. Singapore and that I was thus released from
all the risks of transportation.

It happened too often that animals died aboard
ship, after weeks had been spent in capturing them

JUNGLE STRATAGEMS 51

and bringing them to port, and this loss was invar-
iably borne by the dealer. Since the agreement
with the Australian zodlogical gardens was exactly
what I wanted, I returned to Singapore elated.
Ariff was crestfallen when he heard the news, and
he became more crestfallen when I called on him
and told him about the commission I had received.
from various societies in Australia. I did not want
to have him as an enemy, and I foresaw that there
would be war between us unless we came to some
sort of terms. Consequently, I told him that I
wanted to work with him, and that we could do a
great deal of business together if he would treat
me fairly. He considered the matter for a time,
and then, when he saw that I was getting much
higher prices for animals than he, he decided that
TI was right.

One of my Australian commissions was to secure
for the New Gardens, at Perth, a pair of tigers—
male and female and unrelated. I sent the word
out among animal dealers, and, shortly after, I
received a cable from a Calcutta dealer named Rut-
ledge, asking me to come at once. I took the next
boat to Calcutta and found that there were two
tigers up-country near Hazaribagh, a mica mining
district about three hundred miles northwest of
Calcutta, off the line of the railroad.

I was warned that it was a dangerous country to
go through and that the people were thieves. It
was suggested to me that I hire a native of the

52 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

locality to protect me. He would do all the stealing
he could, they told me, but he would prevent the
others from stealing.

The trip was made with a retinue of servants,
cooks, bearers and runners, each with his own
little task. It was my first experience with the caste
system, and I was amazed at the number of people
I had to take with me. We traveled by the main
road for two hundred miles; then by a branch road

.toa place called Pachamba. The remainder of the
trip was made by ox-teams and bearers, along the
line of the government rest-houses erected for the
use of officials visiting the country.

We stopped at a rest-house about three miles
from the village, and I sent the boy on ahead to
buy food for us and to get information about the
tigers. Then we engaged one of the local natives
to act as guide and guard. I was exhausted by the
trip and soon after supper I went to sleep.

A few hours after dark, I was awakened by the
most unearthly yell I have ever heard. I jumped up
and called the boy I had brought from Calcutta. He
was trembling with fright and he said that he didn’t
know what the noise meant. Remembering all the
tales I had heard about the people of this district,
I ordered the boy to bar the doors and windows and
to lay out my guns. I was well armed with auto-.
matics and revolvers and I prepared for a battle.
Presently there came another yell, answered on all
sides of us. With my guns loaded and ready, I sat

JUNGLE STRATAGEMS 53

’ there waiting. Every few minutes the yell was
repeated, and it seemed to be getting closer and
closer. At last, however, in spite of it, I fell asleep,
exhausted.

I was awakened in the morning by the cook
bringing my breakfast and the jingling of the ankle
bells of a mail-runner, who was passing the house
on his fifteen-mile run. After I had finished eating,
the cook returned with the native who had been
hired to guard us. The native salaamed and spoke
to the boy, who acted as interpreter.

“What is he saying?” I asked the boy.

“He says that he is the head watchman and he
wants to know if you slept well with him watching
over you.” The yells that had kept me up most of
the night were the “All’s well” of the watchmen.
Much to the amazement of the cook and the guard
who had come to inquire after my night’s rest, I
burst out laughing. I laughed so hard that I sat
down on the floor and put my head against my knees
—I howled.

The guard was given a few rupees and told to
keep his watchmen farther away from the house
the next night. To this day, when I think of myself
sitting up all night, dead tired and fighting off
mosquitoes, while my guards became imaginary
thieves about to attack me, I laugh.

The headman of the village arrived with several
natives and I went with them to inspect the tigers—
two beautifully marked animals. I closed the bar-

54 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

gain immediately and made arrangements to re-
cage the tigers and haul them by ox-teams to Cal-
cutta.

At Perth the directors of the New Gardens were
so pleased with the tigers that they sent me a good
bonus for my trouble in securing them. And my
story about the thieves of Hazaribagh was the joke
of the year.

There came a dearth of good animals at Singa-
pore, and so I determined to go into the state of
Trengganu to see what luck I should have at col-
lecting. Trengganu was at that time an indepen-
dent state and had never been thoroughly explored.
The Sultan who ruled over it was unwilling to have
white men in the country because he feared that
his state might become a protectorate of one of the
larger powers. He was wise enough to realize that
if a white r entered and committed some such
indiscretion as interfering with one of the native
women, the white man would be found with a kris
stuck into him. And the result would probably be
that the white man’s government would send sol-
diers to depose the Sultan and take over the govern-
ment. He wanted nothing more than to be left
alone with his country, and so he made it a law that
foreigners were not allowed.

At Singapore one heard many tales of the wealth
of animals in Trengganu, but it was generally con-
ceded that it was impossible for a white man to

.

JUNGLE STRATAGEMS 55

enter the country. For my part, though I had no
idea how to win the Sultan to my way of thinking,
I decided that it would be at least as easy as getting
a permit to go into Lower Siam. That would have
required interviewing H. H. Prince Damerong,
brother of the King of Siam and Minister of the
Interior, which was no easy matter for so obscure
a person as I.

Meanwhile the rumor reached us that an im-
mense herd of elephants was crossing from the
State of Pahang into Trengganu, and I made up my
mind to act instantly. A roaming herd of elephants
is so serious a menace to rice-crops that I thought
the Sultan might not object to having the assistance
of a foreigner in capturing them. In any event, the
chance was worth taking.

With the German captain of a small coast-
steamer that called at Trengganu evigmthree weeks,
I made arrangements to drop me there. Heprotested
that it was a senseless undertaking; that I wouldn’t
be allowed to land; that, if I was allowed to land,
the Sultan would refuse to see me; that, if the Sultan
granted me an interview, he would surely refuse
to let me go inland; and that, if he allowed me to go
inland, I would be killed by the natives. All the
way up the coast, I listened to his arguments, and,
when he asked me if I had changed my mind, I
answered, “You just put me down on the beach,
blow your whistle and go along.”

56 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

Weeks later, when he returned and asked about
me, the natives replied, “Sir, the master is in the
jungle catching elephants.”

I was on the biggest and most exciting elephant
hunt of my life.

ITI
ELEPHANTS

I WAITED on the beach at Trengganu for a few

minutes, until the German steamer was well out
of the way; then I sent my Chinese boy into the
village to engage living quarters. He returned pres-
ently with the information that a Chinese trader
had offered to put me up. Ali and I followed him
up the street of the village, with a group of inqutsi-
tive natives at our heels.

Soon after I had finished my first meal at the
trader’s house, a funku (petty prince) appeared
with his followers. The meeting was solemn and
formal, and he went through the ritual of inquiring
after my health, though I could see that inquisi-
tiveness was gnawing at him. At last he asked
bluntly what my object was in coming to Treng-
ganu.

“T have come to see the Sultan on important
business.”

He told me that it would be impossible for me
to see the Sultan and offered to deliver my mes-
sage. I waved him aside and told him that I must
see the Sultan personally.

“Impossible,” he replied, and departed in the
direction of the palace. The palace was a half-
finished, two-story brick dwelling. The Sultan had

57

58 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

never been able to gather enough money to have
the building completed; but, at that, it was the most
imposing house in Trengganu.

An hour later, I started out with Ali and. the
Chinese boy for the palace, to pay my respects to
the Sultan and. make another request for an inter-
view. At the gate I was met by a tunku, who told
me that the Sultan would not receive me. I re-
turned to the trader’s house and slept through the
hot afternoon. When evening came, I went again
to the palace and met with the same reception.

Twice a day for the entire week I called at the
palace. I appeared to be making no headway, but
I had been associated with the Malays long enough
to know that the Sultan could not bear the strain
much longer. Also, I knew that if I gave a tunku
the least inkling of my purpose, all my hopes of
hunting in Trengganu would be wrecked.

The Sultan gave in at last; he sent word to the
gate that he would receive me, and I was ushered
into the “reception room” of the palace. The Sultan,
a middle-aged, scholarly-looking man, was waiting
for me, with his retinue squatted around him. I
gave him my card.

“What is it?” he asked.

“My name,” I replied, bowing.

“What country are you from?”

“America.”

He looked surprised and asked if I was English,
French or Dutch; he thought that all white men

ELEPHANTS 59

must be of one of those races and that America
was probably a colony.

Fortunately, I had some maps with me. I spread
them on the floor and held a class in geography,
with the Sultan and his retinue bending over me,
listening intently. The Sultan was as enthusiastic
on the subject of America as if he had discovered
the country. I told him about our president and
how he is elected, about the states and governors
and the legislatures and Congress.

At last he lost interest in America and asked
why I had come to Trengganu. I told him I had
come to trap animals and I wanted his permission.
He shook his head and replied that there were no
animals in Trenggant.

“Tf you will send your messengers out,” I an-
swered, “you will find that an immense herd of
elephants is crossing from Pahang into your
country.”

“How do you know?”

“T heard.” It was a Malay answer, and I could
see that he was interested. A roaming herd of
elephants is dangerous; it spoils rice crops, terror-
izes the natives—and most important of all—re-
duces the Sultan’s income.

He ordered coffee and Malay cakes and plunged
into thought. The coffee was muddy and bitter,
but I drank it joyfully because I knew the Sultan,
being worried, would probably see the wisdom of
allowing me to enter his country and capture the

60 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

elephants. Also I suggested that he would receive
a bonus on each animal I captured. He nodded
and asked me to come to the palace the next day.

Each day for three weeks I called on him and
spent hours in telling him of my travels. And he
told me something of the worries of being a Sultan.
He was afraid that one of the big powers would
establish a protectorate over Trengganu, depose him
and reduce his people to slavery. He knew very
little of foreigners, but he had come to the conclu-
sion that the best thing to do was to keep them out.
What did I think was the best plan? We held
long conferences, in which I enlightened him on
the ways of white men. The subject of elephant .
hunting scarcely came into the conversations, but
I knew that he had sent messengers out to see if
there was any truth in my story about the herd
crossing from Pahang. I was slowly winning his
confidence; everything depended upon the truth of
that rumor I had picked up in Singapore.

Exactly three weeks after our first meeting, he
greeted me with the words: “Tian chakap bétul
(Sir, you spoke the truth).”

“T always speak the truth,” I answered, as if I |
were annoyed. The messengers had returned with
the news that the herd had been seen near the
Pahang River.

He asked what I proposed to do, and I drew a
diagram of the trap I wanted to build. He asked
if it would not be a better plan to shoot the big

ELEPHANTS 61

elephants and capture the young. I put stress on
the royalty payments he would receive, and thus I
won him to my way of thinking.

He assigned his nephew Omar—a tunku—to the
duty of assisting me, and gave him full power to
force as much labor as we might need. A few.
days later, Omar and I, accompanied by the Sultan,
sailed down the coast to the Pahang. It was a
wide, deep river, infested with crocodiles; settle-
ments dotted the banks. At each of these we
stopped and called on the headmen to conscript
labor.

Since the men had to supply their own food and
travel in their own boats, the cost of the expedition
was reduced to nothing. We arranged that the
men might be replaced by others from their villages,
because they were loath to remain long away from
their families.

Five days after leaving the capital, we arrived
at the place where the herd had been located. We
disembarked. There followed two weeks of hunt-
ing before we found the spoor that told us we had
reached the elephants.

It was dense jungle; undergrowth, creepers and
vines bound the trees together. The lack of sun-
light and the dense atmosphere made progress
slow. Sometimes the task of driving elephants
on foot through such country seemed hopeless, but
I kept the men at work, hacking out trails with
parangs—their big knives. The insects were

62 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

frightful, and we were all covered with bites. 1
developed fever and went about so “groggy” that
I was not at all sure of myself; but huge doses of
quinine and the excitement of tracking so large a
herd kept me going.

The scouts reported that the herd numbered
about one hundred. I assigned fifty men to sur-
round the elephants and keep them moving in a
circle within a definite area while we built the
stockade.

The work of making the trap was prodigious.
Trees, twenty to twenty-five feet in length and a
foot and a half in diameter, were cut down and
dragged through the jungle for half a mile or more
to the spot I had selected. These were planted five
feet in the ground and braced by three smaller
trees, so that they could stand the enormous pres-
sure of elephants trying to lunge through them.
The trap was round—about seventy-five feet in
diameter—with two wings, each one hundred feet
long, converging to the entrance. After planting
and bracing all the posts, we bound them together
with heavy ropes made of twisted rattan, and then
covered them with vines and leaves. For all this
work the natives had no tools except their par-
angs. It was amazing to see the rapidity with
which they cut down the big trees and slashed trails
through the jungle. Omar and I were with them
constantly, keeping up their enthusiasm and excite-
ment.

ELEPHANTS 63

In building the trap we took great care not to
disturb the jungle through which the elephants
were to be driven. Like all jungle animals, elephants
can see at night, and there is always the danger of
a stampede unless precautions are taken against
arousing suspicion. The jungle leading up to the
wings was untouched; and the wings and the trap
could scarcely be distinguished from the dense
growth that surrounded them. In the runway and
in the trap the jungle was still standing without
injury.

When the stockade was completed, an old Sia-
mese priest offered to perform the ceremony that
would bring the blessing of the deity of the jungle
upon the drive. A white cock was found and fast-
ened in the center of the trap. The priest selected
a hundred men and stationed them near the entrance
with fruits and branches of trees; then, with two
natives, he withdrew into the jungle. Presently we
heard them shouting. They came through the un-
dergrowth, chanting and striking the trees with
their spears and parangs. The priest rushed
through the runway into the trap and seized the
cock. With his knife he severed its head. Then,
while the natives joined in a chorus of shouts, he
ran about the trap, sprinkling the blood. Instead
of coming out through the gate, he crawled between
the posts. The ceremony ended, and the natives
were ready to begin the hunt.

Word came from the men who were watching

64 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

that the herd was four miles away. I gathered the
natives around me, explained all the details of the
drive and assigned men to the various tasks. Then
we started in a body to get behind the herd. Every
five hundred yards, I stationed a man in a tree to
steer the drive.

Driving elephants at night is a slow, trying, dan-
gerous job. It means fighting every foot of the way
through dense jungle and keeping up a continual
hubbub of tom-toms and shouts. The elephants wish
to avoid the noise and they move slowly away from
it, crashing through the trees and vines. The men
who are directly behind have the easiest time, for
they can follow the trails broken by the elephants;
those on the side must cut trails with their parangs.
No lights can be used, and care must be taken to
avoid the little elephants, which roam about, investi-
gating the noise. If they see a man and give the
danger-signal, the entire herd stampedes.

When we arrived behind the herd, I spread the
men out in a U formation, warning them to make
no noise until the signal was given. With Ali stand-
ing near me with my express rifle, I waited until
darkness came; then I gave the signal and started
forward. Ali, Omar, the priest, my Chinese boy
and a few others followed along behind me, shout-
ing. The noise was taken up on each side of us, and
presently we heard the elephants moving forward,
throwing their great hulks against the jungle
growths. The night was black, and we stumbled

ELEPHANTS 65

on, guided only by the calls of the men in the trees.
Insects swarmed about us, biting until we were
frantic. Sometimes the noise on either the left or
the right suddenly increased, and we knew that the
herd had veered in that direction and that the men
were frightening them off.

Dawn came, and we found that we had driven
them a mile and a half. It had been exhausting
work. I posted guards to watch the herd, and we
slept until late in the afternoon. Our bodies were
covered with welts from insect bites and the sting
of nettles and were torn and scratched by the sharp
vines; and I was throbbing with the fever. When
darkness came again, it seemed to me that the enter-
prise was all a wild nightmare.

Early the next day the stampede hit us without
warning. A small elephant, straying from the herd,
saw some of the men on the right; he ran back,
trumpeting the danger. Then the bellowing herd
came down upon us.

Ali shoved my rifle into my hands and I jumped
behind a tree. The Siamese priest stumbled and fell.
Before I could shoot, a big bull elephant stepped
on him and tore him in two, throwing the upper
portion of his body over my head. I was spattered
with blood. Elephants, bellowing furiously, rushed
past us; men screamed and scrambled for places of
safety. The immense animals loomed up in the
darkness for a second and then disappeared. In
their excitement some collided with trees.

66 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

There was no need to shoot; it would have been
like holding up a fan to fend off a cyclone. I hug-
ged my tree, keeping my gun in position. I was
discouraged; our efforts had been wasted and the
herd was scattered. That would be a fine story to
take back to the Sultan.

When the elephants had passed, I called to the
men. We lighted torches and searched for the
injured. Three had been killed and twelve hurt, and
I was thankful there weren’t more casualties. We
buried the dead. Ali brought up my medical kit
and helped me dress the wounds.

After a few hours’ sleep, I found that I wasn’t
quite so discouraged, and so I called the men to-
gether and lectured them on the necessity of being
careful. They showed no signs of mutiny, and so
we started off again in search of the herd. It was
not difficult to find them, for they cut a swath in
the jungle to the point where they stopped, five miles
from the scene of the stampede.

Again I posted guides in the trees and spread
out the drivers. Every man was alert, and, when
night ended, we were considerably nearer the trap.
In the minds of the elephants there seemed to be
no connection between the noise that was driving
them and the men they had seen the night before,
and they went ahead peaceably.

Leaving scouts to watch the herd, I gathered
the men together and praised them. Success re-
kindled the enthusiasm that had been damped by the

ELEPHANTS 67

stampede, and, when we threw ourselves down to
snatch a few hours’ sleep, we were convinced that
the drive would proceed without trouble. The scouts
reported that the herd was slightly depleted, but,
even so, it was the largest herd that any of us
had ever seen, much less driven.

At nightfall, each day, the men were again in
position, waiting for my signal; and, three nights
later, we approached the stockade. The men went
wild with delight. And above the uproar, I could
hear the calls of the guides in the trees, telling us
our distance from the trap.

The big beasts jammed in the runway between
the wings, heaving and struggling, and forcing
those ahead of them into the trap. The walls of the
wings groaned as they threw their bodies against
the posts. The elephants bellowed, and the natives
kept up a continual pandemonium. I mounted the
platform and looked down; I could see nothing but
a tossing flood of black that poured slowly from
the runway into the trap.

When the last elephant was inside, the ropes that
held the gate were cut. The gate crashed down;
bars were run through the sockets; the elephants
were trapped.

On my platform I shouted as loudly as any of the
Malays. Torches were lighted and the men began
dancing. I slipped to the ground and warned them
against climbing up on the walls of the stockade,
for I was fearful that the sight of men might en-

68 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

rage the elephants. If the beasts suddenly took
it into their heads to charge the wall in a body,
some of the posts might give way. I could hear
them milling around inside the trap, bellowing and
tearing up the jungle in an effort to find a way out.
Through the remainder of the night the natives
danced, ate and drank. Then, when dawn was
beginning to light up the sky, I climbed to the plat-
form again and looked down into the trap. There
were sixty elephants!

The men, armed with long, spiked poles, mounted
to the running platform on the top of the posts,
and the celebration was renewed. I stood there,
breathless, wondering how many of them, in their
excitement, would fall off the platform into the
trap. But none did fall, and they fended off the
charges of the elephants by sticking them in the
heads and bodies with their spikes.

Omar immediately sent a messenger to the Sultan
with the good news, and the word passed from vil-
lage to village. Natives poured in to inspect the
catch, and the messenger returned with the news
that the Sultan was on his way. It was a historic
occasion in Trengganu. The Sultan had never been
in the interior of his own country before, and never
had there been such an elephant hunt in the state.
Omar busied himself with the details of the royal
reception while I cared for the catch.

We cut holes in the rattan webbing between the
posts and enticed the small elephants to come out.

Aig. |
Wa
OM iy

eye oe ah
Reig AOU yaiigus
i ” AV act : at “) Mee

‘i
We
y }

“I climbed to the platform and looked down into the trap.
There were sixty elephants.”

ELEPHANTS 69

There were several babies in the lot, and they soon
became playful and affectionate. Baby elephants
are just three feet high at birth and weigh about
two hundred pounds. They grow an inch each
month. We made pets of them and amused our-
selves with weaning them. We did this by taking a
pail of warm milk and dipping the babies’ trunks
into it, then doubling the trunks up and putting
them into their owners’ mouths, and finally squirt-
ing milk in with a squirt gun. The babies soon
learned to imitate this procedure. They were mis-
chievous little animals, full of fun and inquisitive-
ness. Hour after hour, I played with them and
laughed until I ached.

The Sultan arrived with his retinue, and we gave
him a ceremonial greeting. Deputations from all
the villages were present, and Omar requisitioned
food for a great feast. The Sultan had little to
say about the elephants until I took hin up on the
platform where he could count them for himself.
For a minute he looked at them, wide-eyed; then
he repeated, “Sir, you spoke the truth.”

“T always speak the truth,” I replied, and I could
see by his expression that he believed me. He was
convinced that I was honest. I knew that I had his
protection for any expeditions I might undertake
in Trengganu. His friendship had been difficult
to win, but it was worth the trouble—quite aside
from the value of the elephants. Trengganu was
virgin country, filled with animals that my custo-

70 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

mers wanted to buy, and I had the exclusive privi-
lege—so far as foreigners were concerned—of
hunting there. And, since the Sultan received a
bonus on the animals captured, he provided me with
labor.

The Sultan remained several days and we spent
much of our time in talking over the problems of
government. These conversations ended by my be-
coming a sort of foreign adviser in all dealings with
European countries. Later, before Trengganu was
made a British protectorate, he awarded me some
valuable tin concessions. The new arrangement
under the British government was made satisfac-
torily; he received a suitable pension and he passed
happily into a purely honorary position in his state,
relieved of all the complexities of political admin-
istration. When I last saw him, he was living in
indolent comfort, surrounded by his wives—and his
two-story brick palace was at last completed.

It took more than a week after the departure of
the Sultan of Trengganu for the natives to get
their fill of celebration. While they feasted and
danced, I made my plans for the stocks in which the
sixty elephants were to be broken.

The breaking of elephants, especially so large a
herd, is a long, tedious job. I was thankful that I
had Prince Omar with me to keep the natives work-
ing. The hunter, who kills and skins his animals,
has a simple life compared with the collector, who
must not only take the animals alive and uninjured,

ELEPHANTS 7r

but convey them through miles of jungle country to
a port. Months of hard labor were before us, and
the success of the expedition was by no means as-
sured, even though we had our elephants safe in
the stockade. It was to be a great test in managing
the natives.

There is only one thing that a Malay values, and
that is his kris—his knife. To lose this cherished pos-
session means to lose honor. There is a saying to
the effect that money will buy everything but a
lucky kris. Their disregard of money makes all
dealings with Malays extremely difficult, and their
dislike for work has completely blocked more than
one project. Tomy mind, the Malays are the laziest
people in the world.

When work is an exciting or amusing game, such
as the hunt, they will go on for days without signs
of fatigue. They seem to keep alive by some fanatic
energy. But when work is just plain labor, they
will say “Wait,” or “I must think.” Or a Malay
may say candidly: “Sir, I have just had plenty to
eat. I am content.” Many times I have had a
Malay tell me, when I asked him to do some work,
that he had enough rice and fish for the day and
that he might die during the night. It is an unan-
swerable argument. Tomorrow’s food can be found
when tomorrow comes.

The Malay’s food is simple and his clothes are
few. With no more effort than dropping a few
seeds and covering them with earth, he can grow

72 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

most of the food he needs, aside from his rice and
fish. One catch of fish will supply his family for
weeks and give him a surplus to sell to the Chinese
traders. With the money he can buy some cloth
and a little powder. Six or seven good-sized chick-
ens cost one Mexican dollar; eggs cost one Mexican
cent; yams, one or two cents each; pineapples, two
or three cents. Why worry about the tomorrow
that may never come? Why should a Malay gentle-
man, who believes in Allah and whose stomach is
full, do the labor that can be done by heathen, pig-
eating Chinese?

“Will you row me across the river?” I asked a
Malay one day.

“Tuan, I have eaten and I have had plenty,” he
responded. “You may take my boat and row your-
self across the river. Tomorrow, if Allah grants
me life and if I need the boat, I will swim over for
it.”

That Malay trait of living for the moment has
led many a European to murder, and more than
once it made me feel like running dmok. It is mad-
dening. Getting work out of Malays is a fine art,
a science to be learned only after years of patient
arguing and cajoling. And yet, with all their lazi-
ness, they are lovable people. In most cases they
are brave and willing to do anything for a person
they like.

Under the circumstances, sick with fever and
worn out by the drive through the jungle, I was en-

ELEPHANTS 73

titled to some doubt as to what the next few months
would bring. The Sultan had left strict orders
that I was to be provided with all the labor I needed,
and Omar was there to assist me. However, I
waited with anxiety to see what the attitude of the
natives would be after they had finished celebrating,
and I was encouraged to find that I had earned the
name Tuan Gajah—Sir Elephant. They were deep-
ly impressed by the power of the white man who
had engineered a great drive of sixty elephants
and who owned the exceedingly marvelous gun
that his man, Ali, displayed with such proud osten-
tation.

Inasmuch as they were receiving no money for
their work, they had some right to object, but I hu-
mored them with promises of celebrations and
games. The white man’s camp became a popular
place in Trengganu. Wonderful tales of what was
done there spread through the country, and the men
who had been to the camp could command an audi-
ence in their home compounds when they returned.
~The elephant drive was a historic event in the coun-
try, and henceforth we had little trouble with labor.

The work of breaking wild elephants must be
carried on with painstaking exactness, for one ele-
phant can create havoc in a few seconds if the men
lose control. The first task is the building of the
stocks where the elephants are to be held while they
become acustomed to men; then comes the work of
driving into the ground, about four feet apart, two

74 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

rows of heavy stakes, leading from the trap to the
stocks. Also, next the trap, a small enclosure, four
or five feet wide by fifteen long, is built at the end
of the passageway formed by the stakes. The piles
of the trap are removed from the entrance to this
enclosure and bars are substituted. Since the ele-
phants were given practically no food during the
time they were kept in the trap, they were half
starved when the breaking commenced. In their
weakened condition they were much less dangerous
to handle, and, too, they could then be fed in such
a way as to impress upon them the fact that good
behavior brings good treatment.

The young elephants required no breaking, and
so they were lured from the trap with food. They
roamed about the camp, playing and watching op-
erations.

As soon as the tuskers were taken from the trap,
they were killed for their. ivory. The tusks were
worth almost as much as I could get for the live
animals, and tusks are far easier to handle than
animals that have to be broken and fed. Also, as
the animal dealers say, the elephant might “eat and
die.” I did the killing with my express rifle. The
explosive bullets produced instant death. Another
way of killing an elephant is to strangle him by
running two ropes around his neck and having
elephants pull him in opposite directions.

As soon as all the equipment for breaking was
ready, I instructed the natives in their work. With

ELEPHANTS 78

a\select crew of men, I rehearsed all the details of
what we were going to do and how we were going
to do it. Finally, I ordered food placed in the en-
closure and the bars drawn. The nearest elephant
saw the food, sniffed, flapped his ears and walked
in. Breaking commenced.

As soon as the elephant enters the small enclosure,
the bars behind him are slipped. He eats the food
so eagerly that he does not realize quite what is
happening and the men put the knee- and foot-
hobbles on him. These allow him about one quarter
of his normal step. Rattan ropes are fastened to
his feet and drawn out through the bars; his trunk
is secured so that he car do no damage with it.

There is a great deal of misunderstanding about
what an elephant can do with his trunk. It is a
sensitive organ and he never uses it for heavy labor,
but he can strike a terrific blow with it. I have seen
many a man’s ribs and arms broken when he ne-
glected to take the proper precautions. In approach~
ing a dangerous elephant, a man should come up
sideways, with the nearer arm folded to protect
the ribs. Then, if the elephant strikes, he should
try to catch the blow on the upper part of the arm,
where there is the most flesh to protect the bone.
Such a blow never knocks a man flat; it sends him
spinning like a top until he tumbles over.

The elephant uses both his trunk and his lungs in
calling, and he has a large variety of sounds and
combinations of sound with which to express him-

76 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

self. When rushing an enemy, he trumpets shrilly;
when enraged by wounds, he grumbles hoarsely
from his throat; he expresses fear by a shrill, brassy
trumpet and a roar; and pleasure by a continued
low squeaking through the trunk. When apprehen-
sive of danger or when attempting to intimidate
an enemy, he raps the end of his trunk smartly on
the ground and trumpets. The peculiar noise sounds
like that produced by the rolling up of a sheet of tin.

In a moment of danger, the elephant coils his
trunk to protect it from injury. When he is en-
gaged in heavy work, such as piling lumber, he may
use his trunk to balance the load he is carrying on
his tusks, but never to bear part of the burden. If
an unharnessed elephant must pull a rope, he holds
it in his mouth, taking good care to keep his trunk
out of the way. It has happened many times that
an elephant-keeper—not a trainer, for a trainer
knows better—has used a hook a little too freely on
an elephant’s trunk. If he doesn’t get killed, he
picks himself up several yards from where he was
standing. A trainer is invariably pleased at such
an occurrence, because it shows that the keeper was
abusing the elephant and has merely received his
deserts. The elephant is a good, faithful animal,
and he does not attack his keeper without excuse,
except when he is in what is called the “must”
period, which I shall describe later.

When the elephant is secured by hobbles, foot-
ropes and trunk-ropes, the bars leading from the

ELEPHANTS "7

enclosure are removed. The foot-ropes have been
fastened to the stakes and are loosened as the ele-
phant walks out. The men holding the ropes at-
tached to the fore feet wind them around the two
stakes ahead, and those holding the ropes attached
to the hind feet wind them about the first stakes. In
this way the animal is drawn forward, step by step,
toward the stocks, while natives prod him from be-
hind with poles. If he tries to bolt, he simply falls
over. It is a difficult, trying job, because the ele-
phant is still vicious.

The stocks are built in covered stalls, so that each
elephant is separate from the others. Two large
uprights are driven into the ground in the shape
of a V; the elephant’s head is drawn between them,
and they are pulled together at the top so that he
is held securely behind the ears. At the corners
are uprights, with poles to fence him in, running
between them. These poles, located a trifle below
his belly, support two cross-bars, one just behind his
fore legs, and the other in front of his back legs. In
this position it is impossible for the elephant to lie
down or to move; he can wiggle his legs and wave
his trunk, but that is all.

The elephant remains in the stocks for about two
weeks. During that time he is fed and petted by a
keeper appointed for that particular job. The keep-
er crawls over his back and rubs him behind the
ears and gives him water, fruit and bamboo shoots.
The elephant learns not to be afraid when a man is

78 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

near him, and he gradually becomes more docile.
During these two weeks he is fed very lightly be-
cause he must be kept in a weakened condition.

After two or three weeks, according to the dis-
position of the elephant, ropes are again attached to
his feet, and he is led out of the stocks. This time
he wears only the knee-hobbles, which allow him
more play. Eight or ten men hold each of the ropes;
his keeper sits on his head with a prod; another
crew hold the rope attached to his trunk; and six
or eight men follow with rattan whips. The men
with the whips beat him continually. At first, in the
excitement, he does not mind the whipping; then
he finds the pain unbearable. The men on the trunk-
ropes lead him about from right to left, while the
men on the foot-ropes stand ready to trip him if
he tries to bolt. At last he gives a bellow of pain
and the whipping stops.

This one bellow marks a surprising change in the
animal. His spirit is broken and he acknowledges
that man is his master. The fact that he is instantly
fed and petted helps him to make up his mind, of
course, and to forget about the old, wild ways of
the jungle. Thereafter, a keeper who does not
deliberately make him angry can handle him easily.
His schooling is brief and he learns readily to turn,
kneel, back and pull. In return he is given plenty...
of food and is tied to a tree instead of being put in
the stocks.

It occasionally happened that an elephant refused

ELEPHANTS 79

to bellow. In that case, I had the men lead him out
to be shot, for I knew I should be wasting time in
trying to break him.

The opinion is generally held by those who have
had the best opportunities of observing the elephant,
that the popular estimate of its intelligence is a
greatly exaggerated one; that instead of being the
exceptionally wise animal it is believed to be, its
sagacity is of a very mediocre description. Of the
truth of this opinion no one who has lived amongst
elephants can entertain a doubt.

The elephant’s size and staid appearance, its
gentleness, and the ease with which it performs
various services with its trunk, have probably given
rise to the exalted idea of its intellect. Amongst
those not intimately acquainted with it, and it being
but little known outside of its native countries, what
is known of it justly make it a general favorite and
leads to tales of intelligence being not only accepted
without investigation, but welcomed with pleasure.

One of the strongest features in the domesticated
elephant’s character, is its obedience. It is also read-.
ily taught, but its reasoning faculties are far below
those of a dog, and possibly other animals, and in
matters beyond the range of its daily experience, it
evinces no special discernment; while quick at com-
prehending anything taught to it, it is decidedly
wanting in originality.

Let us consider whether the elephant displays
more intelligence in its wild state than other ani-

80 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

mals. Though possessed of a proboscis, which is
capable of guarding it against such dangers, it read-
ily falls into a pit dug for catching it, only covered
with a few sticks and leaves. Its fellows make no
effort to assist the fallen one, as they might easily
do by kicking in the earth around the pit, but they
flee in terror.

It commonly happens that a young elephant falls
into a pit near which the mother will remain until
the hunter comes, without doing anything to assist
it, not even feeding it by throwing in a few branches.
This, no doubt, is more difficult of belief to most
people than if they were told that the mother sup-
plied it with grass, brought water in her trunk, or
filled up the pit with trees and effected the young
one’s release.

Whole herds of elephants are driven into ill con-
cealed enclosures which no other wild animal could
be got to enter, and single ones are caught by their
legs being tied together by men under cover of a
couple of tame elephants. Elephants which happen
to effect their escape are caught again without trou-
ble. Even experience does not bring wisdom.

These facts are certainly against the conclu-
sion that the elephant is an extraordinarily shrewd
animal, much less one possessed of the power of rea-
soning in the abstract, with which he is commonly
credited. I do not think I traduce the elephant, when
I say it is in many things a stupid animal, and I can
assert with confidence that all the stories I have

ELEPHANTS 81

heard of it, except those relating to feats of strength
or docility performed under its trainer’s or keeper’s
direction, are beyond its intellectual power and are
but pleasant fiction.

It often happens that persons who do not under~
stand elephants give them credit for performing
actions which are suggested to them, and in which
they are directed by their trainer or by the mahout
on their necks. I think that all who have had to deal
with elephants, will agree in saying that their good
qualities cannot be exaggerated and that their vices
are few, and only occur in exceptional animals. The
not uncommon idea that elephants are treacherous
and retentive of injury, is a groundless one.

Elephants do not push with their foreheads or
the region above their eyes, but with the base of the
trunk or snout, about one foot below the eyes.
Elephants are poor sighted, and are so intent on
being off when thoroughly started, that I have been
almost brushed against without being discovered.

The rapidly advancing line of huge heads and
cocked ears bobbing up and down as the elephants
come rushing on, leveling everything before them,
is a trying sight, and at first one requires some
nerve—and the reflection they are escaping, not
charging—to stand still.

If circumstances ever occur to make a run un-
avoidable, the pursued hunter should always take
down hill and choose the steepest place at hand, as
the elephants fear to trust themselves on a rapid

82 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

descent at any great pace; uphill, or on the level,
man would be immediately overtaken. When
elephants are close at hand, standing in indecision,
no one should shout to turn them; a charge by one
or more of them is sure to be made if they are sud-
denly started at this time.

Eight months passed at breaking elephants. I
was sick with fever and dysentery and I was glad
when we could break camp. Riding on the head of
an elephant, I led my catch through the jungle to
port. Once again I paid my respects to the Sultan,
who told me that I might hunt in Trengganu when-
ever I pleased. A year before, I should have been
wildly delighted at the prospect of having Treng-
ganu open to me under his protection, but now, with
my health broken, I did not care much if I never
saw the country again.

I arranged for the keeping of the animals until
they could be brought by boat to Singapore, and then
I caught the first coast steamer south, taking four
elephants with me. At Singapore I found that the
story of the big capture had been the talk of the city
for months. In fact, several days after I arrived,
I went to call on my former enemy, Mahommed
Ariff, and he took off his turban and bowed. We
had many dealings after that, and he always treated
me with the greatest respect and honesty.

When I was leading one of the smaller elephants
through the street on my way to the animal house

ELEPHANTS 83

I had rented in Orchard Road, I was approached by
an Arab.

“Tian mau jial? (Sir, do you wish to sell?)”
he asked.

“Of course,” I answered. I was sick and tired
and I did not want to be bothered.

He persisted. “Tian, how much?”

“All of them or just one?”

“That one,” he answered, pointing to the elephant
I was leading.

I thought he was asking just out of curiosity, and
so I set a price that I thought would silence him—
$3,000 Mexican.

“Tdaan, truly will you sell it for that?”

“Yes.”

He followed me to the animal house, and I won-
dered what he had on his mind. Asa matter of fact,
I would have sold the elephant for $450, because it
was young and small. At the animal house, he
again asked me if I would sell for $3,000; then he
undid several of the shirts he was wearing and
pulled forth an old wallet. He gave me $500 to
bind the bargain and called a friend of his to act
as witness. When he left to get the rest of the
money, I went to the stall where I had placed the
animal and examined it.

It didn’t take me long to discover why the Arab
was willing to pay $3,000. The little elephant had
twenty toes instead of the usual eighteen. Twenty-
toed elephants are held in veneration throughout

84 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

India, and are keenly sought by all the rajas and
maharajas for the prosperity they are supposed
to bring. They are guarded more carefully and
quartered even more sumptuously than the white
elephants of Siam, and the price they will bring is
determined almost entirely by the amount the rajas
can gather together. My little twenty-toed ele-
phant was a faultless specimen. He was about five
years old and stood four and a half feet high. His
head was perfectly shaped; his back was straight
and absolutely even with the top of his head.

i was naturally disgusted to think that I had let
such a bargain slip out of my hands, and, when the
Arab returned, I blamed him for cheating me when
I was sick with the fever. I abused him and his
ancestors and gave a great show of indignation.
He begged me to take the money and give him the
elephant; I refused the money and told him to take
the elephant out of my sight.

“T have put a curse on him,” I said. “He will be
dead within twenty-four hours.”

At this he burst into tears, begging me to remove
the curse. He said that he was a poor man and
that the elephant’s death would ruin him. Finally
we reached a compromise. He would pay me an
extra $500, and I would arrange transportation to
India for the elephant. Then, if the sale proved
profitable, he was to return to Singapore and pay
me an additional $500. He swore by Allah and the
Prophet that he would keep his word. So I re-

ELEPHANTS 85

moved the curse and took his money and he de-
parted happily. A month later he returned and paid
me the $500. He had sold the elephant to the Ma-
haraja of Mysore for 10,000 rupees. The Arab
later bought four large elephants from me.

During my nineteen years in the Malay Archi-
pelago I captured hundreds of elephants, but none
of the herds was so large as my first catch. And,
though I always looked carefully at the elephant’s
feet before I sold him, never again did I tag one
with twenty toes.

Of all the animals I have handled in my experi-
ence as a collector, I prefer elephants. They are
interesting and amusing beasts, and, once broken,
they become hard-working and affectionate. They
never show any inclination to go back to the jungle,
even when used for the purposes of running wild
elephants. In Siam all the driving of herds into
the traps is done on female elephants, and their
presence calms the herd. I have seen the tame ele-
phants press in upon a wild elephant, holding him
while he docilely allowed himself to be hobbled.

, The hunts in Siam are for tuskers, and the fe-
‘ males are for the most part allowed to run free
again to breed. The tuskers are used in the teak.
forests for handling logs. The females bear young
about every three years until they reach an age of
from seventy to seventy-five years. The period of
carrying varies from eighteen months in the case
of a female baby to twenty-one months in the case

86 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

ef a male. A baby elephant, as I have already
written, weighs approximately two hundred pounds
at birth and stands thirty-six inches high. It suckles
from six to nine months. The breasts of the female
are located just back of the fore legs, and the baby
runs its trunk up along its mother’s side while nurs-
ing. Its next food is fruit and the tenderest bam-
boo shoots. It is very fond of sugar. It grows at
the rate of one inch a month up to its third year
and attains its full growth, but not maturity, at
about twenty-five. The age of an elephant is told
largely by the ears; an old animal has ragged ears
and sunken cheeks. The height of an elephant is
almost exactly twice the distance around its foot.

A herd of elephants is invariably led by the fe-
males, perhaps because they are the more alert to
catch the least sign of danger. If the herd is put
to flight, the males take the lead, breaking through
the jungle and making a trail for the females and
young. An elephant never goes around things; he
either pushes them to one side or goes straight
through. He is very sure-footed and, on anything
that looks doubtful, he will never step without first
putting out a foot and trying it. For that reason,
it requires some skill to build a pit-trap that will
not attract attention. A pit-trap is practically use-
less, however, because the elephant is invariably
injured in the fall; it allows the capture of the baby,
in the case of females, but at the cost of the good,
full-grown animal. Wild elephants, grazing in a

ELEPHANTS 87

herd, travel rapidly if they are frightened, but
usually they saunter along, sleeping during the day
and feeding at night. Their food consists chiefly
of grasses, bamboo shoots, cocoanuts and the bark
of some trees. Lone elephants and outcasts from
the herd are dangerous animals and should be
killed.

There comes a period, known as “must,” when
even the most reliable elephant becomes a danger-
ous animal. Like the Malay he “sees red” and runs
amok. A good elephant keeper can detect the mad-
ness several days before it reaches the dangerous
stage, and by securing the animal with hobbles, can
prevent trouble. In the cheeks of the elephant are
two small holes, called “errors,” and from these
holes oozes a slight secretion. One of the keeper’s
duties each day is to examine the holes and run a
piece of straw into them. If there is an odor of
musk about the straw when he pulls it out, it is an
indication that the “must” period is coming. Some-
times the keeper fails to make this test, and the
elephant runs amok, killing people and leaving a
trail of wreckage behind him.

On one of my visits to Sydney with a consign-
ment of animals for the Zodlogical Gardens, I found
the entire crew of elephant keepers busy with the
task of trying to control an animal that was in
“must.” His keeper had failed to make the test,
and the elephant had suddenly gone mad. Fortu-
nately he was in his stall at the time. When I ar-

88 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

rived, he had wrecked the stall, and the keepers
were afraid that he might get loose. Another stall
had been arranged, but they could figure out no
way of changing him to it. The men were thor-
oughly frightened and absolutely refused to risk
hobbling him. The director of the Gardens offered
me £100 if I would do it, and, since I had Ali and
several of my own men with me, I agreed to try.

With elephant hooks strapped to our wrists, we
entered the stall. The elephant stood looking at us,
apparently wondering which one he should knock
down first. I told Ali to get behind him while I
approached from the front.

I went up to him sideways, speaking to him and
offering him food. He waited quietly until I was
near enough; then, before I could duck, he hit me
with his trunk. I felt myself spinning so rapidly
that the elephant, my men and the stall were all a
blur; and I came up against the wall with a thud.
Fortunately, there was a gutter running along the
wall, and I dropped into it just as the elephant
lunged forward at me. His big head hit the wall
and the floor but couldn’t get at me. He would
not risk his trunk, because he realized that I would
jab him with the hook.

Ali and the other men were at his tail, jabbing
him and pulling. When he turned for them, I
jumped up and began running my hook into his side.
It became a game of jabbing and dodging and wor-
rying him to first one side and then the other. I

SOS
Ves

SA

eS

“I felt myself spinning so rapidly that the elephant, my men and the stall
were all a blur; and I came up against the wall with a thud. Fortunately,
there was a gutter running along the wall, and I dropped into it just as the
elephant lunged forward at me.”

ELEPHANTS 89

took care to thrust my hook always in the same spot,
tearing a raw wound in his side, while the other
men caught him on the legs and on the trunk. We
had to work fast to keep away from the big trunk
as it cut through the air, and his feet, when he
kicked. Each of us was sent sprawling several
times before the fight was over.

At last I could see that the elephant was paying
more attention to the wound I was making than to
anything else we were doing; he favored the hurt
side and tried to shield it. Then, with a bellow, he
knelt down and dropped on his side to cover the
wound.

While I kept him down, Ali arranged the hob-
bles; then we petted him and allowed him to stand.
He got to his feet doubtfully, as if he weren’t sure
that we were not playing a trick on him—urging
him to stand up so that we could jab him again.
The wound I had torn in his side was large enough
for two fists, and it must have pained him terribly.
He was worn out by the fight and he hobbled off
to his new stall, much subdued. Several days later
he came out of the “must” period, which rarely
lasts for more than a week, and became again the
docile elephant that took children on his back for a
ride.

I went to see him several times before I returned
to Singapore, and, when I entered the stall, he edged
away from me, protecting his side. Years later, I
went to Sydney and entered his stall. He didn’t

90 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

recognize me until I put my hand on the scar; then
he muttered deep down in his throat and lay down.
I petted him and fed him sugar, and he seemed to
harbor no resentment against me, but he did re-
member me in connection with a strenuous and un-
pleasant afternoon.

IV
SHIPPING WILD ANIMALS

KLEPHANTS are easily trained and, when they

once get the idea of what is expected of them,
they will do it over and over with little variation.
A trick or a certain kind of work immediately be-
comes a habit with them. In fact, they casa form
habits more rapidly than any other animals I have
ever seen.

In Burma there are large lumber mills, and ele-
phants are used for rolling the logs into position
for the saws. Pushing with their heads, they run
the logs up two inclined skids to the platform. Two
elephants do the pushing and a third elephant acts
as boss. The boss need not be an especially intelli-
gent animal; he is simply taught that the log must
go up the skids in a certain way and that the two
pushers must be kept even. In his trunk he carries
a few links of anchor chain, which he uses as a
whip. If one elephant falls behind, the boss gives
him a rap with the chain. When the log is on the
platform, the pushers turn and plod back for an-
other. The boss elephant is quite unimpressed by
his authority, and the others show no resentment
when he swings the chain on them.

When the whistle blows, the elephants know that

pl

92 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

it is time to stop work and eat. It makes no differ-
ence if they have a log within a fraction of an inch
of the platform; the boss drops his anchor chain
and gets out of the way, and the pushers step to one
side, letting the log crash down again. Then, with-
out the least expression of interest, they turn for
the stalls. Because they obey signals so mechanical-
ly, the engineer steps out, when feeding-time comes,
and looks up and down the runway to see if an
elephant crew has a log on the skids. If so, he waits
until it reaches the platform before he pulls the
whistle-cord.

The great weight and bulk of elephants some-
times make difficult the problem of handling and
especially of shipping them. They are usually
hoisted over the side of the ship in slings, but that
method takes much time and labor, not to speak of
very strong tackle. I did not evolve a new one, how-
ever, until the refusal of the captain of one of the
British India Steam Navigation Company’s boats
to take a consignment of elephants for. me put my
ingenuity to the test.

I was under contract to send fifteen large ele-
phants to Madras, and I had arranged with the com-
pany’s agent at Singapore for three shipments of
five each. The animals were the remainder of the
Trengganu herd and I was anxious to see them
shipped, for. I was still sick with the fever. The
doctors had told me that the best thing I could do
was to leave the country and recuperate, and any,

SHIPPING WILD ANIMALS 93

delay in disposing of the animals meant a great
sacrifice of either money or health.

The first five elephants, together with attendants
and food were waiting back of the sheds at Tan-
jong-Pagar, the docks at Singapore, to be put
aboard. At the last moment the chief officer came
with the message that the captain refused to take
them.

I went to the captain’s cabin and found a stout,
red-faced and apparently good-natured English-
man. He was just out of his bath, wearing pajamas
and idling about in his cabin until the ship was
ready to get under way. I thought it a good time
to approach him, and I took care to be quite calm
and cool about it, although I was raging inside.

I showed him my receipt and the bill of lading
given me by the agent. He replied that the agent
was not captain of the ship; he didn’t care what
agreement the agent had made. So long as he was
captain, he’d run his ship to suit himself, and all
agents could go to the devil, for all he cared. And,
moreover, he’d not carry elephants—not for any one.
I explained my position and told him that it would
mean a great financial loss to me if I failed on my
contract to deliver the elephants.

“Look here, Mayer,” he said, “I’ve handled ele-
phants at Calcutta and I’ve always had a lot of
trouble with them. If I load these elephants, it
means that I have to rig up extra gear, and I won’t
do it.”

94 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

“Captain,” I replied, “I'll load those elephants
without using a foot of rope. I’ll put them anywhere
you say, and you won’t have to rig up a bit of gear.
And I’ll unload them at Madras the same way. Will
you say the word?”

“T don’t think you can do it,” he answered, “but
I’m enough of a sportsman to give you a chance.”

That was all I wanted. I got out before he could
ask me how I was going to work, for I couldn’t have
told him.

The elephants were to go in the bow and they
had to be taken there through a seven-foot passage
from amidships. The smallest of the elephants meas-
ured fully seven feet and the largest more than
eight. I decided that we might as well try the larg-
est first, and I asked that the electric bulbs be re-
moved from the ceiling.

After some coaxing and prodding, we got the
first elephant up the gangplank. The others fol-
lowed obediently. Then I asked the chief officer to
clear the cabins along the passage, for I was afsaid
that some one might open a door and frighten the
elephant. <A frightened, stampeded, eight-foot ele-
phant in a seven-foot passage would give Singapore
enough excitement to last for a year. The chief
officer sent the people from the cabins and locked
the doors.

The elephant balked at sight of the passage. I
was at his head, talking to him and coaxing him,
and two attendants were behind, prodding. We

SHIPPING WILD ANIMALS 95

made him kneel and then urged him forward. At
last we got him into the passage. It was a tight fit.
His sides scraped the walls. I gasped at the thought
of what would happen if he suddenly became afraid.
He would try to stand up, of course, and then
wedged in, he would begin to kick and lunge his
way out; and the other four, who were close be-
hind him, would do the same. “And then, good-
by, steamship,” I said to myself. Slowly we made
our way forward, with the five elephants hobbling
along on their knees. I stayed close to the head of
the first, talking to him and petting him. Finally
we came to the end of the passage, and I drew the
first deep breath in fifteen minutes. I took the ven-
ture simply as a matter of course, and I didn’t say
anything that gave the captain an idea of what my
emotions had been in that passage; but Ali looked
at me and I looked at Ali, and there was no need of
words.

I washed and went to the captain’s cabin for
breakfast, while the men secured the elephants in
their quarters,

The captain said, “Mayer, that was the quickest
and slickest thing I’ve ever seen, but what am I go-
ing to do with those animals at Madras?”

I knew that there were no docks at Madras and
that all freight was unloaded into lighters, but I
answered, “My men will attend to them.”

When the ship reached Madras, the attendants
opened the doors and simply backed the elephants

96 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

overboard. They hit the water with a great splash
and a roar and came up blowing like whales. They
were swimming, of course, for elephants swim bet-
ter than any other land animals I have ever seen.
The attendants approached them in rowboats, and,
jumping on their backs, rode them to shore. By
the time they reached land, they had completely
recovered from the excitement of falling overboard.

The captain returned to Singapore, enthusiastic
over this new way of handling elephants, and I had
the pleasure of shipping my last consignment to
Madras on his ship. He advised me never to take
an agent’s word for. what the captain of a ship will
or will not do, and after that experience, I always
saw the captain first and the agent second.

In collecting and trapping of wild animals one
must not think that all animals so caught are fit
for zodlogical or show purposes. Such is not the
case; often after trailing animals for days and after
having trapped them, I found them old, scarred,
mangey, with broken tails and in numerous ways
unfit, and although I rarely killed, except in self-
preservation, I would kill off all such as were not fit.

All animals I sold and shipped were at the time
of embarkment, healthy, sound and in good con-
dition. As I never carried with my outfit any
preparation for. the curing of skins, I usually al-
lowed the natives to have them, although I often
presented good specimens to the Raffles Museum
at Singapore that were mounted and catalogued

SHIPPING WILD ANIMALS 97

as donations from myself. In one exhibit a group
of eight orang-outangs, from babies to full grown,
and a baby elephant were well mounted and always
came in for the particular notice of visitors.

I was having a busy week at my animal house
in Singapore, getting a lot of animals recaged and
ready for shipment to Melbourne, for Mr. La Souef,
Director of the Melbourne Zoological Society, who
was then on a visit to Singapore with his wife, when
one day a messenger came from the Sultan of
Johore, inviting Mr. and Mrs. La Souef and myself
to call the following day.

As Singapore is an island of fourteen by sixteen
miles, and separated from the main land by the
Straits of Johore, the extreme southern point of
Asia, or the Malay Peninsula, it really meant but
a few hours, sixteen miles by rail to Kranji and by
ferry across the Straits about a mile to Johore.

Back of the jail at Johore were built eight large,
strong iron cages, in which were kept all tigers,
leopards and smaller cat animals that were caught
throughout the state of Johore and were sent to
the Sultan for him to present as gifts or sell as he
saw fit. I eventually had first call on all animals
so caught.

On the following day, arriving at Johore, we were
met my Dato Muntre, the prime minister, and in-
troduced to Sultan Ibriam, who was at that time a
young man and with whom I was very well acquaint-
ed. After showing Mr. and Mrs. La Souef through

98 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

his palace and grounds, we came to the cages back
of the jail, which contained three tigers, two black
and one spotted leopard. The Sultan, pointing to
one cage which contained a beautiful specimen of
tiger, young, beautifully striped, and a bright
golden yellow, said he wished to present that tiger
to the Melbourne Society as a gift, and, turning
to me said, “Taian Mayer, you can get him when-
ever you wish,” he knowing I was Mr. La Souef’s
agent.

Mr. La Souef was delighted and thanked the
Sultan in his and the Society’s name, promising
to put his gift in a prominent place in the Melbourne
Garden.

On our return to Singapore, I had quite an argu-
ment with Mr. La Souef regarding the flimsy, un-
suitable cages he was having made to suit himself,
and every time I ventured to point out the inad-
visability of certain cages being built under his
directions, he would invariably say, “Mr. Mayer,
you may be right. I also am right, and I have
handled animals longer than you.” As the ani-
mals were his and he insisted on having his way,
I simply carried out his instructions. His idea
was to build large, roomy cages from the cheapest
of wood (siraih), having a space between the floor
and the cross section holding the iron bars, to clean
out the cages and to hand in food.

I never would think of shipping an animal in
such a cage. First it is too large and roomy, giv-

SHIPPING WILD ANIMALS 99

ing the animal too much play to break the cage,
and as it was weakened by having a space between
the floor and the cross piece, unless made of heavy
and strong wood. I always caged for shipping
animals in small narrow cages or boxes; heavy
wood; sides of wood, but bars at each end and na
space. When wood or water was to be given them,
the food was cut up small enough to be poured
between the bars, and a drinking pan nailed to the
floor of the cage. When cleaning out the cage on
board the steamer, both front and rear covers were
taken off and the cage flushed with water, at the
same time giving the animal a bath. The bath in
some instances, and according to the animal, would
be dispensed with, but never with cat animals.

{ returned to Johore the following day with a
transporting cage, and with Ali and the assistance
of a few of the prisoners from the jail, soon had
the tiger safely boxed and on his way in a bullock
cart to my animal house in Orchard Road, there
to be recaged in the cage Mr La Souef was
having built under his directions, by my Chinese
carpenter who built all my cages. Taking me aside
he said: “Ttian, etn, Orang bon-yer, gee-har sat-tu
Jam remow pe-char” (Sir, that man is very fool-
ish, the tiger will break his cage in an hour). I
said, “Never mind, make the cage as he wants it,
that is his look out.”

Well, the cage was made, the tiger moved into
it, and a few days later we loaded his shipment on

100 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

board the steamer, ours being the last thing to
be put on board. As the steamer was to sail
at midnight, we had no trouble in placing the
cages on deck, and, as space was limited, I sug-
gested to Mr. La Souef to let me arrange the plac-
ing of cages and animals. But no, he would see
to that, and told the captain that he would like to
have them placed as he wished. They were on the
forward deck, in a circle about the hatch, with the
smaller animals and deer facing the cages on deck,
on the hatch itself. Can you imagine placing deer
in crates facing tigers in none too strong boxes?

T bade Mr. La Souef and his wife bon voyage,
and wished him success in landing his shipment.
Mr. La Souef was a personal friend of the owner
of the steamship company, the McAllister line, who
was a patron and also a director of the Melbourne
Zodlogical Society. As Mr. La Souef had taken
the trip with his wife as guests of the owner, Cap-
tain Edwards of the vessel used diplomacy, said
nothing, and allowed Mr. La Souef to have his
way; but before going ashore, I said to Captain
Edwards, “watch out, there is going to be trouble
before you get to Melbourne.” “Never fear,” he
replied, “Mayer, I'll kill or dump the whole lot
over the side if anything starts, friend of the boss
or not! I have my other passengers to look to.”
I said good-bye to him hoping to see him on his
return trip, when I would hear the news, if any.

The shipment consisted of the following, not

SHIPPING WILD ANIMALS I0I

counting the tiger, the gift of the Sultan of Johore:
Two small orang-outangs, twenty monkeys, one sun
bear, one honey bear, two civet cats, one bintu-
rong, four crown gora pheasants, one black leopard,
one clouded leopard, spotted and looking like an
ocelot, one female tiger, two samber deer, two
mouse deer, in all fourteen cages and three crates.

At five o’clock the following morning, I was
awakened by a hammering at the gate and the call-
ing of “Tuan! Tian!’ Looking out, I saw a native
boatman. “What do you want?” I called.

“Tian, etu re-mow, pe-char sanken, mon _ lor-
rie” (Sir, the tiger has broken his cage and wants
to run away).

“What tiger? Where,” I asked.

He said, the tiger from the steamer.

— “Well, what do you want metodo? The steamer
left last night. I am through with it.”

“Te-dar Tian” (No, Sir), he said, handing me
a letter, “the tiger is in my lighter and is tied to
one of the buoys in the harbor.” He begged me to
get the tiger, as no one was near or on the lighter.

‘The letter, which was from Mr. La Souef, writ-
ten before the steamer sailed, stated that the tiger
presented by the Sultan of Johore had broken his
cage and was in danger of getting clear away, as
the captain had had a sling put about the broken
cage after the ship’s carpenter had nailed a few
boards to cover the hole the tiger had made and
partly strengthened it, hung the cage over the side

102 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

of the ship, telling Mr. La Souef that if he did not
get some kind of a boat or lighter to put the cage
in, he would drop tiger, cage and all into the water,
and as this happened at about half-past eleven at
night, things did not look very bright for Mr. La
Souef. He begged and prayed the captain to let
the carpenter or himself get nails and boards, but
the captain was firm. They finally got the head
stevedore of the dock to let him put the cage in
a lighter, which they did, and then towed the lighter
out in the harbor, everyone leaving it as soon as
it was tied to a buoy, and Mr. La Souef then told
them to notify me, which they did. There I was,
with instructions to get the tiger, recage it and
ship by next steamer, eighteen days later.

I asked the boatman where the lighter was. Tak-
ing Ali and four natives with ropes, boards, nails,
etc., we went down to the docks, and there out in
the harbor tied to buoy was the lighter with a fleet
of small boats surrounding it at a good distance. I
called a sampan and told the owner of the lighter
to follow. As we neared the lighter, we could hear
the growling and the tearing of wood, and getting
alongside and cautiously climbing up, I looked in.

There was the cage with the tiger’s head through
a hole that it was trying to make larger. Fortu-
nately the cage had been strengthened by the ship’s
carpenter, otherwise he would have broken out and
escaped before I could have been notified. By that
time the docks were lined with people. The story

SHIPPING WILD ANIMALS 103

had spread that there was a lighter in the harbor,
filled with wild animals that had broken out of their
cages and were fighting and killing one another
and those that could escape would jump into the
harbor and make for the shore. Then some one
called Police Headquarters and four European
officers came down to the dock with repeaters.

Ali and I dropped into the lighter, calling to the
natives to pass the boards, nails and hammers, and
assuming that there was no danger, we took each
an end of a board and carrying it to the top of the
cage passed it over until it covered the hole the
tiger had his head out of. As Ali and I held the
board my men nailed it and then another, so soon
we had him fairly well secured; that is, he was in
the cage again, snarling, biting and scratching.
Calling to the owner of the lighter to come aboard
with his men and row his lighter to the docks, we
went to work and nailed board after board against
and over all weak spots. There was no need to tell
the boatmen to hurry; they never rowed faster.
Arriving at the docks, and after telling the inspec-
tor just what had happened, we got the cage on
a bullock cart and soon had the tiger safe at my
animal house. Three weeks later I shipped him
aboard in a good strong cage, in charge of the cap-
tain, but as the steamer was steaming up the Yarra
river. into Melbourne, the tiger died. An autopsy
showed he died of a fractured skull, and later I got
the full particulars.

104 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

It seemed that when the tiger first attempted to
break out of his cage on board the steamer and the
carpenter was ordered to get some boards and cover
the hole he had been tearing, as the head showed
against the opening the carpenter struck it with his
hammer. The deer and smaller animals became
terrified, and in their endeavor to escape, the deer’s
legs got through the slats in the crates; they broke
their legs and had to be killed. This I was told
later by Captain Edwards, who said it all happened
within a few minutes, Mr. La Souef running about
like a madman, begging this and that, getting in
the way of’everybody, but no one paying any atten-
tion to him, and what with the excitement among
the passengers, the roaring of the tigers, barking
of the bears, chatter of monkeys and crying of the
smaller cats, and the frantic efforts of the deer to
break through the crates, he was only adding to the
confusion and disorder, until Captain Edwards
ordered the water hose brought into play to quiet
the animals. He told the carpenter to get some
boards and nail up the opening the tiger had made,
then having a sling put about the cage with the tiger
snarling and biting and tearing at the opening it
had started, but now covered by the planks, swung
it over the side of the ship and there it hung. The
captain then had. the cages taken off the hatch and
placed against the side of the steamer, telling Mr.
La Souef that if he did not keep quiet he would have

SHIPPING WILD ANIMALS 105,

the whole shipment put over the side and dumped
into the harbor.

That was the story Captain Edwards told me on
his return trip to Singapore, and he laughed heart-
ily over the way he said Mr. La Souef was hopping
about in his pajamas.

My bill against the Society for services, paying
for the lighter. the tiger was put into from the
steamer, labor, recaging, feeding for twenty-one
days, and enough food for eighteen to twenty-one
days’ voyage to Melbourne seemed to Mr. La Souef
an overcharge and my bill of £50 all out of propor-
tion; as the tiger was a gift from the Sultan of Jo-
hore and not purchased. I insisted and drew on him
for that amount, at the same time resigning as agent
for his society, telling him that although he was an
older man, he had still to learn the art of caging,
recaging and shipping animals, not receiving them,
and that had he not insisted on having things done
his own way with cheap material, and had left it to
me, what happened could not have happened, as
barely one-third of his shipment landed alive.

By the time I had disposed of the last of my ele-
phants, I was so sick with the fever that I could not
leave my bed. I was dangerously ill and I began
to realize that I should be lucky if I escaped with
my life.

Mr. Lambert, who had been my friend ever since
T landed at Singapore to enter the animal business,

engaged passage for me on a steamer bound for

106 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

Europe and took charge of the affairs of my animal
house in Orchard Road. When it was time to go
to the steamer, my Chinese coolie boy carried me.
He is the only Chinese I have ever seen cry; the
tears rolled down his cheeks as he carried me up the
gangplank and to my cabin, for he thought that he
should never see me again. I rather thought so
myself, but I figured that if they didn’t drop me
into the Red Sea, which is the last resting-place of
so many people who have stayed too long in the
tropics, I should recover and live to return.

Ali and the coolie waited faithfully for me during
the next year, while I traveled in Europe and
‘America, recuperating and gathering new commis-
sions for animals. And, when I came back, they,
were on the dock to welcome me:

Though my health was much improved by the
woyage I did not feel able to resume the active busi-
ness of collecting, and so I concentrated my efforts
upon my animal house and made it the largest place
of its kind. I had a monopoly of the business,
Mahommed Ariff, who had a large number of
native collectors working for him, did much of his
dealing through me, and I had no difficulty in dis-
posing of all the animals brought in from the jun-
gles by our various agents. My largest market was
Australia, where I could sell the animals f. o. b,
Singapore without any of the risk of transportation.
Also, I made shipments to Hagenbeck, of Germany,
and Cross, of Liverpool. Because of the high

SHIPPING WILD ANIMALS 107

import duty, I sent comparatively few of my ani-
mals to the United States.

John Anderson, who was European adviser to
the King of Siam and who had been created a Siam-
ese nobleman, sent for me and offered me a commis-
sion that kept me busy for the next five years. The
King of Siam was in the habit of making presents
of wild animals to foreign rulers, and it became my
work to select the animals and supervise all details
of shipment. I was sent to interview the Minister
of the Interior, H. H. Prince Damerong, who gave
me a permit to travel wherever I pleased in Siam
and to force labor. In Siam, I directed many hunts,
especially for tuskers to be used in the teak forests.
The driving was done entirely during the daytime,
and on elephants, instead of on foot, as in Treng-
ganu. The fever had left me in bad condition, and
so I did not take an active part in the work.

On my trips between Bangkok and Singapore, T
stopped off many times at Trengganu to renew my
acquaintance with the Sultan and to talk with the
native hunters, who were sending a steady stream
of animals to me at Singapore. I was known to the
natives throughout the Peninsula as Tian Gajah—
Sir Elephant—and I was amused to find that the
story of the big elephant hunt had grown to incred-
ible proportions. The herd of sixty elephants be-
came larger each time the story was told.

After one exciting incident in the work of ship-
ping animals for the King of Siam, If was allowed

108 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

full authority. We were sending a pair of beauti-
fully matched leopards to the Emperor of Austria,
and they had reached Singapore in two large,
poorly constructed cages. Mr. Anderson was there,
and we disagreed on the advisability of recaging
them. I thought that the cages looked weak and I
wished to have my Chinese carpenter build two that
would be smaller and stronger. Mr. Anderson,
however, was impatient to start the leopards on
their voyage, and, since he was boss, we loaded the
cages on bullock-carts and headed for the docks. In
unloading one of the bullock-carts, the natives
allowed the case to slide to the ground too heavily;
the cage broke, and out went Mr. Leopard like a
flash of lightning, heading straight for the Chinese ©
quarter. The Chinese saw him coming, and a panic
started. They tumbled over one another in getting
out of the way, and two of them were scratched.
The leopard was quite as frightened as any of the
Chinese. The natives in charge of the bullock-cart
came running for me, and I went to the Chinese
quarter to find the leopard, He had taken refuge
in a house, and I finally discovered him hiding
under the stairs, his eyes shining in the darkness.
Since it was impossible to get rid of the mob of
Chinese and recaging under the circumstances
would have been too dangerous, we had to shoot
the animal. We took the other leopard back to
Orchard Road and built a new cage.

In 1902, just before the rainy season, I was rest-

SHIPPING WILD ANIMALS 109

ing in Singapore after six months of hard work.
Just as I had almost decided to go to Europe, I hap-
pened to see in an old copy of the New York Clipper
. anadvertisement of a steam merry-go-round. That
gave me an idea; there had never been a merry-go-
round in the Malay Peninsula, and I was confident
enough of my judgment of Malay nature to gamble
that it would be a success. Mr. Lambert didn’t
agree with me. “Forget about it,” he advised.
“Take the steamer. and have a good vacation.” But
I went to the Hongkong and Shanghai Bank and
cabled $2,000 in gold to the factory at North Tona-
wanda, New York, with instructions to ship me the
merry-go-round on the first boat, via London. It
arrived nine weeks later, and it cost me £110 in
freight. The rain was beating down steadily in
Singapore, and so I transshipped it to Penang.

‘A few days later, I was in Penang, driving
around in a rickshaw, looking for a good location,
while the merry-go-round, still in crates, was com-
ing ashore in sampans. Opposite the Hotel de la
Paix I found a good open space, and I routed out of
bed the Chinese merchant who owned it. I told him
that I should like to rent the lot for a show and that,
if he would come to terms with me, I would let him
and his family ride free of charge. Now a Chinese
likes a show better than anything else on earth, and
so we were not long in closing a bargain. I was
to pay him a rental of $1 Mexican a day and te
have an option of two months on the lot. I had no

110 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

paper on which to write out the agreement, and so,
since I didn’t want him to change his mind, I paid
him $30 for one month, writing the receipt in my
pith helmet. He signed in my hat; then we pasted
a stamp in it and canceled the stamp by writing the
date across it.

While Ali and my coolie boy were getting the
merry-go-round unloaded, I collected a gang of
laborers and an engineer. All that day we worked
at uncrating the merry-go-round and putting it
together. The natives stood around, watching us
and speculating as to what this strange new thing
could possibly be. The merry-go-round ran on
wheels on a track and the horses were connected
with eccentrics, which worked them up and down;
a good loud organ was connected by a belt with one
of the wheels. The merry-go-round carried fifty-
six people.

I began business on the Chinese New Year’s Day.
The merry-go-round was the sensation of Penang.
The crowds flocked to see it, and the natives lined
up for several hundred yards, each with his dime in
his hand, waiting for his turn. We were so busy
that I could not even go to the hotel for a meal;
the brassy organ of the merry-go-round shrieked
from early in the morning until late at night. In
two days, I took in $1,500 Mexican.

On the third day the merchant from whom I had
rented the lot announced that he was going to build
a fence around it and charge two cents for the priv-

SHIPPING WILD ANIMALS III

ilege of standing and watching the merry-go-round.
I told him that I wouldn’t allow it; that all of Pen-
ang could come and see my show free. I was too
busy taking in dimes to think about fences. He
went away angry and disappointed. Four days later
a lawyer representing him came to see me. He said
that the rent had been raised to $10 a day, and that
a dispossess order would be executed unless I paid
it. I told the lawyer to wait and I went back to
the hotel, to get my pith helmet.

The merchant had forgotten about the receipt.
When the lawyer. saw it, he told me that the mer-
chant was unpopular with all the Malays and Chi-
nese in Penang because he cheated them, and that
they would be delighted if I sued for breach of
contract. The result was that, for $1 a day, I got
the use of the lot as long as I wanted it.

Within six weeks I had made up the entire cost
of the merry-go-round and I was on velvet. The
dimes were still rolling in as fast as I could collect
them. Finally, when the novelty of my show had
worn off and business began to slacken, I shipped to
Rangoon, Burma, to collect dimes there. After the
merry-go-round had been running two weeks, I was
approached by a man who wished to buy me out.
I had had all the fun I wanted, and so I sold it to
him for 10,000 rupees—$4,500 in gold. He was a
government official and consequently did not wish
to appear in the transaction. The bill of sale was
made out in his wife’s name, and a man was hired

112 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

to run the merry-go-round for him. I stayed for a
week to get the enterprise started; then I went up
to the lumber mills to see if the lumbermen needed
elephants. When I returned to Singapore, I had a
commission for six large elephants.

It was a better vacation than I could have had in
Europe. I had made many friends and attended to
some animal business and I had £700 clear profit in
my pockets.

At my animal house I found a letter from Mr.
La Soeuf, the director of the Perth Zodlogical Gar-
dens, saying that he was anxious to get a rhinoceros
and asking what I could do for him. I did not want
to go into the jungle again immediately, for I was
afraid of a return of the fever, but I replied that I
would see what could be done and I sent out word
to all my native agents. Both Mr. La Souef and his
father, who was director of the gardens at Mel-
bourne, were great friends of mine, and their gar-
dens had been my best market for animals. Quite
naturally, I wanted to do everything I could to help
them, and so, when word came from an agent in
Trengganu that some rhinoceroses had been located
there, I packed up my kit and started out.

At Trengganu, the Sultan welcomed me, and I
spent several days with him, telling him what was
happening in the world and discussing his problems.
The problems were largely financial. He owed
some money, and, knowing that he had something

SHIPPING WILD ANIMALS 113

in the treasury, I asked why he did not pay his
debts.

He thought for a time and then replied: “Well,
T’ll tell you. If I pay those people, they will forget
about the Sultan of Trengganu. If I don’t pay them,
they’ll never forget me.”

The conversation turned to the subject of pris-
oners. On my way to the palace I had passed the
cages where the prisoners were kept. Many of
them were starving to death, for, unless their
friends or family cared for them, they got no food.

“Why don’t you feed them?” I asked.

“Why should I?” he replied. “If I feed them,
my whole country will want to go to jail.”

Finally, after he had satisfied his craving for
sociability, he gave me my official permit to go into
the interior and to force labor. I started out for
the upper end of his state, bordering on Lower
Siam. At the mouth of the River Sti, I found
my agent; we gathered a crew of ten men and went
up the river as far as we could. When the weeds
became so thick that we could not force the boats
through, we took to the jungle and began cutting
our way to the mud-puddle where the rhinoceroses
came to wallow.

We took great precautions in approaching the
puddle, for once a rhinoceros gets the scent of a
hunter, he is off through the jungle as fast as he
can go. The hunter, who spots his animal and
shoots, has an easy time of it; but the collector, who

114 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

must capture, has a more difficult job. He must
work and build his trap at the very spot frequented
by the animal and he must do so without exciting
suspicion. A rhinoceros seldom charges when he
sees a man, and his charge is not dangerous, for he
is short-sighted and cannot gauge his direction
accurately. Most often he runs, and it is almost
impossible, even when the collector can find him
again, to chase or lure him back to the trap.

No animals were at the puddle when we arrived,
and I had a good opportunity to examine the loca-
tion. Then we withdrew and I told the men how
we should go about making the capture. We made
camp, building platforms between the trees for liv-
ing-quarters, and I detailed some of the men to the
work on a rattan net, which measured twenty by
fifteen feet, with meshes ten inches square. I felt
that we had a good chance of getting a rhinoceros
in a net-trap and should save ourselves much time
and labor if we could do so. When the net was
ready, we put it in position at a likely-looking -
approach—half on the ground, where the animal
would step into it, and half suspended, so that he
would catch it with his head and bring it down
about him.

Then we turned our attention to making pits. As
I have explained before, a heavy animal was sure
to injure himself in falling into a square pit such
as the natives generally dug, and, of course, an
injured animal would have been of no use to me.

SHIPPING WILD ANIMALS 115

Hence the four pits that we dug around the puddle
were made wedge-shaped, instead of square. They
were six feet wide at the top and tapered to three
feet at the bottom; they were eight feet deep and
ten feet long, with the approach tapering down so
there would be the least possible chance that the
beast would injure himself when he fell.

Over the tops of the pits we built platforms of
bamboo poles, and covered them with mud and
leaves, taking care to leave no traces of our work.
To the building of each pit we gave a whole day
of hard labor and we were constantly on the alert
for fear one of the rhinoceroses might surprise us.
Lookouts were already stationed to catch the sounds
of the beasts as they broke through the jungle, com-
ing to their bath.

One morning a native came running with the
news that a rhinoceros was trapped. We gathered
our tools and hurried off to the puddle. There,
grunting and fighting, lay a two-ton rhinoceros,
firmly wedged in and helpless. When he saw us, he
became furious, squirming in the slime of the pit,
pounding with his feet and grunting.

I divided my crew, putting half at building a
cage of heavy timbers and the others at digging
away the ground in front of the beast. By the time
the cage was put together and bound securely with
rattan, we had an incline running down to the pit,
with two feet of earth walling the rhinoceros in.
Then we placed skids on the incline and let the cage

116 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

slide down. A native, who had been sent back to
the nearest kampong, or native village, to recruit
men and water-buffaloes, had soon returned with a
score of other natives, driving six water-buffaloes
before them. Then I went through the usual busi-
ness of holding a meeting and explaining carefully,
in the greatest detail, exactly what we were about
to do and how we were to do it; what each man was
to do and when and how. When they understood
perfectly, we set about digging away the wall that
separated the rhinoceros from the open end of the
cage. With a little more than one foot of earth
remaining, we began to prod him. The immense
beast pounded his feet on the bottom of the pit,
grunting and moving forward as rapidly as he
could get foothold. He put his head against the
wall and rooted; the wall toppled over and he
lurched out of the pit and into the cage. The na-
tives slipped the end-bar into place.

The capture was finished—but not the work. A
rhinoceros cannot be broken and driven through
the jungle like an elephant; he must be hauled every
foot of the way. With the six water-buffaloes
straining and every native giving a hand, we pulled
the cage up the incline and mounted it on the run-
ners. It took a week of steady cutting to clear the
way, so that we could drag the cage to the Treng-
ganu River. There we built a heavy raft and
floated the cage down to port. Another two weeks

MANS Oy
iy J) PURER SR 2S ne

Ni

LAN
CAL

wre

“We began to prod the rhinoceros. .

. He put his head

against the wall and rooted; the wall toppled over and he lurched

out of the pit and into the cage.”

SHIPPING WILD ANIMALS 117

passed before we could ship the beast to Singapore,
for transshipment to Perth.

I received for the animal £200, which was about
one quarter of its value. But it was as much as the
Perth Zodlogical Gardens could afford to pay, and
I was glad to be able to put so fine a specimen into
the hands of Mr. La Souef.

One day when I was busy in my animal house,
Ali came to me with the message that three natives
from Pontianak, Borneo, were outside. They had
something important to tell me, Ali said. When
they came in, I found that I knew one of them; he
was an animal trader from whom I had bought
some birds and monkeys. The other. two were head-
men from the interior of Borneo.

The headmen had gone to the trader with the
story of two large orang-outangs that were terror-
izing their villages, and the trader was bringing
them to me for advice. We sat down in the shade
and discussed the situation. The orang-outangs
had run off with a young girl and had recently
killed one of the men. The natives had tried
repeatedly to kill them, but without success, and
now they were afraid to venture into the jungle.

For several years I had had a standing order
from the Antwerp Zodlogical Gardens for a good
specimen of orang-outang, and I had planned to go,
just as soon as my health permitted, into Borneo,
to see what I could find. Orang-outangs command
unlimited prices because they are so hard to cap-

118 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

ture and, once captured, so difficult to deliver. On
account of homesickness and sensitiveness to cli-
matic changes, they die quickly in captivity. A
caged orang-outang loses his spirit immediately; he
sits brooding over his capture and often refuses
all food. On one occasion I shipped eighteen small
and medium-sized orang-outangs to San Francisco,
hoping to land two or three alive, but they all died
before reaching port. If I had been able to deliver
a good specimen in the United States, I could have
sold it for $5,000.

But here were two full-grown beasts, already
located, and waiting for me to try my hand at cap-
turing them. I was greatly interested in the story
the two headmen had to tell, and I spent the entire
afternoon in listening to them and asking them all
manner of questions. They described the country
where the orang-outangs made their home, and
promised as many men as I needed.

I impressed them with the fact that I was not
anxious to make the trip, and I made them promise,
as a first consideration, that they would use all
their power to prevent the natives from killing the
animals if I captured them. I feared that the resent-
ment of the natives against the orang-outangs
might lead them to kill the animals for revenge,
even after I had them safely caged. They agreed
to do as I requested and once again begged me to
return with them. I told them to come back the
next day and talk with me again. I had already

SHIPPING WILD ANIMALS 119

made up my mind, but it is always well to let a
native think that one has not quite decided.

When I went to see the Dutch Consul-General
and explained the situation, he issued passports for
me, and, accompanied by the two headmen, the
trader, Ali and my coolie boy, I took the next
steamer to Pontianak. At Pontianak, I presented
my credentials to the Dutch Resident. He was
pleased to hear that I was going after the orang-
outangs and he offered to let me have as many
native officials as I wished to take along. I thanked
him and declined his offer, explaining that I really
did not know as yet just what I should need, or how
long I should be up-country. As a matter of fact,
I did not want his native officials because I knew
that the jungle people have no love for them, and
I wanted to have my expedition entirely clear of
everything that looked official.

We stayed there for several days, getting sup-
plies together. The trader remained with the party
at my request, because he was known by both the
coast and the jungle people. From a Chinese he
rented a houseboat that I could keep as long as I
had need of it. The Borneo houseboats are twenty
to twenty-five feet long and five feet wide; they
have a bamboo shed, which makes a fairly comfort-
able room, and are rowed or paddled by six men.
With a mattress spread on the floor and mosquito-
netting hung about, I could take the trip up the
river easily. Omar, one of the headmen, stayed

120 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

with me in my boat, while Mahommed Munshee,
the other headman, went ahead with some of the
stores.

On the way up the river we came to the station
of Dr. Van Erman, the Dutch medical officer who
was in charge of the outlying districts. He insisted
that I stay with him for two days at least, and I was
glad to do so, for he was the last white man I should
see before we tackled the orang-outangs. I was
anxious to have the benefit of his knowledge of the
natives and the country, and also I found it reassur-
ing, under the circumstances, to have the friendship
of a medical man. Later, I became his enforced
guest and I have always been thankful for his care.

We arrived at Nanaoh-Pinoh, which was Ma-
hommed Munshee’s village, two days late. I stayed
at Munshee’s house while the men prepared boats
for the trip up the Melarir River to the spot where
the orang-outangs were.

Vv

THE SEA TRAGEDY OF THE JUNGLE
FOLK

| (T seemed to me, as I waited in Mahommed Mun-

shee’s village, that it might be a good plan to
establish a reputation among the natives as a work-
er of wonders. Fame as a magician is easily
acquired among these people and is of inestimable
value in handling them. For the task that lay
before us, I needed all their courage and confidence,
and I had a feeling that they were accepting me
with some doubt. That would never do, for, unless
I had them under perfect control when the hunt
reached its most exciting point, all our efforts might
be wasted. They showed proper awe of the express
rifle that Ali exhibited so proudly, and they took
fitting note of my ‘stores, but still they regarded
me simply as a white man who might, or might
not, be able to do the things he said he was going
to do. They were respectful and hospitable, but
the more I saw of them, the more I realized the
importance of doing some spectacular thing that
would distinguish me in their minds and send tales
of my magic traveling through the wilderness of
jungle. It is astounding, by the way, how rapidly

: 12k

122 TRAPPING WILD ‘ANIMALS

news travels in the jungle. Many times, in break-
ing through virgin country, I have found that the
news of my coming had preceded me and that the
natives knew all about me and were waiting for
me. The only explanation I could ever get was
simply, “Tuan, we heard.”

A good opportunity to impress the natives pre-
sented itself one day when I was preparing to take
a plunge in the river. Munshee stopped me, say-
ing: “Take care, sir. There are crocodiles in the
river.” He told me that many natives had lost
their lives recently and that men had had their
arms snapped off while they were paddling boats.

I took his advice and went to the house where my
supplies were stored. Presently I returned with
a stick of dynamite and a fuse. Gathering the
natives around me, I explained to them that they
were to line the banks of the river and prepare to
come out in their boats when I gave the signal.
They were entirely mystified, for they had never
heard of dynamite.

Going up-stream, I prepared the charge and then
drifted down, dropping it over. Wide-eyed and
puzzled, they watched the smoking fuse disappear
into the water. Then came a muffled explosion,
which made them jump; the water trembled, shak-
ing the boats and frightening them; fish came to
the surface. I signaled and the scramble to gather
the fish began.

Ali was standing near me, ready to put the rifle

SEA TRAGEDYi OF THE JUNGLE FOLK 123

into my hands, and I strained my eyes, looking for
crocodiles. Suddenly a woman pointed to the op- °
posite bank and screamed, “Budia (crocodile) !”

I yelled to Munshee to take his men down-stream
and keep them quiet and on the alert; then I directed
my boat above the spot where the woman had
pointed. I dropped another stick of dynamite over-
board. A few seconds later, the belly of a crocodile
appeared on the surface, its feet and tail moved
feebly. It was stunned by the explosion—mdabok
(drunk), as the natives say

I took my gun and put two bullets into its belly.
Before it could sink, Ali grabbed its tail; then we
made for the shore. The natives gathered about,
wildly excited, and Mahommed Munshee was the
proudest man in the village. He had vouched for
my abilities and I had proved my possession of
the powers that he claimed for me. It was hobat-an
(magic).

The crocodile measured fifteen feet, four inches,
and was twenty-five years old. The natives could
tell its age by counting the pebbles in its pouch.

I decided to stop at Munshee’s a few days longer,
to have the men gather rattan to make the nets,
and also to talk with the natives about orang-
outangs and plan all the details of the capture.
Omar, the other headman, went on up to his vil-
lage, taking with him as much of our store of
provisions as he could carry. I was willing enough

to have him spread the crocodile story among the

124 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

natives and I knew that the tale would not suffer
in the telling.

Omar was to determine, if possible, the exact
location of the orang-outangs and to make arrange-
ments, such as engaging recruits for the hunt, in
advance of my arrival. I planned to have a gen-
eral council of all the men who were to take part
in the work. Such a council would have a double
advantage: in the first place, it would give me the
benefit of their experience, and secondly, it would
make them feel that I depended upon them.

It took us four days to gather as much rattan
as we could carry in our. boats; then, with thirty
men, we started up the river. J found at each vil-
lage that Omar had done more than justice to the
crocodile story and that he had taken with him a
select crew of men. As in Trengganu, the natives
felt that this was to be the great sporting event
of the year, and they were anxious to take part.
Their keen interest in the adventure made it pos-
sible for us to choose the strongest and best of
them, together with a few older men, who knew
the jungle.

Our boatmen swung on their paddles steadily,
pushing the boats against the current. Solid banks
of foliage lined the sides of the stream, and, in
places, the branches touched overhead, making a
thick canopy that shaded us. In the sun, the heat
was blistering.

‘When we arrived at Omar’s kampong, the entire

SEA TRAGEDY OF THE JUNGLE FOLK 125

population was on the banks to welcome us. Omar
came forward and announced that he had recruited
seventy men—Malays and Dyaks—for the hunt
and that he would vouch for all of them. That
made a crew of a hundred, counting the thirty who
came with me, and we examined one another curi-
ously. I was the first white man that most of them
had seen.

Leaving instructions that the council was to be
called for the next morning, I went to the house
that Omar had prepared for me. AKi and the
Chinese boy accompanied me with my personal
equipment, and I sat talking with Omar while I
waited for my bed to be prepared, so that I could
get my afternoon nap. The men loitered outside
the house apparently waiting for something. I
knew what they wanted—more magic. At last a
deputation came with the request. Would the
white man perform magic such as he had per-
formed at the village of Mahommed Munshee?

Crocodiles were less plentiful so far up the river,
and I was rather afraid that they might be dis-
appointed if I did not at least equal the former
exhibition. The story, as I have remarked before,
had grown wonderfully in traveling up-country.
But they were determined to see the “drunken
fish,” and I decided that, before beginning work,
I should do well to give them some sort of
amusement.

With the two headmen—they were delighted to

126 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

show such familiarity with this new sport—assist-
ing me, I stationed the natives on the banks with
their boats and then I went up-stream with the
dynamite. There was breathless silence as they
saw me strike a match and touch it to the fuse.
When the explosion came, they gave a shout and
darted out in their boats to gather in the fish. After
the excitement had subsided, and all the fish had
been compared for size and weight, I dropped an-
other stick. The men enjoyed the sport immensely,
and we made a hilarious afternoon of it. The most
sober person in the village was my coolie boy, who,
as he went quietly about his business of arranging
my living quarters, muttered, “Sémia gila (All
crazy).”

Ali, who had become a good shot, showed the
villagers my express rifle, and demonstrated what
an explosive bullet could do to the trunks of trees.
The men were fascinated by that power of destruc-
tion, and they passed their fingers reverently
over the barrel and listened to Ali’s stories while
he cleaned it. Ali had traveled all over the Far
East with me and he gave marvelous interpreta-
tions of what he had seen. He could hold an au-
dience of natives spellbound for hours and, inci-
dentally, he was an excellent publicity man for me.
In his whole-hearted, childish, Malay fashion, he
accepted me as the greatest man in the world and
he was never contented unless others did so too.
He was in great measure responsible for the success

SEA TRAGEDY: OF THE JUNGLE FOLK 127

of my expeditions, for he removed many an obstacle
—sometimes without my knowledge—and worked
constantly to keep up the enthusiasm of the men.

I wanted the council to be a formal affair, and so
I had Omar sound the call by striking on a hollow
log. The older men took their places first, squat-
ting in a semi-circle; then the younger men squatted
behind them. The women and children loitered on
the outskirts at a respectful distance. All of them
were chewing betel-nut.

From the house, I watched the council assemble,
but I did not go out until Omar came for me. Then,
with Omar and Munshee walking beside me, I left
the house, dressed in native costume—Chinese trou-
sers, sarong and jacket. The chattering ceased as
I approached, and all eyes were centered on me.
Every one was visibly impressed by the fact that I
was wearing the clothes of a native, and that they
were of the finest quality, and entitled me to much
consideration.

The importance of staging such an expedition—
all the “magic,” the talk, the council and the cos-
tume—was not to be underrated. As I have ex-
plained before, the natives are extremely impres-
sionable; if they like a man and believe in him, they
will do anything he asks, and if they do not believe
in him, they will run wild at the moment when he
needs them most. The orang-outang hunt was the
most important and difficult thing of its kind I had
ever attempted; it required the greatest technical

128 TRAPPING WILD ‘ANIMALS

proficiency, because there were numerous chances
of failure through little miscalculations. Elephant
driving is, after all, largely a matter of simple
strategy combined with endurance; and capturing
leopards is about on a par with setting mouse-traps
when compared with getting full-grown orang-
outangs into cages.

I squatted before the council and talked long and
earnestly about the work that lay before us. I told
the villagers that I had left important business in
Singapore at the request of their headmen, to come
and help them; that I had hesitated about making
the trip and had been persuaded only by the prom-
ises of Omar and Mahommed Munshee that every
assistance would be given me. I explained that I
had the permission of the Resident-General and that
he had offered me men, but that I had refused, be-
cause I knew I could depend on the men of this
kampong—they knew everything that was to be
known about the jungle, and the whole world knew
that they were brave and cool-headed. I impressed
- upon them that such work was not to be taken as
play, and that it was a dangerous enterprise. The
natives nodded sagely. “You must be guided by
what I say and do,” I told them, “for I have made
plans. If you do as I tell you to do, we shall be
successful.”

Then I called upon the men who had been sent
out to locate the orang-outangs. They had found
them about two hours’ distance from the village;

SEA TRAGEDY OF THE JUNGLE FOLK 129

they described the location and told how it could be
reached. A general discussion followed. I gave
each man a chance to express his ideas. They all
wanted to talk—preferably all at the same time—
and the council dragged on for hours. With the
assistance of Omar, I kept the debate orderly, and
we listened to all sorts of opinions.

For the most part, they felt that it would be
necessary to kill the animals. That, of course, was
the last thing in the world that I wanted. It would
mean that the expedition was wasted effort: there
are few live orang-outangs in zodlogical gardens,
but many stuffed ones in museums. I did not agree
with the idea that we should have to kill the animals
but I did not entirely disagree. We compromised
by reaching the decision that, if they must be killed,
I should do the work and no man should try to kill
them without my consent. The natives had seen
what one bullet from my rifle would do to a tree,
and they were convinced that an orang-outang
would stand a poor chance.

The council broke up and work began. I had
Omar set some of his men to making strong nets
of twisted rattan. He drew plans for the two cages
and had other men gather the limbs of trees for
them. The cages were just large enough to hold
the animals and small enough to keep them from
getting any leverage on the bars. After the skele-
tons of the cages were built, they were bound tightly
with rattan ropes so that, even if the bars were

130 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

broken, the orang-outangs would be in a network.

The strength of a full-grown orang-outang is
enormous. I have seen one bend a one-inch steel
bar as though it were made of rubber. If he can
brace himself properly, with plenty of room to exert
his entire strength, he can bend almost anything;
but between bending a bar and breaking a rope by
pulling, there is a great deal of difference. A rat-
tan rope will hold him, though a simple menagerie
cage may not give him any more trouble than a
paper hoop.

The strength of the orang-outang, or “wild
man,” as the name means in Malay, is largely in
his arms. The arms of a mias—the breed that we
were after—measure ten feet or more from tip to
tip. The mias type, which is next in size to the
gorilla, is somewhat larger than the ordinary breed.
It is distinguished by a darker color and by folds
of skin at. each side of the face. Its body, from
shoulders to hips, is about the size of a man’s. It
has short, undeveloped legs, long fingers and
thumbs that are mere stubs.

An orang-outang never travels on the ground
when he can swing from tree to tree, since there
are very few open spaces in the jungle, he seldom
reaches the ground except when he goes down to
get something. He can swing incredible distances,
hurtling through the air and catching branches
with perfect accuracy.

Orang-outangs usually live in colonies number-

SEA TRAGEDY; OF THE JUNGLE FOLK 131

ing from forty to sixty, and the largest and most
powerful is chief. They make their homes on plat-
forms by breaking off limbs and putting them criss-
cross. In mating season the male and female live
together, but the couples separate after the young
are born. The mother takes care of them and the
father goes off about his business.

As they do in the case of most dangerous ani-
mals, the native collectors hunt orang-outangs by
killing the mother and taking the young. The
weapon they most often use, except when they have
guns, is the blow-pipe, which, in the hands of an
expert, is not to be despised. It is a long, slender
tube, measuring from six to eight feet, made from
a single joint of arare bamboo. The tube is allowed
to dry and harden and is wrapped tightly with rat-
tan. The darts, which are about the size of a steel
knitting-needle, are made from the midribs of palm-
leaves, and at one end there is a small conical butt,
which fits tightly into the bore of the pipe. A small
nick is made in the shaft of the dart just below
the point, and the end is coated with a deadly poison
made from the sap of the upas-tree and another
species of the genus /po. When the dart strikes,
the end breaks off and remains in the wound; the
poison acts rapidly, first paralyzing, then killing
the victim. In warfare, also, the natives poison
kris and spear, and the wound is invariably fatal.

Fighting a full-grown orang-outang with weap-
ofis so primitive is extremely hazardous work, and

132 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

the natives avoid it except when a beast becomes a
menace to the village. An orang-outang in battle
is ferocious. If it is treed and afraid to come down,
it goes into a paroxysm of fury. It will bite its
arms, tearing the flesh away and inflicting frightful
wounds. If there are two of the animals, they bite
and hug each other. An orang-outang that has
been struck by an arrow can follow the natives in
the trees or on the ground while the poison is taking
effect. The only refuge from the frenzied creature
is the smoke of a fire, and, when it is sufficiently
enraged, even that will not stop it. The best chance
lies in keeping it so harried that it does not know
whom to attack; once it decides on a particular na-
tive, the native is as good as dead. When the poison
begins to work, after an animal has been wounded,
the natives end the fight with knives. The possibil-
ity of an orang-outang attack is a danger that all
the men must be prepared to face, and the duty of
engaging in an orang-outang hunt is no less im-
portant than that of making war. It was but
normal, therefore, that, as soon as I had convinced
the villagers of my trustworthiness, I should have
their hearty support.

After putting the men to work on the nets and
cages, I selected a crew of twenty-five to accompany
me while I went out to get the lay of the land. I
warned the men against doing anything that might
frighten the animals unnecessarily and explained
that we should do no hunting for smaller game until

SEA TRAGEDY: OF THE JUNGLE FOLK 133

we had attended to the two big orang-outangs.
With the guides leading, we started into the dense
jungle, and, after several hours of slow, tortuous
traveling, we came to the tree where the animals
lived. I could see, far up, the platform they had
built.

Fortunately the orang-outangs were not there,
and we were able to inspect the location at our leis-
ure. I stationed the men at one side, telling them
to wait for us, and then Omar and Munshee and I
circled the tree. The surrounding jungle was as
thick as any I have ever seen; the trees were so
close that their branches mingled and they were
woven togther with creepers, vines and rattan. It
was not possible to go forward a step without cut-
ting the way. The tree in which the orang-outangs
lived was the largest in the vicinity. Nearly an
hour passed before I decided upon the course we
would pursue. Squatting with Omar and Munshee,
I explained how we would cut away the trees, so as
to leave in isolation the one in which the animals
had their platform; then, how we would cut that
tree and tumble them into the net.

We went back to the place where the men were
waiting, and I put them to work at cutting the mass
of creepers that bound the trees together. The jun-
gle was so dense that it would have been impossible
to fell the trees without first cutting the network
woven between them; for it would have held the
trees upright even though they were cut at the base.

134 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

Without tearing the creepers to the ground, we cut
back as far as sixty feet on all sides. I estimated
that the trees beyond would be well out of swinging
distance for the orangs. At the point where I
planned to have the big tree drop, I had an addi-
tional thirty feet cut. Then, when the creepers were
all simply hanging, we began work on the trees.

First-rate native jungle men use their parangs
with astounding rapidity and accuracy. I doubt if
there are any finer woodsmen in the world. Their,
greatest fault is that they like to stop working in
order to talk. Omar, Munshee and I, knowing this
weakness for conversation, circled through the jun-
gle constantly, urging our men on. Partly as a
result of this watchfulness, perhaps, I have never
seen natives do a piece of work more neatly and
rapidly. It was vitally important, of course, that
we finish before the big fellows came swinging back
home.

The trees were cut so that they remained stand-
ing. We were trying to achieve something like a
flimsy structure built of cards or dominoes, which
one push will send toppling. Ata signal, every tree
in the circle I had mapped out was to fall, those
at the center, first, and the others in order, until the
one in which the orang-outangs had their platform
was isolated. It was a nice problem in jungle-craft
to cut the trees so that they would bear the weight
of animals swinging in the branches, and yet be so
weak that they would all fall—and in the proper

SEA TRAGEDY OF THE JUNGLE FOLK 135

directions—when we started them by pulling on the
ropes. I allowed myself to be guided entirely by
the judgment of the natives; they appreciated my
confidence and took care to see that the work was
done accurately.

The hacking of the parangs and the conversation
attracted hundreds of jungle animals, including
many of the smaller orang-outangs. We did not
molest them, and they grew bolder, until we had a
large, chattering, screaming audience watching us
work.

Long before the two big brutes came back to
their home, we were on our. way to Omar’s kam-
pong, with the first stage of the work completed.
The jungle as we left it did not appear greatly dif-
ferent from the way it looked when we arrived. I
knew that the orang-outangs would realize that
some one had been there, and yet I was fairly cer-
tain that the absence of human beings would re-
assure them. And, too, they would have several
days to accustom themselves to whatever changes
they noticed.

At the kampong, I called the men together again,
this time for an informal council. I told them that
T had considered carefully everything they had said
the day before, and that, after inspecting the loca-
tion, I had come to the conclusion that we could
easily capture the animals. It would be simply a
matter of rapid work and of each man’s thoroughly
understanding his job. Drawing a circle on the

136 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

ground and planting a stick in the middle, I ex-
plained what we were to do and how we were to do
it. Then I told them how we had cut the creepers
and prepared the trees.

During the next four days we avoided the loca-
tion as much as possible. Crews of men, bearing
bundles of dry grass and bushes, approached within
five hundred feet, dropped their bundles and re-
turned to the village. The grass and bushes were
to be used for the fire I planned to build at the base
of the tree, once the orang-outangs were isolated
there. We took care never to go near when the big
fellows were at home, and the other jungle crea-
tures grew less and less perturbed each time we
appeared.

I remained at the kampong, supervising the
making of the nets and cages. The entire popula-
tion helped us, and I put some of the people to work
at making smaller cages and rigging snares for
other animals. Finally, when the nets and cages
were ready and the material for the fire gathered
and in place, I began drilling the men in their parts.
Thirty men were detailed to the work of pulling
down the trees in the circle; ten men to clearing
the space where the big tree was to fall; and ten
men to handling each side of the big net. It was
upon the last-named crew that the success of the
attack rested, for any mistake or delay in manipu-
lating the net would mean that the animals would
escape—even probably with disastrous results.

SEA TRAGEDY OF THE JUNGLE FOLK 137

Qmar and Munshee helped me select the men from
the number of those who had previously demon-
strated their courage and resourcefulness in the
face of danger. I had a long pole put up near the
village, and we rehearsed the capture innumerable
times: the pole would fall, and the men would cast
the net and secure it over the bunch of grass tied
to the top to represent the orang-outangs. We re-
peated that performance for several days, and I
always stood by with my rifle in my hands as if I
were ready to put an explosive bullet into the bun-
dle of grass, if it tried to escape.

When they had played the part so many times
that there seemed to be no chance of a blunder, we
had a full rehearsal. As the pole fell, this time,
the other men closed in, beating with the clubs,
pounding tom-toms and yelling. I wanted them to
make just as much noise as possible when the orangs
came down; for noise paralyzes animals with fright
and makes them easier to handle.

On the eighth night at Omar’s village, I called
all the men together and announced that we would
start next morning before daybreak. Once again
IT made them promise that they would not kill the
beasts without my permission, and I, in turn, prom-
ised them that I would shoot if there was the least
danger. Long before daybreak the village was
astir. All those who were to take no part in the
hunt were ordered to stay behind, and they stood
silently watching us while the men shouldered the

138 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

nets and ropes and filed into the jungle blackness.

By the time it was light, each man was at his
post, waiting for me to fire my pistol as a signal.
We could see the two orang-outangs sleeping on
their platform.

The men who were to give the trees the final cut
and send them toppling over stole forward silently.
Ali was beside me, carrying my rifle; Omar and
Munshee were stationed near, one at each side. I
waited, scarcely daring to breathe, for them to sig-
nal ‘that their men were ready. Ali was intently
watching the orangs, to warn me if they stirred.

Omar moved first; then Munshee. I gave a quick
glance around and fired my pistol. Instantly the
tumult started; the men yelled and beat upon tom-
toms and trees. The orang-outangs leaped up be-
wildered and scrambled about their platform.
Through the noise I could hear the men at work
with their parangs; then came the crashing of trees.
‘The jungle seemed to fold up, and the big tree stood
alone. The orangs screamed and hugged each
other. Men rushed forward with the bundles of dry
grass and started the fire; others came with wet
leaves to make a smudge. One of the orangs start-
ed, as if to come down, and I reached for my rifle;
but when the smoke struck him, he went back to
the platform, screaming and tearing the tree. Then,
as the smoke, became more dense, the two animals
climbed higher and sat on the topmost limb, arms

SEA TRAGEDY OF THE JUNGLE FOLK 139

and legs wrapped around each other, completely
terrified.

The natives danced and yelled. Through the
clouds of smoke that drifted over us, I could see
their black bodies flashing, arms waving, and lips,
stained crimson with betel-nut, wide open. The din
was terrific. For several minutes I just stood there,
unable to move.

The orang-outangs, high up in the tree, were
huddled together, swaying back and forth. Omar
‘tame with the message that the space was cleared
for the tree to fall; I ordered the net carried to
position and sent the two headmen to place the
matives at their posts.

Dense clouds of smoke rolled up from the
smudges, enveloping the tree completely and hid-
ing the orang-outangs, who perched aloft, scream-
ing and coughing. I could get occasional glimpses
of them, as they sat there, hugging each other.

The big rattan nets were in place, with the men
holding them ready to cast when the tree came
down. Other men, armed with sharp-pointed poles,
stood behind, to pin the beasts down if the nets did
not fall in the proper position. They were so ex-
cited that I spent several minutes in casually walk-
ing about, talking with them and calming them. Ali
trudged a few feet behind me, carrying my express
rifle.

We cleared away the litter of tree trunks and
creepers from the spot where the big tree was to

140 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

fall, so that there might be nothing underfoot to
interfere with rapid work; then I gave the signal
for the tom-toms. The racket began again and the
crew of men detailed to cutting the tree ran through
the smoke barrier, waving their parangs and shout-
ing. I stood outside, near the net, watching the
orangs and keeping the men at their stations.
Omar was with me, and Munshee was with the
men who were doing the cutting. We could hear
the big knives hacking into the tree.

A messenger from Munshee came with the word
that the tree was ready to drop. I gave a hasty
glance around me, told the men to be on the alert
and sent him back with instructions to let the tree
fall. Once again through the din of tom-toms and
shouts we could hear chopping; the tree swayed for
a moment, the orang-outangs screamed with terror
and the men with the nets crouched, ready to spring.
Slowly the tree toppled and came down, gathering
speed as it fell, exactly in the spot we had marked.
When it struck, the entire jungle seemed to be in
upheaval.

The orang-outangs abruptly stopped their out-
cry. As they hit the ground, they were paralyzed
with fright. A net went sailing over them. In an
instant they came to their senses and began fighting.
With long, black, powerful arms they lashed at the
rattan; they leaped and struggled, biting the ropes
and tearing great gashes in their bodies. They
screamed and chattered furiously. One of them

SEA TRAGEDY OF THE JUNGLE FOLK 141

reached out and grabbed a native by the throat,
whipping him through the air and breaking his
neck. The native struck the ground several yards
away, blood pouring from his nose and mouth.

I yelled to the men to cast the second net and
secure it to the trees. The orangs kept up a con-
stant battle, lashing and heaving under the ropes
that pressed them to the ground. Their arms and
legs became entangled in the meshes of the nets,
and they wasted their strength in wrenching and
squirming, while we fastened them down. The
natives, crazy with excitement, pressed in, tumbling
over one another.

Our material had been put to the greatest test and
would hold the animals, I knew, for they could not
again equal the struggle of the first few minutes.
So, because I wanted them to have room to become
thoroughly tangled in the nets, I ordered the ropes
slackened a trifle.

Just then, while I was standing near the nets,
superintending the work of making them fast, a
huge paw shot out and grabbed my ankle. I was
jerked off the ground and, as I fell, my hands
caught the limb of a tree. I clung to it with all
my strength, feeling my fingers weaken and slip
while the brute pulled. The joints at my hip and
knee pained me for an instant; then my leg became
numb. The men stood terrified and I could not yell
at them! I felt myself growing dizzy and I simply
wondered why some one did not do something.

142 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

Then Omar grabbed a club and pounded the orang’s
arm; the pulling stopped, and I realized that I was
being dragged away from the nets. For several
minutes I was too groggy to know what was hap-
pening, but the idea that the natives might kill the
orang-outangs while I was disabled made me sit up.
They were standing there, looking first at me and
then at the animals, wondering what to do. I told
them I was all right and I began feeling my leg.
It was not broken, but it had been so badly wrenched
that I could not stand on it.

While I sat on the ground directing the work,
the men gathered the outside meshes of the nets
and ran a rope through them. Then, as the other
ropes were loosened, they pulled the noose close, and
the two brutes were in a sack. For the first time,
I had an opportunity to examine our catch; they
were the two biggest orang-outangs ever captured
in Borneo.

Gradually they exhausted themselves and gave
up the struggle. They peered out through the
meshes, snarling at the men who came near them
and sometimes shooting out a long arm with the
fingers opening and closing. The natives squatted
about in a circle, watching the animals and laugh-
ing.

When the men had rested, I had them build two
litters of boughs—one for the dead man and the
other for me. Then we strung the net on three
long poles, to be carried by twelve men, and started

“A huge paw shot out and grabbed my ankle. I was jerked
off the ground, and, as I fell, my hands caught the limb of a
tree. . . . The brute pulled. I felt myself growing dizzy. .
Then Omar grabbed a club and pounded the Orang’s arm.”

SEA TRAGEDY OF THE JUNGLE FOLK 143

back to the village. Messengers went on ahead to
tell the people of the kampong of our success. I
headed the procession; then came the orang-outangs
with natives dancing around them and beating tom-
toms; then the dead man. It was necessary to stop
often to change the crews that were carrying the
litters and animals—they weighed over five hun-
dred pounds—and the entire population of Omar’s
kampong came out to meet us in the jungle before
we had covered half the distance. My coolie boy,
who had remained at the village, was ahead of them
all. He was one of the fastest rickshaw men I have
ever seen, and his old training came in handy that
day. He wanted to carry me in his arms back to
the village, but I told him to run back and put some
water on to boil for me.

I left Omar and Munshee in charge of the orangs
and had my men hurry ahead with me, for my leg
was paining me intensely and I could feel the fever
coming on. I had many things to do before I could
afford to be sick, and I did not want to lose any
time. For one thing, I realized that it would be
impossible to get the animals into separate cages
and that it would be necessary to build a larger
cage before we could take them from the nets. It
would be too dangerous to leave them in the nets
overnight, for they might chew their way out.

At the village I found that my boy had laid out
my medicine kit. I soaked my leg in hot water
cand massaged it; then we painted it with iodine and

144 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

bandaged it tight. By the time the procession
arrived, I was ready to give Omar and Munshee
orders about the new cage.

While the women prepared the feast of chicken,
rice and sugar-cakes, the men went into the jungle
again and cut logs eight feet long and from six to
eight inches in diameter. These they drove two
feet into the ground, placing them not more than
three inches apart, so as to form a cage eight feet
long and three feet wide. Then they bound them
together tightly with rattan ropes, and made and
lashed down a strong roof of logs. One end of the
cage was left open for the animals to enter.

Propped up on my litter, I directed the work;
then I was carried while I made a careful inspec-
tion of it. When the cage was ready, the orang-
outangs were brought up to the open end, the poles
were drawn out and the slip-knot of the outer. net
was loosened. By using poles and working at a
respectful distance, the men forced into the cage the
single net containing the animals; then they drove
the end-bars into the ground and lashed then/.
Finally, by working between the bars, they loosened
the slip-knot of the net and left the orang-outangs
free to untangle themselves.

By the time the job was finished, I was exhausted
by the fever, and my leg was paining me unbear-
ably. I thanked the men for their good work and
was carried back to Omar’s house. The people
were disappointed that I could not take part in the

SEA TRAGEDY OF THE JUNGLE FOLK 145°

great celebration they were preparing, and deputa-
tions arrived at the house to ask if they could do
anything for me. Ina hundred different ways they
showed their concern for me and their kindness,
and I know that they would have dispensed gladly
with their merrymaking if I had intimated that the
noise might keep me awake. Sleep was, of course,
out of the question, but not because of the noise;
my leg was puffed and swollen, and the fever was
growing worse. Outside, I could hear the people
celebrating. The ceremonies began with the funeral
of the man that had been killed and they lasted until
daybreak.

In the morning I sent for Munshee and told him
that it would be necessary for me to go down the
river to Sintang, where Dr. Van Erman lived. He
selected four of his fastest boatmen and sent them
off to the doctor with the message that I was com-
ing. Their orders were that they might stop at
Nanaoh-Pinoh to eat, but that they were not to rest
until the message was delivered. Just as soon as
they were out of the way, Munshee turned to pre-
paring a boat for me; an awning made of palm-
leaves was put over the center and a bed arranged.

I left Omar in charge of the orang-outangs, with
‘Ali to assist him. Ali objected to being left behind,
but I explained to him that he could be of greatest
service to me by staying. He was to see that the
orang-outangs were fed and watered and to have
the natives trap other animals for me. I instructed

146 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

Omar to build a shed over the cage and to place a
fence around it, so that none of the natives could
venture too close.

When my boat was ready, all the people of the
kampong were on hand to bid me good-by and wish
me a speedy recovery. Munshee steered and six
men paddled. Another boat followed with my sup-
plies. I went down the river, thinking that I had
never found a kinder, more hospitable people than
these, who are known throughout the world as sav-
ages and head-hunters.

My fever grew worse and worse and I became
delirious. I did not know until later that Munshee
urged the men on, hour after hour, until we over-
took the messenger boat. The last thing that I
remember of the trip was that everything became
a blur. The men who were paddling, the river with
its green banks, Munshee, the awning over my head
and the coolie boy all whirled around and grew
indistinct. I was unconscious when we reached
Sintang.

Two days later I awoke in Dr. Van Erman’s
house and was unable for some time to realize
where I was and why I was there. The doctor came
in and talked with me for a few minutes. He said
that I would be well in two weeks and that my leg:
was not badly damaged. Then I drifted off to sleep
agait.

The next day I felt stronger, and the doctor re-
peated some of the tales the natives were telling

SEA TRAGEDY OF THE JUNGLE FOLK 147

about the capture of the orang-outangs and the
death of the crocodile. The stories had improved
with age, and so I told him what had actually hap-
pened.

“Mahommed Munshee has been waiting here for
you to get well,” said the doctor. “I think he’d like
to see you—if you don’t mind.”

Munshee came in, beaming with delight. Tak-
ing my hand and pressing it to his forehead, he
told me that only one chosen by “God and Prophet”
could recover from the fever and the sickness
caused by the paw of an orang-outang. All of the
villagers, he said, had been making offerings to the
different deities for my recovery, and the people
would be happy to hear that Tuan was well again.
I told him that I would return with him to Omar’s
kampong within two weeks, and he left, promising
to come for me.

The days at Dr. Van Erman’s house passed
quickly and pleasantly. I found him a thoroughly
fine man, as well as a fine doctor, and I enjoyed his
companionship. Under his care I rapidly threw
off the fever, and my leg healed so that I could get
about with little difficulty. The ankle had been dis-
located by the grip of the orang-outang’s paw, and
the tendons badly strained.

By the time Mahommed Munshee came for me,
I was quite ready to go up the river. I had seen
enough of the country to know that the jungles were
full of animals, and I wanted to capture as many

148 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

as possible before starting back for Singapore.
Munshee said that the orang-outangs were in good
health and that Omar’s men, working with Ali, had
made many captures. Dr. Van Erman cashed a
draft for me, so that I should have silver money to
distribute to the natives who had helped me, and
I started up the river, promising to stop on my
way down so that the docter could see the animals.

At Munshee’s request, I stopped overnight in his
village. The people gave me a royal welcome and
we had a fine celebration. The news of my coming
went ahead of us, and Omar and Ali came down
the river, meeting us two hours’ distance below the
kampong. They gave me an enthusiastic reception
and I was touched by their affection. We rowed
on up the river and, when we reached Omar’s vil-
lage, I found that the people had been busy for
days, preparing the festivities in honor of my
return.

After greeting the people, I went directly to
the cage of the orang-outangs. They showed little
fight, and I was encouraged to find that they were
not too despondent. I did not want to risk trans-
porting them until they had become thoroughly
accustomed to captivity—or at least as much accus-
tomed to it as is possible for orang-outangs. For
homesickness grips them just as it grips human
beings, and they become pitiable objects. If they
refuse to eat, it is scarcely worth while to spend
time and money in transporting them, for seasick-

SEA TRAGEDY OF THE JUNGLE FOLK 149

ness and the excitement of traveling will kill them.
I had been lucky enough to find my captives eating
quietly and taking life calmly.

The celebration lasted until dawn, but I excused
myself early and went to bed. Omar explained
to his people that I would become ill again unless
I rested, and they escorted me to the house with
all the ceremonious attention that they would have
shown to royalty. I did not appreciate at the time
quite how near I was to being a royal person in
their eyes; but I found out later that Ali, during my
absence, had been absolutely shameless in the tales
he told about me. I habitually dined with sultans
and rajas; I was an exorcist, renowned the world
over; I feared no hantu (ghost) and, in addition,
to all that, I was a master of hobatan (magic), who,
by using his powers, could capture elephants as if
they were monkeys. But, apart from Ali’s stories,
the people liked me because I had engineered the
capture of the beasts that had been terrorizing them.
And I liked them better than any other people I
had met in all my travels.

Before beginning the work of capturing other
animals, I turned my attention to preparing the
transportation cages. These were three feet wide,
three feet high and five and a half feet long—just
large enough to hold the orangs, without giving
them any chance to wrench at the bars. They sat
clutching each other while we placed the transporta-
tion cages at each end of the big cage. Occasionally

150 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

they snarled at us and reached out between the bars.
Natives armed with sharpened poles held them back.
Then, by poking and prodding, we separated them
and ran bars through the center of the big cage.
‘These operations excited the beasts so greatly that
we left off work for the day. The next morning
we went to the cage again and cut away the end-
bars so that the animals could enter their trans-
portation cages. These gave them more room, and
I stationed an extra guard over them with instruc-
tions to call me immediately if they began to tear
at the bars. Ali spent practically all of his time
there, talking to them and feeding them. Grad-
ually they became accustomed to him, and, although
they were far from accepting him as a friend, they
did know him and realize that he was not there to
hurt or annoy them. All others, except the head-
men and myself, were kept away from the cages.

Food was always placed in the transportation
cages, and, since the animals were deprived of each
other’s company, they became accustomed to spend-
ing their time in them. That, of course, was exactly
what I wanted, and the prospects looked more
encouraging each day.

We spent the next two weeks in trapping and
snaring, and I kept the men of the kampong busy
all the time, either at collecting the animals or at
building cages for them. I was fortunate enough
to get one proboscis monkey. It is a rare, long-
nosed species, difficult to capture. My standing

SEA TRAGEDY: OF THE JUNGLE FOLK 151

orders from zodlogical gardens all over the world
always included one of these creatures, but this was
the only one I ever caught. We found him hope-
lessly tangled in a net we had put up near a water-
ing place. He was a fine specimen, two feet high,
with long arms, legs and tail, and a nose that meas-
ured two inches.

Netting animals in the way in which we caught
this monkey is one of the easiest and best modes
of collecting. The size of the net and of the meshes
will depend entirely upon what one hopes to cap-
ture. Our nets varied from eight feet square to
fifteen feet long by ten feet wide. The meshes
measured from two to four inches. The net is
placed at a spot where animals are sure to pass;
it is suspended across the trail and held in place
by light bamboo poles. Leaves and grass are scat-
tered over it until it cannot be distinguished from
the ground. When an animal steps into it, the net
falls and he begins to struggle instead of quietly
working his way out. Within a minute he has him-
self so tangled in the meshes that it is sometimes
necessary to cut the net to get him out. One great
advantage connected with this method of trapping
is that the animal is never injured; he simply wears
himself out and then, exhausted, stays in the net
until some one comes along to release him. A cat
animal, for example, comes running into a net; its
feet catch and it goes tumbling, rolling over and
over, roaring and pawing. In a few seconds it

152 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

becomes so tangled that it cannot move an inch.
Its cries bring the men who have been posted as
lookouts, and they carry it back to the kampong
on poles.

Contrary to the general idea, cat animals, such
as tigers and leopards, are the easiest to catch in
traps as well as nets. The work is as simple as
baiting a rat-trap and it requires little sagacity. A
box-trap with a spring-door will make a catch time
after time, with no more trouble than transferring
the animal to a transportation cage and rebaiting
the trap with a chicken or a small goat. It is wise
to allow a fairly long runway between door and
bait so that the captive will not be injured when
the door springs shut. After recovering from the
surprise of finding itself trapped, the animal eats
the bait, which supplies it with food until the natives
come along on their regular tours of inspection. It
is just routine work, involving but little excitement.

Among the animals we captured while working
from Omar’s kampong were three gibbons, or wah-
wahs. These are also known as flying gibbons, be-
cause they make such long leaps from tree to tree.
They are a tailless breed of monkey, rather rare
and extremely difficult to catch. Once captured,
they become affectionate pets and they command a
good price for that reason. They have soft, downy,
light brown, silver-gray or yellow hair, black faces
and large, round, expressive eyes.

The work of trapping and snaring went along

SEA’ TRAGEDY OF THE JUNGLE FOLK 153

steadily during the ten days I spent with Omar. By,
the time the orang-outangs were ready to travel,
we had three gibbons, four baby orang-outangs, one
proboscis-monkey, ten black monkeys, eighteen
long-tailed monkeys, twenty-two pig-tailed mon-
keys, three pythons, which averaged eight feet in
length, two sambur deer, one sun-bear, three wild-
cats, four civet-cats, four porcupines, one ant-eater
and two armadillos.

We slipped the bars over the open ends of the
cages in which the big fellows were to travel, and
lashed them securely with rattan ropes. Since the
boats at the kampong were too small, I had two
large rafts made of bamboo and I placed all the
cages on them.

When everything was ready, we boarded the
boats and rafts and started down the river. The
people lined the banks, shouting and wishing us a
safe journey; others followed us in boats. At each
village, the natives swarmed out to see the animals
and wish us luck. I can still hear them calling:
“Tian, bila balk? Salam-at jalan! (Sir, when
will you come back? Safe journey!)”

We stopped at Mahommed Munshee’s village,
and then at Sintang. I found that Dr. Van Erman
had gone down to Pontianak. Another swarm of
natives met us when we arrived there, and I had
to station my men around the rafts to keep them
from coming aboard.

Leaving Ali in charge of the animals, I went

154 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS ;

ashore and found that a steamer was sailing for
Singapore the next morning. I made arrange-
ments for shipping, and then went to the Resident’s
house to pay my respects. Dr. Van Erman was
there and, after luncheon, I took the Resident and
the doctor out to see my catch. The Resident was
profuse in his congratulations and he confirmed my
belief that the orang-outangs were the largest ever.
captured in Borneo.

Omar and Munshee assisted in the work of load-
ing the crates on the steamer, because they felt
that their obligation to me did not end until we
had the animals clear of Borneo. I felt, of course,
that I was under obligation to them for all the fine
work they and their people had done for me, and
I wanted them to accept some money for their
services. They refused at first but finally they gave
in. From their point of view, they had made suffi-
cient profit, merely in prestige, both with their own
people and with the Resident. I made them my
agents in their districts and took them with me to
the offices of the steamship company while I
arranged to have any animals they brought to Pon-
tianak shipped to me at Singapore. When we sailed
the next day, they were in their boats alongside,
waving and yelling.

There was great excitement in Singapore when
the story of the orang-outangs got about. Hordes
of people came to see them unloaded. I called upon
the police to keep the crowd back, for I was afraid

SEA TRAGEDY OF THE JUNGLE FOLK 155

the excitement might be too much for the beasts.

At my animal house, I put them in a quiet spot
and left Ali in charge with strict orders against
letting too many people come to see them. Then
I went to the cable office and sent to the Antwerp
Zoological Gardens news of the capture.

There was no question in my mind as to what
the answer to my cablegram would be, and, before
it arrived, I made all the arrangements for ship-
ping. Antwerp offered $10,000 each for the ani-
mals delivered. I knew that I could get offers of
$25,000 or more in the United States, but that the
orangs would not be able to stand the voyage. I
sent another message to Antwerp, saying that I
was Sailing and requesting that arrangements be
made for shipping by rail from Marseilles.

A few days later, the cages were swung aboard
and we started eastward. Ali accompanied me to
care for the animals.

From the moment the steamer headed out to sea,
the orang-outangs began to fail. They became
deathly seasick, especially the female, and refused
food. Ali and I were with them constantly, tempt-
ing their appetites with choice bits of food and doing
everything possible to make them comfortable. The
male grew better but the female lost strength rap-
idly. Finally she slumped down to the floor of the
cage, unable to sit up; she paid no attention to us
when we reached into the cage and touched her.

One morning she curled up on the floor, buried

156 TRAPPING WILD ‘ANIMALS ,

her face in her arms and died. Through her death
I lost a great deal of money, but I could not help
feeling relieved. She had been so abjectly miser-
able and she had seemed so human in her suffering!
I have often wondered if the male had any idea
that she was dead. He ceased to improve in health
and he became morose. Many days of anxiety fol-
lowed; every minute I expected the message that
the poor fellow was dying.

The ship’s carpenter built a vat, and we “pickled”
the body of the female in salt water. I knew that
some natural history museum would be glad to have
such a specimen for mounting. We steamed into
the harbor at Marseilles with the male still alive,
and I thought that there was an even chance of
getting him to Antwerp if the people there had fol-
lowed my instructions and arranged transportation.
An agent met me at the dock. Everything was pre-
pared for us, and we lost no time in getting the
beast to the train.

When we reached Antwerp, I felt like standing
on the platform and whooping. My job was fin-
ished.

The men from the Gardens took charge and
rushed the orang-outang out to the cage that had
been built to receive him. We ran the transporta-
tion cage up to the door and cut away the bars.
The orang-outang came out slowly, like a tired and
sick old man. He was not interested in his new
surroundings and he pushed away the food that we

SEA’ TRAGEDY: OF THE JUNGLE FOLK 157

put before him. Veterinarians could do nothing for
him. Ten days later he died.

Ali and I remained in Antwerp for several weeks.
It was Ali’s first trip to Europe, and not a very
enjoyable one. He was bewildered and puzzled; he
could not understand such a country. Only once
did he venture out of the hotel without me, and
then he did not go out of sight. He slept in my
room on the floor—he would have nothing to do
with a bed—and he would touch no food that was
not vouched for by me.

When we boarded the boat that was to take us
back to the Far East, Ali’s face brightened. He
had had a wonderful experience, but he said: “Oh,
tian, I am happy to go home: I would not live
here.”

VI
“KILLING A MAN-EATER”

EFORE describing my experience with a man-
eating tiger, I want to tell something of their
habits and the usual methods of hunting them.

There are three classes of tiger, the game killer,
the cattle killer and the man-eater.

The game killer confines himself to heavy jungle
amongst the hills, where he keeps to the feed-
ing-grounds and resorts of game; he is a great
killer of deer and wild pigs; he shuns the haunts
of man and wanders in the jungle at all hours.

They are lighter and more active than the cattle
killer. Doubtless the reason is that they have to
travel farther for their food.

The terror inspired throughout a district by a
man-eating tiger is extreme and the natives are only
safe in numbers. The rapidity and certainty of its
movements form the chief element of the terror it
causes ; it is generally an old tiger or tigress, or one
that has been wounded or otherwise hurt, and has
been unable to procure its food in its usual way.

Cattle-killing tigers frequent jungle close to vil-
lages and seize a victim amongst cattle where they
graze, or pick up a stray animal about the villages

at night.
158

“KILLING A MAN-EATER” 159

The largest tigers are found amongst the habit-
ual cattle killers. When a tiger becomes old and
fat he usually settles down in some locality where
beef and water are plentiful, and here he lives on
amicable terms with the villages, killing a cow or
bullock about once in four or five days.

A full grown, large tiger would have no chance
in a fair fight with a bull-bison; the latter’s brawny
throat, with its hide one and a half inches thick,
would afford him a difficult hold, even could he
attain it, and no wrench could dislocate the bison’s
powerful neck, while the tiger would be crushed out
of all recognition if once caught between the ground
and the bison’s massive forehead or forelegs.

I have never witnessed a tiger actually seize its
prey, but it has been described to me by natives
who have seen them many times while tending cat-
tle. The general method is for the tiger to slink
up under cover of bushes or long grass ahead of
the cattle and to make a rush at the first cow or
bullock that comes within five or six yards. The
tiger does not “spring” upon his prey in the man-
ner usually represented, but clutching the bullock’s
forequarters with his paws, one being generally
over the shoulder, he seizes the throat in his jaws
from underneath and turns it upwards and over,
sometimes, springing to the far side in doing so
to throw the bullock over and give the wrench which
dislocates its neck.

The popular belief that a tiger can kill his prey

160 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

by a stroke is erroneous. I have never seen any-
thing to support this belief nor is it held by natives.
I have seen several cattle severely lacerated which
had escaped from tigers, where had a heavy blow
accompanied the strokes of the paws, bones must
have been broken.

There is no foundation for the belief in tigers
sucking the blood of their victims; the jugular vein
is seldom if ever injured; it is by the fracturing of
the vertibrz, not by blood-letting, that the tiger’s
prey is deprived of life. In eating, the tiger invar-
iably commences at the hindquarters and the exact
spot where the first mouthful will be taken can be
told with certainty.

The flesh of one or both thighs, and sometimes
the flanks, or about fifty or sixty pounds of meat
is eaten the first night.

Tigers seldom lie up far from their kill if the
cover be thick and quiet; they eat whenever inclined
either by day or night till the carcass is finished;
this is usually on the third day; but of course, this
depends upon the size of the animal killed. After
or during a meal the tiger drinks largely, often
walking belly deep into the water.

Tigers’ power of enduring hunger and thirst is
very great. Once we surrounded with nets a tiger,
tigress and a leopard. We shot the leopard the
first day, but the enclosed thicket was so dense that
we could not get the tigers to show, but on the fifth
day we wounded them both. After this, as nothing

“KILLING A MAN-EATER” 161

would make them break cover, I sent for elephants
and killed them still full of vigor on the tenth day.
The circle in which they were enclosed was about
seventy yards in diameter, and the heat of the fires
kept up night and day was considerable, yet they
existed without a drop of water for ten days, suffer-
ing from wounds half the time. A tiger can go
much longer than this without serious inconveni-
ence. One of the most powerful elements in the
tiger’s attack is his voice. If the attack be com-
menced very near, the startling, coughing roar is
almost paralyzing to the coolest, but if the tiger has
to come on from any distance, he rarely does more
than grunt, and the hunter’s attention is concen-
trated on the beast itself, so the demonstration
passes unnoticed.

The power of the tiger’s voice at close quarters
may be understood by anyone who has had an
opportunity of seeing a newly caged tiger; it is
almost impossible to watch the charge against the
bars without flinching, if standing within a yard or
so of them, but if seen at twenty yards distance it
is nothing.

The tigress does not breed oftener than once in
two years. They do not breed at any fixed season.
Cubs have been taken in March, May and October.

A tigress feeds her cubs when very young with
half-digested flesh which she disgorges on her
return from hunting or kill. Carrying meat to any
distance would be an unnatural proceeding, and the

162 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

half-digested flesh is probably better adapted to the
requirements of young cubs.

When only six weeks old the cubs move from
place to place with their mother, but are left at
home while she hunts, though she leads them to
feast if near when she kills.

Watching for the return from a kill, or at a pool
where they are known to drink, is a method of
hunting chiefly practiced by natives. Poison pit-
falls and traps are generally brought into play when
dealing with a man-eater. There is perhaps no
method of shooting tigers so seldom successful as
watching for their return to feed on animals they
have killed. For my part, I confess toa great liking
for the silent and solitary watch, which kind of
shooting requires the utmost vigilance and patience.

In a shady, green-screened platform in some fine
tree, watching at the cool of evening, when jungle
sounds alone break the stillness and birds and
animals seldom seen at other times steal forth and
can be watched at leisure, an intense excitement is
kept alive by the possibility of the tiger’s appearance
at any moment. Those without experience at this
game do well to pause, but one who knows the beast
he has to deal with may kill many dangerous ani-
mals on foot without accident or even serious adven-
ture. Almost every accident that occurs is directly
traceable to ignorance or carelessness; the hunter
is a tyro or over-venturesome, or due precautions
are not observed when following a wounded beast

“KILLING A MAN-EATER” 163

on foot and moving about where he does not think
the animal can possibly be, he is seized.

Tiger shooting on foot can never, of course, be
safe sport; risks must be run, but if properly con-
ducted, dangerous game shooting on foot is not the
mad amusement usually supposed.

It makes all the difference in the world whether.
the animal to be attacked is wounded or not, and
whether any tiger should be attacked on foot or
left alone depends greatly on the nature of the
jungle in which he is found.

In the grass plains and thick undergrowth in
parts of the Malay Peninsula I have seen tigers that
could only be shot at from the elevation of an ele-
phant’s back. None but the utterly ignorant would
think of following a wounded tiger in the long
grass or close cover where it has every advantage,
and the hunter may be seized before he has time
to use his rifle. In such cover the tiger rarely.
makes any demonstration, seeking only to avoid
observation, but when almost stumbled upon he
attacks like lightning.

Under no temptation should a hunter’s last shot
be fired at a retreating beast.

The really best time for tiger hunting in the
Malay Peninsula is in the height of the hot season,
July and August, when the water supply is at its
lowest ebb. The tigers being very impatient of
thirst, seek the lowest valley where much of the

164 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

game he preys upon has gathered and where the
village cattle are regularly watered.

It is quite useless to devote much time in hunt-
ing the hill or game killing tiger that preys upon
game alone; they are so scattered over a large tract
of jungle and so active and wary that it is only by
accident that they are ever brought to bay.

The average size of a full-grown tiger is from
eight and a half to nine feet from nose to tip of
tail and weight from two hundred and seventy-five
to three hundred and twenty-five pounds.

One day an old friend, Tungku S’leman, a petty.
rajah from Kelantan, then under the Siamese Pro-
tectorate but now under the British, called on me
and invited me to go back with him to his district
to trap or kill tigers, and he assured me I would
be able to get some fine tiger cubs. I was in fact
wery anxious to secure a few good specimens of
young tigers, but as his district was far inland, near
the boundary line of a small state called “Rawang,”
I did not think it worth my while to go, for it would
involve a lot of time, and knowing the Malays and
their ways so well, it might mean that I would have
to beat about the country on a wild goose chase. A
Malay will always exaggerate, no matter on what
subject, and, as stated elsewhere in my articles, they
finally believe what they are telling. They will
never do today what can be put off until tomorrow
—“Nou-tee Bess-so” (wait tomorrow) is one of the
principal words in their vocabulary.

“KILLING A MAN-EATER” 165

As the Tung-ku’s district was difficult to reach,
the Kelantan river branching miles from the nearest
point, and elephants being the only means of travel,
I told him that if I decided to go back with him he
would have to furnish the elephants and all the men
I might need. I also pointed out to him the difficulty
in transporting animals and cages to the coast, and
that the cost in time to me would probably be
greater than the trip and animals were worth. It
was my policy not to show any interest.

I could see that the Tungku was anxious to have
me return with him to his district, as it was tiger
infested, and his people were leaving on that
account. He agreed to do everything in his power.
as to men, elephants and transportation to the coast.
I told him I was very busy but that I would think
it over, and to come back in a few days when I
would give him a definite answer.

As nearly all my animals had been shipped from
my house in Orchard Road, I decided to take the
trip with Tungku S’leman and go in for not only
tigers but whatever it was possible to get. I was
keen on securing a good specimen of rhinoceros,
and tapir, so made my preparations for a lengthy
stay in his district, and for getting whatever ani-
mals I could, large or small. When on the follow-
ing day the Tungku came to see me and I told
him I would go back with him, he seemed a happy
man. I advised him to send his chief follower on
ahead so that he could have the elephants meet

166 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

us at the end of our trip down the Kelantan river,
to take us inland, as that would save a lot of time
and unnecessary waiting for them to come down for
us. He assured me the elephants were there as
they would remain until he returned. So the fol-
lowing week we started up the coast in a small ves-
sel, and arriving at Koto Bharn, we went up by boat
to the capital, Kelantan, and the next day after
paying my respects to the Sultan, we started up the
Kelantan river to where the river turned further
south. Here at a kampong we found the four
elephants of Tungku S’leman. We stopped four
days at this kampong, getting everything packed
that would not be used or wanted until we reached
the Tungku’s village, which meant a four days’
journey through jungle.

Taking six men, including the headman, I started
on a tour of inspection of that district for the best
location to set up our traps, dig pits, and spread
nets for smaller game, as the headman informed me
that deer, wild pigs and tapir were numerous, but
very shy. On our return to the kampong, I had
a trap made and set up for the catching of tigers
and leopards, and explained how the nets were to
be made of rattan, both large and small mesh, and
how to set them amongst the trees. I was partic-
ular to impress upon the headman that he was to
remove all signs of the jungle being disturbed and
if possible have a goat tied to the windward while
setting up the large trap.

“KILLING A MAN-EATER” 167

T did the same at the two other kampongss before
we reached Tungku S’lamen’s village, where I was
received with interest by the natives, as I was one
of the very few white people they had ever seen,
and as the runners had hurried on ahead as we were
getting close to his village, they were all out to see
Man Gagah (Sir Elephant). After resting for a
few days and hearing whatever news there was
regarding the man-eater that was terrorizing the
district, I thought it best to try and round him up by
elephants.

As they are cowardly, as well as cunning, they
are most difficult to stalk, and as their movements
are so uncertain it is very difficult to locate them,
it was essential that the men who were to work with
me could be depended upon at the right moment. I
assured them that in numbers they were safe from
the tiger, and that by showing a bold front the tiger
would be more afraid of them than they of it. The
last time it had been reported had been about ten
days before, and nothing could be done for the time
being, so I started the men making traps, snares
and nets. These I intended to set up within a cer-
tain area, while with others I started out on a tour
of inspection with the elephants to visit all the water
holes and drinking pools in the surrounding district.
There I intended to have pits dug and to mark
the best places for setting the nets; the traps I
intended to set up later, depending more on the nets,
as I had already had traps set up in the kampongs

168 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

on our way to the Tungku’s village. I spent a whole
week in working out different areas for snaring by
nets.

I had nets made of twisted rattan in sizes of
twenty by fifteen feet with meshes six inches, other
nets ten by eight and five by five feet with meshes
according to what the net was best adapted for.

The older men who could not follow the hunt, I
had put to work making transporting or rough
string cages and crates, for monkeys as well as
tigers.

My plan was to work each section or area and
catch by either net or pit whatever we could.
Everything was in readiness to start at daybreak
the following morning, when a native came running
into the kampong, crying as he ran, “Re-mow,
Sa-tan” (Devil Tiger). The man was about to
collapse with fright and exhaustion from running.
I calmed him so he could tell his story, which was
that while he, his wife and daughter were gathering
some faggots not one hundred yards from his hut,
the tiger suddenly sprang from the thicket and
striking his daughter down, carried her off in the
jungle. After leaving his wife in the hut, he ran
to the Tungku’s kampong to inform the Tungku
what had happened.

As it was too late in the afternoon to do anything
T told Tungku S’lamen to send out the alarm for
all the available men; the alarm is sounded by the
striking of a hollow log, which can be heard for

“KILLING A MAN-EATER” 169

miles in the stillness of the jungle, and all natives
hearing the booming sound know its meaning. I
advised Tungku to send five or six men back with
the messenger and for them to stay with him until
we came the next morning. The hunt was on, and
all preparations were made at once for our early
start, as the men began to flock in from the outlying
kampong. They were to stay at the Tungku’s kam-
pong that night to be ready to start at daybreak
after eating their breakfast. There was intense
excitement throughout the whole night, very little
sleep for anyone, for, as I told the men, they would
not return until we had killed the tiger. A few of
the natives, especially the headmen, had flintlock,
muzzle-loading rifles. To these I handed out extra
powder and slugs; they were really good marksmen
and men who could be depended on at the right
moment.

We started at daybreak. The men having eaten,
everyone was anxious and eager to be off, now that
the hunt was to be conducted not alone by a white
man, but in numbers. There were fifty natives; the
Tungku and two of his headmen with their flint-
lock rifles rode on the first elephant, while Ali and
myself followed behind on the second, the third
with stores bringing up the rear, for I had no idea
when we would get back. Although the Tungku
assured me the elephants were well broken, I did
not place any reliance on them. Riding on an ele-
phant and jogging along peacefully is one thing,

170 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

and tiger hunting on the back of one is quite an-
other. As I have mentioned elsewhere, they are
excessively timid both in their wild and domestic
state, and to become a well-trained, tiger-hunting:
elephant, one so broken must have plenty of courage
and experience. It is simply madness to attempt to
use an elephant that has never been broken and
tried out, as they will always bolt. Then again, if
one never. had a gun fired from its back, the effect
is rather startling to his riders. It is a terrible thing
to be bolted with while on an elephant’s back in the
jungle. I intended to take no chances while mounted
as far as shooting was concerned, depending on cor-
nering the tiger, if possible, and if the ground were
favorable, start on foot.

Besides my 50-110 express, I had a Holland
double-barrel 450 and a Fox No. 12 smooth
bore shotgun. Ali had his spears, but was to
use either the express or double-barrel Holland
if we came up with the tiger. The other men
carrying spears, parangs and tom-toms made
up the party. Arriving at the place where the girl
had been seized, two men who were experienced
trackers took up the trail, which was quite fresh and
plain and could be easily followed. Presently we
came upon the remains of the poor victim. Very
little was left—only the head and upper part of her
body. We stopped only long enough to bury the
remains. The tracks were not over an hour old,
and as the jungle was sparse, it would give no cover

“KILLING A MAN-EATER” 171

to the tiger. After crossing a small stream, his
track led toward a rocky hill less than two miles
distant, coming suddenly into a clearing with tall
grass.

I shouted to the men to spread out, keep quiet,
and move slowly within a few feet of each other.
As the grass was still heavy with dew, we could see
where the tiger had passed through to the right into
the thicker jungle. We had perhaps traveled about
one hour, the tracks becoming difficult to follow on
account of heavy undergrowth, when we were
startled by the screaming and chattering of mon-
keys. We knew then the tiger was not far ahead,
and at the same time the elephant that the Tungku
was on, spreading his ears and raising his trunk,
uttered a shrill, brassy trumpet, expressing his fear.
I called to the Tungku to take the elephant back,
as he would be worse than useless. He was quickly
turned about and driven behind, the Tungku com-
ing up with me, the two headmen joining the men
on foot. The elephant I was on showed no sign
of uneasiness; the mahout or driver spoke sharply
to him, calling back to me that he could handle him
as that was not the first time he had been used in
smelling tiger. Still I was loath to risk firing a
gun from his back.

We followed the trail of the chattering monkeys,
when suddenly they ceased, as we came to a very
heavy patch with thick undergrowth, excellent
cover for the tiger, into which he had evidently

172 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS y

gone. The patch itself was not more than seventy
yards in diameter. I called to the men to stretch out
and surround the place, and make as much noise as
possible, keeping close together.

As soon as the patch was surrounded, I told the
Tungku to send the two elephants, the one he had
been on and the other one carrying stores, back to
his kampong for more men, and the men as they
came on were to cut and load up the elephants with
all the dry wood they could; also each man was to
carry some wood and as many of the long nets as
had been made. These I intended to spread out
at the back and as much around the sides as possi-
ble, making doubly sure he should not escape. I
told the Tungku we would not leave the spot until
the tiger had been killed. I had a platform built
with “kaj-ongs” forming the roof. This was very
soon finished, and late in the afternoon the elephants
returned with more foodstuffs, wood and forty men.
Each man had gathered a good bundle of dried
wood, which wood I had passed around, as I in-
tended to form a circle of fire and keep the tiger
within the circle. I then had the fires started and
they were kept up the whole night, but in the morn-
ing the fires that were in front of the platform were
allowed to die out, and after the men had taken
turns eating, I ordered them to close in about twen-
ty-five feet, throwing the fire before them. In this
way I kept narrowing the circle every few hours
while we on the platform kept a keen lookout.

“KILLING A MAN-EATER” 173

On the second day one of the headmen on the
left side of the circle fired a shot at what he said
was the tiger. Instantly there was a great com-
motion and the men started shouting and making a
great noise. We were keenly on the alert, as the
platform faced the only spot of the circle that was
open and free from fire, and hoped the tiger would
break cover. Suddenly Ali, touching me, quietly
said, as he raised his gun to his shoulder, “Tuem-
block-on-po-ko” (behind the tree). Telling him to
cover. the left side, I covered the right side of the
tree the tiger was crouching behind, and told Ali to
shoot as close to the tree as he could without hitting
it. He fired, and almost instantly I let go at a
streak of yellow and black; it disappeared at once.
The yelling by this time was enough to drown the
grunt or roar of the tiger; there was no way at
the time to know if we had succeeded in hit-
ting it, so completing the fire circle in front of
the platform, we lay down to sleep as best we could.
What little wind there was, was in our direction,
and kept us pretty free from being eaten alive by
mosquitoes.

On the morning of the fourth idee the tiger had
not broken cover and as the circle had now nar-
rowed to about fifty yards, the heat was intense, for
the fires were kept going day and night. Still the
tiger would not break cover. I was determined to
go into the circle then with the elephant, as the nets

174 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

were well put up at the back, outside of the fire, and
that allowed more men to strengthen the sides. I
was taking no chances of escape. I had two head-
men get up on the elephant I had come on, and told
the driver to back a short distance, as I wanted the
headmen to shoot off their guns from the elephant’s
back, in order to watch the effect on the elephant.
I told them to each fire his gun off on opposite
sides but not at the same instant. Well, he never
moved, and when those muzzle-loading flintlocks
go off they certainly kick and make a startling noise.
After that test I was satisfied to take the chance
and told the Tungku that Ali and myself were going
in after the tiger, and that he and his two headmen
must keep a sharp lookout from the platform and
have their guns trained on the opening. The ma-
hout was a plucky fellow and felt very proud, assur-
ing me he could handle his elephant.

I passed the word for all the men to be on the look-
out and allow the fire on the right side to die out, to
keep together, and those of the headmen who had
guns should shoot if the tiger tried to break through.
As soon as the fires had died down, I told the driver
to go ahead and keep to the right side. When on an
elephant in fair ground, the object should be to get
the tiger to charge instead of letting him sneak
away, for the hunt is then ended in a short and
exciting encounter, but if once let away it may be
hours before he is found again, if he ever is at all.

“KILLING A MAN-EATER” 175

Coming opposite the tree where we had shot at
the tiger, and under a patch of heavy undergrowth,
against a large boulder, we both saw it. Seeing
the elephant it gave a coughing roar, and as it did
I let go, catching it fair in the eye. Ali had his
spear poised ready to throw, but the man-eater.
slumped down and to make sure I put another ex-
plosive bullet in its side as it lay. I called to the
Tungku we had got it. I will not try, for I could
not adequately describe the scene which followed
when the men knew their foe had been killed; shout-
ing, yelling, dancing, they went wild. Runners
started off at once racing back to the kampong to
tell the news and have the women make ready a
feast. The return to the kampong was like a royal
procession. The Tungku and I on the elephant led
the way, the men carrying the dead tiger, singing
and laughing, calling the dead animal all manner
of names. There was great feasting that night; it
was made hideous with the singing and beating of
tom-toms, and, although dead tired from lack of
rest, sleep was impossible. In the morning the
Tungku did a most astonishing thing; nothing of
the kind had ever been known to the oldest subject;
he set free five of his debt slaves.

On examination I found that the first time we
fired at her, while behind the trees, as she leapt back
from the shot Ali had fired, I had caught her in the
flank, smashing the hind leg, and with all her suf-

176 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

fering, thirst and heat, she never betrayed her cover
or uttered a sound.

She measured eight and three-quarters feet from
tip of nose to tip of tail and weighed about two
hundred and ninety pounds. She was in milk, but
though we searched, we never found her cubs.

VII
UP A TREE IN THE JUNGLE

OR fully a week after the killing of the man-
eating tiger, I devoted all my time seeing to the
making of rough transportation cages, crates of all
sizes, and small nets. One morning I told the Tung-
ku of a plan I had to get some large nets made in
a hurry. “Te-dor, bully tian” (Cannot be done,
sir), said he, shaking his head. I then explained
to him how I intended to work it. Clapping his
hands to his sides he went into a fit of laughter,
and was as pleased as a child, saying: “By tian by
(Good, sir, good).” I have stated before
that getting work out of a Malay was an
art that can only be attained by close intercourse
and complete confidence on the part of the native
and by making work seem play or a game. To stage
the affair in the best light I had the Tungku give
orders for a general assembly of the men of the
kampong, saying that the Tuan had a game he
wanted the men to enter into, and when they were
all assembled, I told them I was going to offer
prizes to the men picked out and worked as crews,
that made the best and most nets in four days,—
one day for the cutting and washing the rattan, one
177

178 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

day for the splitting and twisting the rattan into
rope, and two days for net-making, the net-making
to start on the third day at six o’clock in the morn-
ing until four o’clock in the afternoon and no work
to be done on the nets until the next morning, when
they started again at six o’clock and worked until
four. The nets were to be made ten by eight with
six-inch mesh, there would be four men to a crew, —
and three crews would go in for the prizes. Those
who wanted to enter were to step forward and the
Tungku would pick them out—no old men or boys.
They were to start the next morning, the prizes
were five dollars (Mexican) to each man of the
crew that made the best and most nets, three dollars
each to the next crew and two dollars each to the
last. As soon as the Tungku had picked them out,
each crew should choose the space they wanted to
work in and set their poles and stakes for the
twisting of the rattan and the making of the nets.
This I told them to do as it saved them a lot of time,
trouble and confusion, for then each crew would
know the space it was to work in so as not to inter-
fere and get in one another’s way. The race was
not to begin until the next morning at six o’clock,
when they were to line up at the Tungku’s house
and at the word “go” start for the jungle and cut
rattan.

Believe me, I started something! If there is one
thing a Malay loves, it is a game or race of any
kind, pitting themselves against one another; any-

UP A TREE IN THE JUNGLE 179

thing that has a flavor of sport that can be gambled
on.

Every man was eager, and the Tungku, looking
them over, picked out the men, and as each man
was chosen, the men, women and children howled
with delight, clapping hands, passing all manner. of
jokes and banter. When the men were picked out
the Tungku formed them in crews; they were a
pretty proud lot. Again warning them that they
could not start making the nets until the second
day, and that after they started in the morning to
cut the rattan, if they were caught taking help from
any of their friends, they would be thrown out of
the race, he told them to get busy and lay out their
poles and stakes. The Tungku shaking his head
and laughing, said: “Ttan bow-gar poro-day sea-
opper pe-care, e-to (Sir, you are very clever, who
would think of that).”

In the meantime the men and their friends got
to work staking out and putting up cross-sections
and poles for the twisting of rattan and the making
of the nets. Everyone in the kampong was laugh-
ing and talking over it. It was going to be great
sport and plenty of fun; each had their favorites
and were already making wagers on them. This
was not work! This. was play, sport, a game, riv-
alry, having an audience, for the whole kampong
and those from the outlying districts would be there;
men, women and children cheering and edging them
ion, not alone for the prizes but the prestige it would

180 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

give to be known as the best and fastest net-makers
in the whole of Kelantan. The tiger hunt was off,
and the net-making and round-up was on.

At daybreak the following morning, the whole
kampong gathered at the Tungku’s, and, after eat-
ing the breakfast of rice and dried fish, started off
for the jungle to cut, collect and wash the rattan.

One who has never seen rattan in its natural state
would be quite deceived by its appearance; it is not
the smooth, shining, pointed cane one sees in the
market; it grows as a vine, sometimes one hundred
feet and over, up and down trees or along the
ground, twisting in and out; it is covered by an
outer shell or skin, and at each joint a circle of
thorns an inch in length. The outer skin and thorns
are scraped away, washed and cut in lengths of
sixteen feet, one hundred lengths to a bundle, and
the rattan is ready for the market. They grow in
various thickness. The Malacca cane is the thick-
est grown.

Everybody went down to the stream where they
would strip the thorns and peel off the outer skin,
wash, split and cut in lengths; the crews kept cut-
ing like mad. I do not believe there ever was so
much rattan cut, stripped, washed and cut in lengths
in the state of Kelantan, or in any other state, in
one day as those twelve men did.

On the morning of the third day, the whole dis-
trict was in holiday attire and all on edge to see
and encourage their friends to be the first. The rat-

UP A TREE IN THE JUNGLE 181

tan was all laid out in two piles in cut lengths of
twelve and ten feet and seventy-two pegs or bamboo
stakes were driven into the ground. I myself had
measured off the ground and stakes for length and
width of nets. Twenty each, stakes for top and
bottom, and sixteen stakes each for width.

The first day was pretty nearly a tie, although
one crew had started on another net and had got
one-quarter of it finished when a halt was called for.
the day. Nine nets on the following day, the crew
that had one-quarter of a net finished the day before
finishing four nets by four o’clock; the other two
were practically tied, and as such I gave them
credit; they had three and a half nets finished, and
each of the crew received second prize money, three
dollars each. There was great satisfaction, although
the first crew with their five dollars each were strut-
ting around and talking big. After finishing the
half-made nets, I had twenty-one ten by eight rattan
nets. Great work in four days; had I gone any
other way about getting them, it would have taken
twice as long. Even with the money prizes, they
cost me on an average of only two dollars (Mexi-
can) or one dollar each.

The third day after the net-making contest, tak-
ing fifteen men and loading their nets, large and
small, on an elephant, we started off for a half day’s
journey from the kampong to set up the nets on the
ground and in the trees, also to dig pits at the water-
holes. We had been moving on slowly, the first

182 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

elephant carrying the nets, breaking a trail for
about three hours, when we heard the screaming
and chattering of monkeys. The natives first
thought the cry was “re-mow” (tiger); the men
on the first elephant halted just at reaching a break
in the jungle; they called back, all excited: “Ttan,
Bar-be. Ari-men kombing, be-prong (Sir, a fight
between a pig and a leopard).” By the time I
arrived alongside the other elephant at the clearing
both elephants were becoming restive, but were be-
ing calmed down by their drivers.

I came upon a sight I shall never forget, a full-
grown leopard and a Baba-rusa (wild boar) in a
deadly combat. I was fascinated by the sight; no
noise would have disturbed them, for what with
the snarling, screaming, grunting of the two, and
the screaming of the monkeys, it was difficult for me
to even make the men I was talking to hear. The
fight must have been going on for some time before
we got there. The pig’s jaws dripped with blood
and foam, his beady red eyes following each move
of the leopard, his flanks and back covered with
blood from the clawing and biting it had suffered,
but still strong, nimble and full of fight; the leopard’s
side and neck gashed open and blood streaming
from the wounds. One can hardly credit the quick-
ness of a wild boar; they are lightning fast on their
feet; their big head and thick hide are a match
for any tiger in a fair fight, let alone a leopard, and
although a leopard is very quick, the boar with its

UP A TREE IN THE JUNGLE 183

wicked tusks matched him in all his moves and
springs. It made no difference which way the
leopard would spring, it was always met by a rip-
ping of the tusks. It was an ideal place for an
encounter of this kind; a clear, open space, neither
having an advantage, the ground baked hard. It
gave a firm foothold to the boar as it allowed it to
turn and meet the rushes and springs of the leopard,
and as the leopard would spring the boar would dart
forward, throwing up its head at the same time, the
tusks ripping whatever they came in contact with.
‘The object of the leopard was to get a firm hold on
the back of the boar, while the boar, unmindful of
biting and clawing, was bent on getting: the leopard
down and disemboweling him. The men became
as excited as the monkeys in the trees, and it was
difficult to distinguish which were making the more
noise or were the more excited. I am positive we
looked upon the fight ten minutes, and I cannot
judge how long they were at it before we came upon
them; they were both becoming weaker from the
loss of blood.

As we watched them with bated breath, the leop-
ard kept circling around, crouching for a spring,
while the boar, never taking its small red eyes from
the leopard, with head lowered, was watching
and ready to meet the next move. Almost
too quick for the eye to follow, the leopard sprang
at the boar like lightning, the boar jumped forward
and aside and, in a flash, turned and as the leopard

184 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

struck the ground, before it could recover,
was upon it, striking it with its head and throwing,
it on its side. Standing on its adversary, with its
front feet holding it down and unmindful of the
snarling, biting and clawing, with a squealing
grunt, the boar lowered his head and with one rip-
ping thrust disemboweled the leopard.

It was done quicker than the eye could follow.
The leopard lay where it was; it attempted to rise,
but the boar, jumping and stamping upon it, it fell
back, gave one or two spasmodic efforts to rise and
turned over dead. The boar still standing over it,
squealing, its head rolling from side to side, its hind
feet sagged and, giving a squealing grunt, fell over
the leopard, dead. It was truly a battle royal. I
was thrilled. I could not move. It was the most
thrilling sight I think I ever witnessed. My admir-
ation for the boar was great; had he not died, and
had been able to move off, I would have made no
attempt to either stop or kill him. It was a mag-
nificent fight, with the boar on his feet last.

We buried the dead fighters and went on our,
way. Coming toa small stream, I decided to make
camp. We built platforms in trees for sleeping
and as a cache for stores, cutting down the sur-
rounding trees and leaving a small clearing. The
next day i had the men cut saplings and rattan
to make rough transportation cages. I wanted
everything handy so a cage could be made in a
few moments. The natives could not at first under- |

UP A TREE IN THE JUNGLE 185

stand why I went to all the trouble of having all
the wood ready for,cages and nothing to put in
them. Their idea was to get the animals first and
then cage them. I pointed out that an animal in
a net was sure to injure itself in its struggle to
escape and the sooner it was in a cage and free
from the nets, the safer it- would be, for if they
were injured in any way, they were useless. We
Stayed four days at this camp, arranging the nets
and digging a few pits after caching stores in the
trees. Before starting on the first drive I explained
to the Tungku what I considered the most difficult
problem of the expedition, namely a clear road to
the river. and to the coast, as all cages would have
to be drawn to the river on runners or sleds, and
the jungle paths would have to be cleared of fallen
trees and undergrowth. I told him he had better
send four or five men to clear and widen the path
to the next kampong and the headman there to do
the same on to the next, and so on to the river, the
headman at the river to gather bamboo and logs for
making of rafts. For the drive itself and the work
pertaining to it, fifty men would answer. We would
be away from the kampong about one week and at
the farthest one half day’s journey. Should occa-
sion arise, I would send back for bullocks to bring
in the cages. Everything being arranged to my
satisfaction as to the transportation, we started off
the next morning and arrived at the clearing where
the leopard and boar had battled, and started

186 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS J

the drive at that point. The Tungku and I rode on,
the elephant in the center, twenty-five men on each
side and an elephant at each end, headmen with
their muzzle loaders on the elephants.

At the striking of a tom-tom we all started to
move toward the camp. The men were told to
make as much noise as they wished and believe me it
was a noisy crowd. They went at it heart and
soul, not only on account of the incentive of clear-
ing out of their district a lot of destructive animals,
but the killing of the man-eating tiger and the net-
making contest, the way I had gone about things
in general had inspired them all with the utmost
confidence. They believed that no possible harm
could come to them while with me, and my slight-
est wish was carried out. The drive itself is not
dangerous as you are fairly safe in numbers.

With the men shouting, and cutting the under-
growth, and the two elephants at each end breaking
through, there was enough noise to startle and
drive any animal before it. Our work in extract-
ing whatever we caught and the putting together
of cages, would not allow those animals caught in
nets much chance to bite through or injure them-
selves as we could handle the most violent ones first.

In handling and taking from the nets the smaller
animals a thick bamboo was used hollowed through-
out, about five or six feet long, with a length of
stout rattan, the end doubled together and run
through the bamboo, leaving a loop at one end

UP A TREE IN THE JUNGLE 187

which could be slipped over the head of the animal
through the mesh, and drawn taut against the end
of the bamboo and held by two natives. Although
they would wiggle and twist and squirm, they were
helpless, and as the net would be unfurled, another
loop held by. two other natives would then be slipped
over its head and as the other loop was allowed to
come free from the bamboo, they would take the
animal which was now clear of the net and drop it
in the rough cage. With the bars fastened and the
animal safe, it was ready to be sent on to the near-
est kampong.

This method of course could only be used with
the smaller animals. The larger cat animals that
were caught in the nets, two leopards and one
clouded tiger were so entangled that we put
nets and all in the rough cages and then from
between the bars, cut enough of the mesh in the
net for the animals to free themselves. The larger
deer gave us a lot of trouble on account of getting
their horns and feet entangled through the meshes
and most had to be killed. These we fed to the cat
animals, after we had taken our fill. One tapir and
calf we got in nets, the other two in pits. The wild
boars gave us the most trouble. Whereas the tapirs
were timid, the boars were very vicious and could
only be put in cages by the same method I used
with leopards. With the tigers and leopards caught
in set traps, a transportation cage is set close
to one end of the trap with two bars raised.

188 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

A chicken or bait of some kind is placed with-
in the cage, then a couple of bars of the trap are
loosened and drawn out. If the animal refuses
to enter the cage he is prodded with poles until he
does, the bars are then slipped into their place and
the animal is secured. There is really no danger
or excitement in trapping and caging of tigers, or
any animal caught in a trap of that kind.

In all I'stayed with the Tungku nine weeks and
the round-up of animals caught by net and pit, in-
cluded ninety-two different varieties, not including
three tigers, two spotted and one black leopard—
forty-three cages and ‘sixteen crates. This only
includes those specimens in good condition. I do
not count the animals that were killed off on ac-
count of not being fit to show for zodlogical
purposes.

It was my good fortune during my stay with the
(Tungku to witness a bull fight. Under a covered
shed on a raised platform the Sultan with his Court
and guests sat, while the natives, five and six deep,
either sat on the ground or stood forming a circle
of about seventy yards in which the bulls fight.

The bulls belonged to a local breed. They are
small in size, but sturdy, well built, very quick in
movements, have a small hump on their necks, and
short sharp horns. They are trained for fighting
from early youth and out in the ring about the
age of three, but are at their best at four or five
years old. Bulls of as nearly as possible the same

UP A TREE IN THE JUNGLE 189

size and weight are generally matched to fight, and
when once the bulls have been let go, the fight con-
tinues till one turns tail and leaves the field.

Each bull has three or four men who encourage
it to greater efforts and when the fight is over lead
it away.

Sometimes one of the bulls declines to fight al-
~ together and rushes away the moment he is faced
by his adversary. The victor then performs a
strange sort of war dance alone, whirling round
and round, tossing his head, bellowing and snort-
ing and finally dashing off in pursuit of the enemy,
demoralizing and scattering the crowd of specta-
tors who fall over each other in their efforts to
get out of his dangerous path.

Usually there is a fight more or less prolonged
and when at last one bull gives way and runs for
the field, he is followed, caught and brought back
again to face his adversary. If he fights again,
well and good, but the second bout rarely lasts.
any time and the beaten bull again saves himself
by flight. That settles the matter as far as backers
are concerned and the bets are paid. It very seldom
happens that a bull is killed or even seriously in-
jured. As soon as the bulls arrive on the ground,
they are inspected at close quarters by the backers,
while the setters-on give the last touches to their
champion. They take the cover from the points
of their horns, squeeze and rub a lemon on their
nose and tongue, and tickle their back and sides.

190 TRAPPING WILD ‘ANIMALS

The bets are made and deposited with the stake-
holder. The choice of position is decided by the
drawing of one or two blades of grass held in the
umpire’s hand. The owner who draws the short
blade takes the upstream position for his bull, while
the other bull faces him from downstream. The
setters-on then bring their respective bulls closely
up to have a good look at each other, slowly pass
about ten yards apart, and then bring them face
to face. The leading ropes are suddenly cast off
and the bulls dash at each other with fury and meet
head on with a resounding thud. In a second
their horns are interlocked, each trying by every
ruse and device to drive the other back on his
haunches or throw him over by main force. A
moment later the horns are disengaged to find a
new and a better purchase, and first one and then
the other will gain a slight advantage and both bulls
move this way and that from the center to the sides.
The people of the East are seldom supposed to
give way to demonstrations expressing emotion,
but while a bull fight is on the Malays yell them-
selves hoarse with shouts of encouragement and
approval, while the setters-on half mad with excite-
ment simply dance around the bulls.

The varying tide of the battle carried the bulls
to the center of the circle, and the novice which
at first contented himself with simply resisting the
attacks of his antagonist now made his great
effort, pressing irresistibly forward, and bringing

UP A TREE IN THE JUNGLE 191

his great weight so to bear, that at last his adver-
sary was forced back a few inches. Another effort
and another, then gathering himself together, he
rushed the other back and the latter’s hind legs giv-
ing way under the pressure, he was thrown on his
side and the other was upon him, butting unmerci-
fully with his short, sharp-pointed horns. The old
bull was beaten, but gathering himself together he
recovered his legs and disappeared amidst a scene of
the wildest excitement; men shouting themselves
hoarse and otherwise expressing their delight. The
excitement did not last more than a few minutes,
then everybody quietly discussed what was held to
be a great fight. It lasted about twenty minutes.
The beaten bull was brought back again but as
he declined to face his late adversary, he was led
away, the bets were paid, and every one settled down
again to wait for the next fight.

On my return from the round-up, for several
years I did not venture into the jungle for
more than a day or two ata time. My fever and
dysentery had become chronic. I realized that I
had too often disregarded the warning of the
doctors and that, if I had another bad attack of
illness, far away from medical attention, I should
have to leave the country or might possibly die be-
fore I got way. My animal business in Singapore
had grown so large that it gave me plenty to do,
and I left to my agents the work of collecting.
Through my house in Orchard Road passed a

192 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

steady stream of animals, destined for zodlogical
gardens all over the world.

Most of the animals went to the various Austra-
lian gardens for which I acted as agent. They al-
lowed me to make my shipments f. o. b. Singapore,
relieving me of the risks of transportation. In
return, I gave them first call on all of my best speci-
mens. When their needs had been supplied I had
my choice between shipping to Hagenbeck’s agent
at Calcutta, shipping to Europe, and selling to the
crews of boats that called at Singapore. The offi-
cers and men bought many animals, sharing the
cost and eventually sharing the profits if the ani-
mals lived to reach Europe. Ariff, by crooked deal-
ing and passing off sickly animals, had almost
ruined this business, but it revived rapidly when
the word spread that I could be depended upon.
‘Ariff and I had many stormy sessions before I
convinced him that my way was the better, and he
finally came to handle a large part of the boat trade
for me, doing the work of soliciting orders and
making deliveries on commission.

I made very few sales directly to America. The
trouble and risk of the long voyage were too great,
and also there was a twenty-five per cent duty to
be paid when the animals were landed. The gamble
was large, and, even when the deliveries were
safely made, there was little profit. Some of my
animals reached America through Hagenbeck, who
kept them until they were acclimated and then

UP A TREE IN THE JUNGLE 193

shipped them across the Atlantic. The acclima-
tization and breeding of animals in captivity is a
business in itself.

Hagenbeck approached me several times with
the proposition to become his exclusive agent in
the Far East, but I preferred to have my own busi-
ness and sell independently. Both he and Cross of
Liverpool kept me busy with orders; and, with
the orders from Australia, I found that I had a
greater demand that I could meet. Almost every,
boat that came to Singapore from the districts
where animals were captured brought specimens,
and I was continually pressing my agents to send
more. I traveled constantly throughout the Archi-
pelago, urging the natives to work faster and keep-
ing in touch with the source of my supply. As I
have said before, I made few excursions into the
jungle, and then only when it was impossible for
my agents, who were generally headmen, to leave
their kampongs and come to the coast.

Trengganu, with its jungles full of animals, was
my favorite territory. I had the valuable privilege
of being practically the only white man who could
enter that country. In it I passed so much of my
time that I finally had a house built there for me.
My presence speeded the work of capturing, though
T took no part in it except to talk with the head-
men when they came to the coast. The Sultan gave
me unlimited power in handling the natives, and

194 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

no native who worked for me ever had cause to
complain.

Nor had the Sultan himself; for I often found
ways of helping him when the treasury was at low
ebb. He looked to me to bring him news of the
outside world and to interpret the news for him in
terms that were understandable. Several hours of
each day I spent at the palace, in discussing the
affairs of the country with the Sultan and his Prime
Minister, Mahommed Yusuf. Yusuf was a tunku
bésar (big prince) and was formerly the Sultan of
Lingga. He was driven from his country by the
Dutch and had sought refuge with his brother, the
Sultan of Trengganu. There he lived as an object
lesson of what might happen if Europeans were
allowed to come into the country.

It was inevitable that Trengganu should eventu-
ally be taken over by the British, but the Sultan
fought the idea at every turn. He could see in such
a possibility nothing but ruin for himself, and he
was determined to hold out as long as he lived.
In our long talks we discussed every phase of his
situation, and I pointed out to him that other sultans
had prospered under the British. He was inter-
ested in that fact and asked for more information.
Finally, it was arranged that Sir Frank Swetten-
ham, who was governor-general of the Straits Set-
tlements, should make a visit to Trengganu. That
was the entering wedge. A few years later, an
agreement was reached by which the country be-

UP A TREE IN THE JUNGLE 195

came a British protectorate and the Sultan, a pros-
perous, though nominal, ruler; and the development
of this virgin territory began.

As a reward for the advice and assistance I
gave him, the Sultan, before Trengganu passed out
of his control, made me a present of five different
concessions of land, with all mineral and ‘surface
rights. Though the concessions, which totaled nine
hundred square miles, were rich in tin, the Sultan
advised me to let the tin stay where it was and plant
-rubber. I could see that I had reached the begin-
ning of the end of my career as an animal dealer!

On my return to Singapore after one of my visits
to Trengganu, I found a letter from Mr. La Souef,
of Melbourne, asking me if I would make a special
effort to get a rhinoceros for his zodlogical gardens.
He had made the same request the year before, and
I had had a standing order with my agents in
Trengganu, but nothing had come of it. There
was constant good-natured rivalry between Mr.
La Souef and his son, who was director of the
gardens at Perth, and, as I had provided the son
with a rhinoceros, I wanted to do as much for the
father. I wrote to him, saying that I should com-
municate with my agents and that, if they had
nothing to report, I would go out myself and see
what I could find for him. Accordingly, I sent Ali
to Trengganu with the message, telling him to wait
there until I arrived.

There seemed to be so little chance that the na-

196 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

tives would capture a good specimen that, after,
attending to the business at the animal house, I
gathered my kit and started northward. At Treng-
ganu I found Ali and some of the headmen wait-
ing for me. Just as I had expected, they had
nothing to report. One of them said that he
thought I could find a rhinoceros near Rawang.

“Why do you think so?”

“Tian,” he replied, “there are traces.”

“But why haven’t your men been digging pits
and capturing it?”

He made some reply to the effect that his men
were busy planting rice, and I let the matter drop,
for I saw that he was unwilling to talk. After
the headman had left the house, I questioned Ali.
While waiting for me, Ali had drawn the headman
out on the subject. It seemed that the natives of
the headman’s kampong were reluctant to go out
hunting the rhinoceros because they had seen the
tracks, not only of the beast they were after, but
also of beasts they wanted to avoid—a pair of
seladangs.

I could understand, then, why they were not
anxious to go out rhinoceros hunting, armed with
nothing but their knives and muzzle-loading guns;
for the seladang is, to my mind, the most dangerous
animal on earth. It is the largest and fiercest of all
wild cattle; its sense of smell and its vision are
keen, and it charges with terrific speed. Except
for one baby seladang that died before it reached

UP A TREE IN THE JUNGLE 197

a menagerie, not one has ever been captured alive.
A number have been killed and mounted and are
to be found in museums,

In meeting seladangs a hunter needs all his skill
and courage. They eharge without an instant’s
warning, breaking through the jungle at incredible
speed. Unlike most animals, they do not try to
protect themselves by defensive methods, holding
the charge until they are cornered; they are in-
stantly on the defensive. The hunter becomes just
as much hunted as his quarry; each tries to attack
by surprise. It is vitally important in running
down seladangs for the hunter to keep his feet clear
of vines and creepers, so that he can be free to jump;
and also to keep his eye on a tree, which will pro-
wide refuge in case he needs it. The only possible
way for a hunter to escape the direct charge of a
seladang is to fall flat and let it run over him; its
neck is so short that, when he is prostrate, it can-
not reach him with its horns. Then, if the hoofs
have not knocked him unconscious or broken his
bones, he can jump up, before the seladang can
check itself, and run for a tree. For the man once
caught on the beast’s horns, there is no escape; it
tosses a victim time after time and then tramples
him.

I had never met a seladang—and I must admit
that I was not especially anxious to meet one—but
I had no doubt of my ability to handle it if the emer-
gency arose, and so I determined to go to Rawang

198 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

for the rhinoceros. I had confidence in my express
rifle and I knew that the natives would not refuse
to accompany me. It would be useless to force
them, of course, for they would be constantly on
the verge of a panic. I sent Ali to talk with the
headman and bring him to my house.

That afternoon a large part of the village across
the river from my house burned to the ground.
While I was sitting on my veranda, waiting for
Ali to return with the headman, I saw smoke aris-
ing from one of the houses in the Chinese section.
A moment later, flames appeared, the alarm was
given and the village was in an uproar. The flames
leaped from house to house, running down the
principal street, where all the godowns were located.
I went across the river to watch the excitement
and see what I could do to help. The natives were
wild: rushing about, falling over one another and
going crazy. I stood at one side, quite out of the
way, for a native in such a condition is a dangerous
person; the least word may send him dmok and
start him slashing with his kris. Not one native
thought about the safety of his women and children.
On the contrary, he pushed women and children
out of the way and walked on them in the excite-
ment of rescuing the one possession that a Malay
values—his kris. Men dashed into burning houses
and emerged triumphantly, scorched but waving
their krises over their heads.

One of the tunkus managed to organize in the

UP A TREE IN THE JUNGLE 199

midst of the turmoil, what passed as a water-chain.
The natives grabbed buckets and ran to the river,
returning at full speed, waving their buckets and
getting in one another’s way. I doubt if a single
bucket reached the fire with more than a cupful
of water in it. It was so funny that I had to hide
where no one could see me laughing. I heard later
that the old Sultan laughed until he was weak.

He feared only that the wind might change and
bring the fire on his palace; and he sent Mahommed
Yusuf to find me and ask my advice. Yusuf and
I decided that, if the wind showed any signs of
changing, it would be best to tear down some of the
village, to make a protecting strip. I went back
across the river to my house for dynamite to aid
in the work of demolition. However, the wind did
not change, and, in exactly a hundred minutes after
I saw the first smoke, the fire had run its course.

In that time, a hundred and twenty-five houses
had burned to the ground, but no lives had been
lost. And so it was not a serious calamity, since
house-building in that section of the country is a
simple matter. The Malays thought it a great joke
that the stores that were destroyed belonged to
the Chinese; for the Chinese were always cheating
them. By the time evening came, it was as if
the fire had been arranged to give the population
an exciting and amusing holiday.

That night, Ali, after indulging in some elo-
quence on the subject of my express rifle, brought

200 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

the headman to me. Until late, we three sat on the
veranda of my house, talking about the rhinoceros
hunt and the chances of encountering a seladang.
At last the headman said that he would think about
the matter and give me his answer the next day.

I spent the morning with the Sultan, who was
still laughing about the water-chain at the fire, and
I returned to my house early in the afternoon. The
headman and Ali were waiting for me. It was
decided without further delay that we should go
to Rawang to capture the rhinoceros.

The natives at the headman’s kampong were not
over-anxious to take part in the hunt, and we spent
several days there, waiting for them to make up
their minds. It was useless to urge them, and to
force them, as I had the power to do, would have
been out of the question. It was a matter of wait-
ing and working up their enthusiasm. Ali talked
with them, cleaning my rifle and telling them about
the “magic” I had performed. Then, after they
showed signs of being properly impressed, I took
my gun and began shooting explosive bullets into
the trunks of trees. They stood about, wide-eyed,
watching the bullets tear great holes in the trees.
One evening, two days after our arrival at the
kampong, the headman came with the word that
his men had decided that they would like to go
rhinoceros-hunting with me. “But I can take only
ten,” I replied. “I want you to come and I will let
you select nine others—your best men.’”” Now that

UP A TREE IN THE JUNGLE 201

the desire to go rhinoceros-hunting was alive in
the village, I knew that the selection of nine men
would make rivalry keen, and that those who were
selected would be proud to go.

Shortly after dawn the next morning we left the
kampong and struck out toward the spot where
the rhinoceros had been located. We kept up a
good pace during the day, following the trails
through the jungle and cutting our path. Three
days later we came upon signs of the rhinoceros
and began tracking the spoor.

At sundown, as we were approaching an open-
ing where we intended to make camp, we heard a
crash in the jungle. “Seladangs!” screamed the
‘Malays.

The men dropped everything and jumped for
the trees just as two seladangs came charging
down upon us. Ali, who was carrying my rifle
and who had become separated from me when the
men rushed for the trees, started toward me.
Gauging the distance, I saw that he could not
make it and I yelled to him to save himself. I
jumped backward and made for a tree; then, as I
pulled myself up, I saw the bull seladang catch Ali
on his horns and toss him. I dropped to the ground
again, horrified; I wanted to get my rifle and I
forgot about the other animal.

The cow seladang charged, and I barely had
time to get behind the tree. Unconsciously I had
drawn my parang, and, as the great chocolate-

202 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS H

colored beast plunged past me, I slashed. The blade
hamstrung her, and she plunged, bellowing, into
the jungle. Then the bull, instead of catching Ali’s
body on his horns, allowed it to fall to the ground
and turned toward me. I swung up into the
branches of the tree, just out of his reach, and
slashed downward as he charged. I failed to hit
him and I narrowly escaped falling.

We could hear the cow bellowing furiously and
dragging herself away through the jungle. She
did not return. The bull charged back again and
stood beneath me, pawing the ground and bel-
lowing. Then he turned and attacked Ali’s body,
trampling upon it, time after time, until every bone
was broken.

Each time the bull returned to the tree, I fired
downward at him with my revolver, but I might
just as well have used a pop-gun—the little bullets
had no effect. One dynamite cartridge would have
ended him, but my rifle lay on the ground five
yards away. Night came on, but the seladang did
not leave. I remained poised throughout the night,
waiting for a chance to jump down and run for
the rifle. Our thirst became terrible, and there was
little consolation in the thought that the seladang
was probably quite as thirsty as we were. But
there was some chance that he would leave us for
a few moments to find water, and I needed only a
moment to get the rifle and climb back into my
tree.

UP A TREE IN THE JUNGLE 203

Ants and mosquitoes swarmed over us. Trying
. to find some protection against them, we wrapped
our hands and faces in sérongs. But we were as
helpless against insects as against seladangs.

Morning came and wore away to noon, and still
the beast stayed by his post. Then the fever began
to hit me and my head throbbed. I propped my-
self up against the trunk of the tree, saving all
my strength until the moment when I should need
it most.

Ali’s body was unrecognizable; he had been
gored repeatedly in the tossing and now he was
simply a mass of torn, trampled flesh. The beast
returned to it again and again to sniff and paw,
and the sight made me weak and ill.

The ten natives were scattered through the trees
near me and we talked back and forth. They, of
course, depended upon me and my “magic” to save
them, and I, with the fever burning more fiercely
every minute, realized that something must be done
immediately. My thirst was becoming unendur-
able and my strength was leaving me rapidly. I
called to the men to join me in my tree, and they
swung from limb to limb until we were together.
The seladang took up his position beneath us,
bellowing and pawing.

I counted the arms in the party; we had, besides
our parangs, four spears and three krises. With
the parangs we cut stout branches; then we tore
our sdrongs into strips and bound the krises to

204, TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

the poles. As was usual in the Archipelago, espe-
cially in the inland districts, the spears and krises
were poisoned, and our only hope of victory lay
in that fact. I knew that the poison would kill a
man in a few minutes and I had seen smaller ani-
mals die of it, but I did not know what effect it
would have on so large and powerful a brute as a
seladang.

Next we gathered leaves and stuffed a sack, made
from a sarong, full of them, and tied it with a string,
so that we could dangle it in front of the beast.
Then three of us armed with the krises took posi-
tions so that we should be above the seladang when
he charged, and we lowered the sack. He snorted
and drew back; then he put his strength into his’
legs and lunged forward. I drove downward with
my kris, tearing a wound in his back near the hump;
he whirled and charged again, and this time one
of the natives blinded him in one eye.

He withdrew a few yards, snorting, bellowing
and pawing. He turned again on the body of poor
Ali, as if to vent his anger on it. Presently we
lured him back with the bundle of leaves, and he
charged again. I scored another cut near his hump.

This charging and jabbing went on for fully an
hour, and we seemed no nearer success than when
we started. It was impossible to get in a death-
stroke, and the poison apparently was having no
effect upon him. In any event, I thought, we were
winding him, and, if we could last out another

s oa * =

“Then three of us armed with krises took positions so that we

should be above the seladang when he charged, and we lowered
the sack, He snorted and drew back.”

UP A TREE IN THE JUNGLE 205

night, he would have to seek water. But there was
another danger—one of the natives, crazed by
thirst and excitement, might run 4mok there in
the tree. I planned, if we were forced to remain
in the tree through the night, to take charge, dip-
lomatically, of the krises and spears. I regretted
having spent all the ammunition for my revolver
on that useless fusillade the day before.

The game resolved itself into an attempt to pierce
the seladang’s sound eye; we lured him back, time
after time, but could not drive a kris to the mark.
Evening was approaching, and I thought the battle
was over for the day. The seladang stood near.
by, ignoring, for the moment, the sack we were
dangling. Blood was flowing from a dozen wounds,
When he took a step forward, we cried out in sur-
prise. He was weakening! He almost tottered
away, as if he had forgotten about us.

Even though he had routed us completely, treed
us and kept us treed and killed my good friend
and assistant, Ali, I felt sorry for the beast, as I
sat there watching him. He had put up a mag-
nificent fight, and, half dead, he would muster his
remaining strength and charge us again if we
dared set foot on the ground. It was his victory
until the moment he died.

His head drooped lower; then he went down
on his fore knees, bellowing weakly. Presently his
hind quarters slumped down, and blood began ta
flow from his mouth.

206 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS

I dropped from the tree and walked forward
cautiously to the spot where my rifle had fallen;
then, armed, I stood watching him in the throes
of death. None of the Malays had followed me,
and, when I told them to come down, they refused.
Finally, to convince them that there was no danger,
I put a 50-110 explosive bullet behind the beast’s
shoulder.

We dug a grave for Ali and buried him; then
we gathered our material and started back for
the kampong. My fever was so bad that the medi-
cine in my kit did me little good; for hours at a
time, I was unconscious and had to be carried. At
the kampong, I rested for several days, gathering
strength to make the trip to the coast. .

When I went to see the Sultan at Trengganu,
before taking the boat to Singapore, he regarded
me severely and said: “Tuan, why have I given
you big concessions in land? Is it because I want
you to go out and kill yourself in capturing ani-
mals?’ He seemed satisfied when I told him that
my days as an animal capturer were over, and that,
after a trip home, I should return to Trengganu,
to make my fortune in more peaceful ways.

At Singapore, I saw my doctor, who looked me
over and told me that any more escapades in the
jungle would be the last of me. He ordered me to
leave the country at once and I took passage on a
steamer sailing the next week.

Then I hurried off to Palembang, where I had

UP A TREE IN THE JUNGLE 207

spent my first months among the Malays. It was
Ali’s home, and I was in duty bound to take his
kris back for him. The old hadji received me af-
fectionately and heard the story of his nephew’s
death.

“He died bravely, tian?” he asked.

“Yes, and in the faith.”

The hadji nodded; that was what he wanted to
know—whether or not Ali died a good Mahom-
medan.

“On what day did he die, than?”

I could not remember what day it was, but I
knew what the old man hoped and I answered,
“Friday.”

That meant that Ali was certain of Paradise.

I said good-by to the hadji and went back to
Singapore to catch my boat. The fever was still
racking my body, but, when I saw the Red Sea
behind us once more, I knew that luck had been
with me.