Were you ever in the country
of the Hill Dyaks?"
This abrupt question rather startled me, but:
"You refer to the Borneo hill-country?"
"Precisely."
"No, I was never there."
"Then this little magical implement will be new to you," said he.
Standing up, he crossed to a cabinet littered untidily with all sorts
of strange-looking objects, carved bones, queer little inlaid boxes,
images, untidy manuscripts, and what-not.
He took up what looked like a very ungainly tobacco-pipe, made of some
rich brown wood, and, handing it to me:
"Examine this, Mr. Knox," he said, the boyish smile of triumph
returning again to his face.
I did as he requested and made no discovery of note. The thing clearly
was not intended for a pipe. The stem was soiled and, moreover, there
was carving inside the bowl. So that presently I returned it to him,
shaking my head.
"Unless one should be informed of the properties of this little
instrument," he declared, "discovery by experiment is improbable. Now,
note."
He struck the hollow of the bowl upon the palm of his hand, and it
delivered a high, bell-like note which lingered curiously.
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