When Jim eventually returned with the canoe, we made our way two or three miles upstream and then landed to reconnoitre the forest to see it if would be suitable for the shots we had in mind. We had hardly gone more than a couple of hundred yards through the trees when to our right, on the crest of a hill, there broke out a cacophony of wild cries. Although basically similar to the gibbon’s call, they were much louder and deeper and each cry ended in an odd, reverberating sound like somebody tapping on a drum with their fingertips.
‘Siamang!’ said the boatman, and Chris’s eyes gleamed fanatically. […]