He turned toward the delegation of coast natives.
"To you, Dyaks of the sea, I bring liberation from your masters who make slaves of your young men. There will be no more raids; you may grow your crops in peace."
To the scowling Malays he said:
"Merchants of Malacca, think not that my heart is bitter against you, for I bring rich gifts to you also. I bring you the gift of a happy and contented people, rich in the produce of this fertile island, eager to buy the things you bring to them in trade. Thebalasmoney which you now pay the pirates will be counted with your profits, for I will drive the pirates from these seas.
"These are my commands to all of you. Keep your houses in order. If a Dyak of the hills slay a Dyak of the sea, keep your krisses sheathed and come and tell me. If a man take a woman that is not his own, keep your krisses sheathed and come and tell me. If your neighbor arm his people and drive your people to the jungle and burn their village, come and tell me. I will do justice. Butswift and terrible will be my vengeance on him who breaks the law."
An ominous rumble of angry dissent filled the hall. It was instantly quelled. Towering over them, his powerful frame lifted to its full height, Peter Gross glared at them so fiercely that the stoutest hearts among them momentarily quailed and shrank back. Taking instant advantage of the silence, he announced sternly:
"I am now ready to hear your grievances, princes of the residency. You may speak one by one in the order of your rank."
Calmly turning his back on them, he walked back to his chair.
There was a tense silence of several minutes while Datu looked at Rajah and Rajah at Datu. Peter Gross saw the fierce sway of passions and conflicting opinions. Muller looked from face to face with an anxious frown, striving to ascertain the drift of the tide, and Van Slyck grinned saturninely.
A powerful Malay suddenly leaped to his feet, and glared defiantly at Peter Gross.
"Hear me, princes of Bulungan," he shouted. "Year after year the servants of him who rules in Batavia have come to us and said: 'Give us a tenth of your rice, of your dammar gum, give us bamboo, and rattan, and cocoanuts as tribute money and we will protect you from your enemies.' Year after year have our fields been laid waste by the Dyaks of the hills, by the Beggars of the sea, till our peopleare poor and starve in the jungles, but no help has come from the white man. Twice has my village been burned by men from the white man's ships that throw fire and iron; not once have those ships come to save me from the sea Beggars. Then one day a light came. Grogu, I said, make a peace with the great Datu of the rovers of the sea, give him a part of each harvest. Three great rains have now passed since I made that peace. He has kept my coasts free from harm, he has punished the people of the hills who stole my cattle. With whom I ask you, princes of Bulungan, shall I chew the betel of friendship?"
"Ai-yai-yai-yai," was the angry murmur that filled the hall in a rising assent.
A wizened old Malay, with a crooked back and bereft of one eye, rose and shook a spear venomously. His three remaining teeth were ebon from excessive betel-chewing.
"I had forty buffaloes," he cried in a shrill, crackly voice. "The white man in the house on the hill came and said: 'I must have ten for the balas (tribute money).' The white kris-bearer from the war-house on the hill came and said: 'I must have ten for my firestick-bearers.' The white judge came and said: 'I must have ten for a fine because your people killed a robber from the hills.' Then came the sea-rovers and said: 'Give us the last ten, but take in exchange brass gongs, and copper-money, and silks from China.' Whom must I serve, mybrothers, the thief who takes and gives or the thief who takes all and gives nothing?"
The tumult increased. A tall and dignified chief in the farther corner of the hall, who had kept aloof from the others to this time, now rose and lifted a hand for silence. The poverty of his dress and the lack of gay trappings showed that he was a hill Dyak, for no Dyak of the sea was so poor that he had only one brass ring on his arm. Yet he was a man of influence, Peter Gross observed, for every face at once turned in his direction.
"My brothers, there has been a feud between my people of the hill and your people of the coasts for many generations," he said. "Yet we are all of one father, and children in the same house. It is not for me to say to-day who is right and who is wrong. The white chief bids us give each other the sirih and betel. He tells us he will make us both rich and happy. The white chief's words are good. Let us listen and wait to see if his deeds are good."
There was a hoarse growl of disapproval. Peter Gross perceived with a sinking heart that most of those present joined in it. He looked toward Wobanguli, but that chieftain sedulously avoided his glance and seemed satisfied to let matters drift.
A young Dyak chief suddenly sprang to the middle of the floor. His trappings showed that he was of Gusti rank.
"I have heard the words of the white chief andthey are the words of a master speaking to his slaves," he shouted. "When the buck deserts his doe to run from the hunter, when the pheasant leaves the nest of eggs she has hatched to the mercy of the serpent, when the bear will no longer fight for her cubs, then will the Sadong Dyaks sit idly by while the robber despoils their villages and wait for the justice of the white man, but not before. This is my answer, white chief!"
Whipping his kris from his girdle, he hurled it at the floor in front of Peter Gross. The steel sank deeply into the wood, the handle quivering and scintillating in a shaft of sunlight that entered through a crack in the roof.
An instant hush fell on the assembly. Through the haze and murk Peter Gross saw black eyes that flamed with hate, foaming lips, and passion-distorted faces. The lust for blood was on them, a moment more and nothing could hold them back, he saw. He sprang to the center of the platform.
"Men of Bulungan, hear me," he shouted in a voice of thunder. "Your measure of wickedness is full. You have poisoned the men sent here to rule you, you have strangled your judges and thrown their bodies to the crocodiles, you have killed our soldiers with poisoned arrows. To-day I am here, the last messenger of peace the white man will send you. Accept peace now, and you will be forgiven. Refuse it, and your villages will be burned, your people will be hunted from jungle to swamp and swamp to highland, there will be no brake too thickand no cave too deep to hide them from our vengeance. The White Father will make the Dyaks of Bulungan like the people of the lands under the sea—a name only. Choose ye, what shall it be?"
For a moment his undaunted bearing and the terrible threat he had uttered daunted them. They shrank back like jackals before the lion, their voices stilled. Then a deep guttural voice, that seemed to come through the wall behind the resident's chair, cried:
"Kill him, Dyaks of Bulungan. He speaks with two tongues to make you slaves on the plantations."
Peter Gross sprang toward the wall and crashed his fist through the bamboo. A section gave way, revealing an enclosed corridor leading to another building. The corridor was empty.
The mischief had been done, however, and the courage of the natives revived. "Kill the white man, kill him," the hoarse cry arose. A dozen krisses flashed. A spear was hurled, it missed Peter Gross by a hair's breadth. Dyaks and Malays surged forward, Wobanguli alone was between him and them. Paddy Rouse sprang inside with drawn pistol, but a hand struck up his pistol arm and his harmless shot went through the roof. A half-dozen sinewy forms pinned him to the ground.
At the same instant Peter Gross drew his automatic and leaped toward Wobanguli. Before the Rajah could spring aside the resident's hand closed over his throat and the resident's pistol pressed against his head.
"One move and I shoot," Peter Gross cried.
The brown wave stopped for a moment, but it was only a moment, Peter Gross realized, for life was cheap in Borneo, even a Rajah's life. He looked wildly about—then the tumult stilled as suddenly as though every man in the hall had been simultaneously stricken with paralysis.
Gross's impressions of the next few moments were rather vague. He dimly realized that some one had come between him and the raging mob. That some one was waving the natives back. It was a woman. He intuitively sensed her identity before he perceived her face—it was Koyala.
The brown wave receded sullenly, like the North sea backing from the dikes of Holland. Peter Gross replaced his pistol in its holster and released Wobanguli—Koyala was speaking. In the morgue-like silence her silvery voice rang with startling clearness.
"Are you mad, my children of Bulungan?" she asked sorrowfully. "Have you lost your senses? Would the taking of this one white life compensate for the misery you would bring on our people?"
She paused an instant. Every eye was riveted upon her. Her own glorious orbs turned heavenward, a mystic light shone in them, and she raised her arms as if in invocation.
"Hear me, my children," she chanted in weird, Druidical tones. "Into the north flew the Argus Pheasant, into the north, through jungle and swamp and canebrake, by night and by day, for the HanuToken were her guides and the great god Djath and his servants, the spirits of the Gunong Agong called her. She passed through the country of the sea Dyaks, and she saw no peace; she passed through the country of the hill Dyaks, and she saw no peace. Up, up she went, up the mountain of the flaming fires, up to the very edge of the pit where the great god Djath lives in the flames that never die. There she saw Djath, there she heard his voice, there she received the message that he bade her bring to his children, his children of Bulungan. Here is the message, chiefs of my people, listen and obey."
Every Dyak groveled on the ground and even the Malay Mahometans crooked their knees and bowed their heads almost to the earth. Swaying from side to side, Koyala began to croon:
"Hear my words, O princes of Bulungan, hear my words I send you by the Bintang Burung. Lo, a white man has come among you, and his face is fair and his words are good and his heart feels what his lips speak. Lo, I have placed him among you to see if in truth there is goodness and honesty in the heart of a white man. If his deeds be as good as his words, then will you keep him, and guard him, and honor him, but if his heart turns false and his lips speak deceitfully, then bring him to me that he may burn in the eternal fires that dwell with me. Lo, that ye may know him, I have given him a servant whose head I have touched with fire from the smoking mountain."
At that moment Paddy, hatless and disheveled,plunged through the crowd toward Peter Gross. A ray of sunlight coming through the roof fell on his head. His auburn hair gleamed like a burst of flame. Koyala pointed at him and cried dramatically:
"See, the servant with the sacred flame."
"The sacred flame," Dyaks and Malays both muttered awesomely, as they crowded back from the platform.
"Who shall be the first to make blood-brother of this white man?" Koyala cried. The hill Dyak chieftain who had counseled peace came forward.
"Jahi of the Jahi Dyaks will," he said. Peter Gross looked at him keenly, for Jahi was reputed to be the boldest raider and head-hunter in the hills. The Dyak chief opened a vein in his arm with a dagger and gave the weapon to Peter Gross. Without hesitating, the resident did the same with his arm. The blood intermingled a moment, then they rubbed noses and each repeated the word: "Blood-brother," three times.
One by one Dyaks and Malays came forward and went through the same ceremony. A few slipped out the door without making the brotherhood covenant, Peter Gross noticed. He was too elated to pay serious attention to these; the battle was already won, he believed.
In the shadows in the rear of the hall Van Slyck whispered in the ear of a Malay chieftain. The Malay strode forward after the ceremonies were over, and said gravely:
"Blood-brother, we have made you one of us and our ruler, as the great god Djath hath commanded. But there was one condition in the god's commands. If you fail, you are to be delivered to Djath for judgment, and no evil shall come upon our people from your people for that sentence. Will you pledge us this?"
They were all looking at him, Malay, hill Dyak, and sea Dyak, and every eye said: "Pledge!" Peter Gross realized that if he would keep their confidence he must give his promise. But a glance toward Van Slyck had revealed to him the Malay's source of inspiration, and he sensed the trick that lay beneath the demand.
"Will you pledge, brother?" the Malay demanded again.
"I pledge," Peter Gross replied firmly.
"And so," Peter Gross concluded, "I pledged my life that we'd put things to rights in Bulungan."
Captain Carver did not answer. It was dim twilight of the evening following the council meeting—they were met in Peter Gross's den, and the captain had listened with an air of critical attention to the nocturnal chirping of the crickets outside. Had it not been for occasional curt, illuminative questions, Peter Gross might have thought him asleep. He was a man of silences, this Captain Carver, a man after Peter Gross's own heart.
"On the other hand they pledged that they would help me," Peter Gross resumed. "There are to be no more raids, the head-hunters will be delivered to justice, and there will be no more trading with the pirates or payment of tribute to them. Man for man, chief for chief, they pledged. I don't trust all of them. I know Wobanguli will violate his oath, for he is a treacherous scoundrel, treacherous and cunning but lacking in courage, or his nerve wouldn't have failed him yesterday. The Datu of Bandar is a bad man. I hardly expected him to take the oath, and it won't take much to persuade him to violate it. The Datu of Padang, the oldman who lost the forty buffaloes, is a venomous old rascal that we'll have to watch. Lkath of the Sadong Dyaks left while we were administering the oath; there is no blood of fealty on his forehead. But I trust the hill Dyaks, they are with me. And we have Koyala."
Another silence fell between the resident and his lieutenant. It was quite dark now and the ends of their cigars glowed ruddily. There was a tap on the door and Paddy Rouse announced himself.
"Shall I get a light, sir?" he asked.
"I don't think it is necessary, Paddy," Peter Gross replied kindly. He had conceived a great affection for the lad. He turned toward Carver.
"What do you think of the situation?" he asked pointedly.
Carver laid his cigar aside. It was not casually done, but with the deliberateness of the man who feels he has an unpleasant duty before him.
"I was trying to decide whether Koyala is an asset or a liability," he replied.
Peter Gross, too, listened for a moment to the chirping of the crickets before he answered.
"She saved my life," he said simply.
"She did," Captain Carver acknowledged. "I'm wondering why."
Peter Gross stared into the evening silence.
"I believe you misjudge her, captain," he remonstrated gently. "She hasn't had much chance in life. She's had every reason for hating us—all whites—but she has the welfare of her people atheart. She's a patriot. It's the one passion of her life, the one outlet for her starved and stunted affections. Her Dyak blood leads her to extremes. We've got to curb her savage nature as far as we can, and if she does break the bounds occasionally, overlook it. But I don't question her absolute sincerity. That is why I trust her."
"If she were all Dyak I might think as you do," Captain Carver said slowly. "But I never knew mixed blood to produce anything noble. It's the mixture of bloods in her I'm afraid of. I've seen it in the Philippines and among the Indians. It's never any good."
"There have been some notable half-breed patriots," Peter Gross remarked with a half-smile that the darkness curtained.
"Dig into their lives and you'll find that what an infatuated people dubbed patriotism was just damned meanness. Never a one of them, but was after loot, not country."
"You have old Sachsen's prejudices," Peter Gross said. "Did I tell you about the letter I got from him? I'll let you read it later, it's a shame to spoil this evening. Sachsen warns me not to trust the girl, says she's a fiend. He coupled her name with Ah Sing's." The vicious snap of the resident's teeth was distinctly audible. God, how an old man's tongue clacks to scandal. "I thought Sachsen was above it, but 'Rumor sits on the housetop,' as Virgil says...."
His voice trailed into silence and he stared acrossthe fields toward the jungle-crowned hills silhouetted against the brilliantly starlit sky.
"Sachsen is too old a man to be caught napping," Carver observed.
"There probably is some sort of an understanding between Koyala and Ah Sing," Peter Gross admitted seriously. "But it's nothing personal. She thought he could help her free Bulungan. I think I've made her see the better way—at least induced her to give us a chance to show what we can do."
"You're sure it was Ah Sing's voice you heard?"
Peter Gross perceived from the sharp acerbity of the captain's tone, as well as from the new direction he gave their conversation, Carver's lack of sympathy with his views on Koyala's conduct. He sighed and replied mildly:
"I am positive. There is no other bass in the world like his. Hoarse and deep, a sea-lion growl. If I could have forced the bamboo aside sooner, I might have seen him before he dodged out of the runway."
"If he's here we've got the whole damn' wasp's nest around our ears," Carver growled. "I wish we had thePrinshere."
"That would make things easier. But we can't tie her up in harbor, that would give the pirates free play. She's our whole navy, with nearly eight hundred miles of coastline to patrol."
"And we're here with twenty-five men," Carver said bitterly. "It would be damned farcical if it wasn't so serious."
"We are not here to use a mailed fist," Peter Gross remonstrated mildly.
"I understand. All the same—" Carver stopped abruptly and stared into the silence. Peter Gross made no comment. Their views were irreconcilable, he saw. It was inevitable that Carver should undervalue moral suasion; a military man, he recognized only the arbitrament of brute force. The captain was speaking again.
"When do you begin the census?"
"Next Monday. I shall see Muller to-morrow. It will take at least two months, possibly three; they're very easy-going here. I'd like to finish it before harvest, so as to be able to check up the tax."
"You're going to trust it to Muller?"
The question implied doubt of his judgment. Peter Gross perceived Carver was averse to letting either Muller or Van Slyck participate in the new administration outside their regular duties.
"I think it is best," the resident replied quietly. "I don't want him condemned on his past record, regardless of the evidence we may get against him. He shall have his chance—if he proves disloyal he will convict himself."
"How about Van Slyck?"
"He shall have his chance, too."
"You can't give the other man all the cards and win."
"We'll deal fairly. The odds aren't quite so big as you think—we'll have Koyala and the hill Dyaks with us."
"H'mm. Jahi comes to-morrow afternoon, you say?"
"Yes. I shall appoint him Rajah over all the hill people."
Carver picked up his cigar and puffed in silence for several moments.
"If you could only trust the brutes," he exploded suddenly. "Damn it, Mr. Gross, I wish I had your confidence, but I haven't. I can't help remember some of the things that happened back in Luzon a few years ago—and the Tagalogs aren't far distant relatives of these cusses. 'Civilize 'em with a Krag,' the infantry used to sing. It's damn' near the truth."
"In the heart of every man there's something that responds to simple justice and fair dealing—What's that?"
A soft thud on the wall behind them provoked the exclamation. Carver sprang to his feet, tore the cigar from Peter Gross's mouth, and hurled it at the fireplace with his own. Almost simultaneously he snapped the heavy blinds together. The next moment a soft tap sounded on the shutters.
Peter Gross lit a match and stepped to the wall. A tiny arrow, tipped with a jade point, and tufted with feathers, quivered in the plaster. Carver pulled it out and looked at the discolored point critically.
"Poisoned!" he exclaimed. He gave it to the resident, remarking ironically:
"With the compliments of the Argus Pheasant, Mr. Gross."
With pen poised, Peter Gross sat at his desk in the residency building and stared thoughtfully at the blank sheets of stationery before him. He was preparing a letter to Captain Rouse, to assure that worthy that all was going well, that Paddy was in the best of health and proving his value in no uncertain way, and to give a pen picture of the situation. He began:
Dear Captain:Doubtless you have heard from Paddy before this, but I want to add my assurance to his that he is in the best of health and is heartily enjoying himself. He has already proven his value to me, and I am thanking my lucky stars that you let me have him.We have been in Bulungan for nearly a month, and so far all is well. The work is going on, slowly, to be sure, but successfully, I hope. I can already see what I think are the first fruits of my policies.The natives are not very cordial as yet, but I have made some valuable friends among them. The decisions I have been called upon to make seem to have given general satisfaction, in most instances. I have twice been obliged to set aside the judgments ofcontrolleurs, whose rulings appeared unjust to me, and in both cases my decision was in favor of the poorer litigant. This has displeased some of theorang kayas, or rich men, of the villages, but it has strengthened me with the tribesmen, I believe.
Dear Captain:
Doubtless you have heard from Paddy before this, but I want to add my assurance to his that he is in the best of health and is heartily enjoying himself. He has already proven his value to me, and I am thanking my lucky stars that you let me have him.
We have been in Bulungan for nearly a month, and so far all is well. The work is going on, slowly, to be sure, but successfully, I hope. I can already see what I think are the first fruits of my policies.
The natives are not very cordial as yet, but I have made some valuable friends among them. The decisions I have been called upon to make seem to have given general satisfaction, in most instances. I have twice been obliged to set aside the judgments ofcontrolleurs, whose rulings appeared unjust to me, and in both cases my decision was in favor of the poorer litigant. This has displeased some of theorang kayas, or rich men, of the villages, but it has strengthened me with the tribesmen, I believe.
He described the council and the result, and continued:
I am now having a census taken of each district in the residency. I have made thecontrolleurin each district responsible for the accuracy of the census in his territory, and have made Mynheer Muller, the acting-resident prior to my coming, chief of the census bureau. He opposed the count at first, but has come round to my way of thinking, and is prosecuting the work diligently. The chief difficulty is the natives—some one has been stirring them up—but I have high hopes of knowing, before the next harvest, how many people there are in each village and what proportion of the tax each chief should be required to bring. The taxation system has been one of the worst evils in Bulungan in the past; the poor have been oppressed, and all the tax-gatherers have enriched themselves, but I expect to end this....I had a peculiar request made of me the other day. Captain Van Slyck asked that Captain Carver and his company be quartered away from Bulungan. The presence of Carver's irregulars was provoking jealousies among his troops, he said, and was making it difficult to maintain discipline. There is reason in his request, yet I hesitate to grant it. Captain Van Slyck has not been very friendly toward me, and a mutiny in the garrison would greatly discredit my administration. I have not yet given him my answer....Inchi tells me there is a persistent rumor in the town that the great Datu, the chief of all the pirates, is in Bulungan. I would have believed his story the day after the council, for I thought I recognized his voice there; but I must have been mistaken. Captain Enckel, of thePrins Lodewyk, who was here a week ago, brings me positive assurance that the man is at Batavia. He saw him there himself, he says. It cannot be that my enemy has a double; nature never cast two men in that mold in one generation. Since Inchi cannot produce any one who will swear positively that he has seen the Datu, I am satisfied that the report is unfounded. Maybe you can find out something.
I am now having a census taken of each district in the residency. I have made thecontrolleurin each district responsible for the accuracy of the census in his territory, and have made Mynheer Muller, the acting-resident prior to my coming, chief of the census bureau. He opposed the count at first, but has come round to my way of thinking, and is prosecuting the work diligently. The chief difficulty is the natives—some one has been stirring them up—but I have high hopes of knowing, before the next harvest, how many people there are in each village and what proportion of the tax each chief should be required to bring. The taxation system has been one of the worst evils in Bulungan in the past; the poor have been oppressed, and all the tax-gatherers have enriched themselves, but I expect to end this....
I had a peculiar request made of me the other day. Captain Van Slyck asked that Captain Carver and his company be quartered away from Bulungan. The presence of Carver's irregulars was provoking jealousies among his troops, he said, and was making it difficult to maintain discipline. There is reason in his request, yet I hesitate to grant it. Captain Van Slyck has not been very friendly toward me, and a mutiny in the garrison would greatly discredit my administration. I have not yet given him my answer....
Inchi tells me there is a persistent rumor in the town that the great Datu, the chief of all the pirates, is in Bulungan. I would have believed his story the day after the council, for I thought I recognized his voice there; but I must have been mistaken. Captain Enckel, of thePrins Lodewyk, who was here a week ago, brings me positive assurance that the man is at Batavia. He saw him there himself, he says. It cannot be that my enemy has a double; nature never cast two men in that mold in one generation. Since Inchi cannot produce any one who will swear positively that he has seen the Datu, I am satisfied that the report is unfounded. Maybe you can find out something.
As Peter Gross was affixing the required stamp, the door opened and Paddy Rouse entered.
"The baby doll is here and wants to see you," Paddy announced.
"Who?" Peter Gross asked, mystified.
"The yellow kid; old man Muller's chocolate darling," Paddy elucidated.
Peter Gross looked at him in stern reproof.
"Let the Juffrouw Koyala be the Juffrouw Koyala to you hereafter," he commanded harshly.
"Yes, sir." Paddy erased the grin from his lips but not from his eyes. "Shall I ask the lady to come in?"
"You may request her to enter," Peter Gross said. "And, Paddy—"
"Yes, sir."
"—leave the door open."
"Yes, sir."
The red head bobbed to hide another grin.
Koyala glided in softly as a kitten. She was dressed as usual in the Malay-Javanese costume of kabaya and sarong. Peter Gross could not help noticing the almost mannish length of her stride and the haughty, arrogant tilt of her head.
"Unconquerable as the sea," he mused. "And apt to be as tempestuous. She's well named—the Argus Pheasant."
He placed a chair for her. This time she did not hesitate to accept it. As she seated herself she crossed her ankles in girlish unconsciousness. Peter Gross could not help noticing how slim and perfectlyshaped those ankles were, and how delicately her exquisitely formed feet tapered in the soft, doe-skin sandals.
"Well,juffrouw, which of mycontrolleursis in mischief now?" he asked in mock resignation.
Koyala flashed him a quick smile, a swift, dangerous, alluring smile.
"Am I always complaining,mynheer?" she asked.
Peter Gross leaned back comfortably. He was smiling, too, a smile of masculine contentment. "No, not always,juffrouw," he conceded. "But you kept me pretty busy at first."
"It was necessary,mynheer."
Peter Gross nodded assent. "To be sure,juffrouw, you did have reason to complain," he agreed gravely. "Things were pretty bad, even worse than I had expected to find them. But we are gradually improving conditions. I believe that my officers now know what is expected of them."
He glanced at her reprovingly. "You haven't been here much this week; this is only the second time."
A mysterious light flashed in Koyala's eyes, but Peter Gross was too intent on admiring her splendid physical sufficiency to notice it.
"You are very busy, Mynheer Resident," Koyala purred. "I take too much of your time as it is with my trifling complaints."
"Not at all, not at all," Peter Gross negatived vigorously. "The more you come, the better I am pleased." Koyala flashed a swift glance at him."Come every day if you can. You are my interpreter, the only voice by which I can speak to the people of Bulungan and be heard. I want you to know what we are doing and why we are doing it; there is nothing secret here that you should not know."
He leaned forward earnestly.
"We must work out the salvation of Bulungan together,juffrouw. I am relying very much upon you. I cannot do it alone; your people will not believe in me. Unless you speak for me there will be misunderstandings, maybe bloodshed."
Koyala's eyes lowered before his beseeching gaze and the earnestness of his plea.
"You are very kind,mynheer," she said softly. "But you overestimate my powers. I am only a woman—it is the Rajahs who rule."
"One word from Koyala has more force in Bulungan than the mandate of the great council itself," Peter Gross contradicted. "If you are with me, if you speak for me, the people are mine, and all the Rajahs, Gustis, and Datus in the residency could not do me harm."
He smiled frankly.
"I want to be honest with you,juffrouw. I am thoroughly selfish in asking these things. I want to be known as the man who redeemed Bulungan, even though the real work is yours."
Koyala's face was hidden. Peter Gross saw that her lips pressed together tightly and that she was undergoing some powerful emotion. He lookedat her anxiously, fearful that he had spoken too early, that she was not yet ready to commit herself utterly to his cause.
"I came to see you,mynheer, about an affair that happened in the country of the Sadong Dyaks," Koyala announced quietly.
Peter Gross drew back. Koyala's reply showed that she was not yet ready to join him, he perceived. Swallowing his disappointment, he asked in mock dismay:
"Another complaint,juffrouw?"
"One of Lkath's own people, a Sadong Dyak, was killed by a poisoned arrow," Koyala stated. "The arrow is tufted with heron's feathers; Jahi's people use those on their arrows. Lkath has heard that the head of his tribesman now hangs in front of Jahi's hut."
The smile that had been on Peter Gross's lips died instantly. His face became drawn and hard.
"I cannot believe it!" he exclaimed at length in a low voice. "Jahi has sworn brotherhood with me and sworn to keep the peace. We rubbed noses and anointed each others' foreheads with the blood of a fresh-killed buffalo."
"If you choose the hill people for your brothers, the sea people will not accept you," Koyala said coldly.
"I choose no nation and have no favorites," Peter Gross replied sternly. "I have only one desire—to deal absolute and impartial justice to all. Let me think."
He bowed his head in his hands and closed his eyes in thought. Koyala watched him like a tigress in the bush.
"Who found the body of the slain man?" he asked suddenly, looking up again.
"Lkath himself, and some of his people," Koyala replied.
"Do the Sadong Dyaks use the sumpitan?"
"The Dyaks of the sea do not fight their enemies with poison," Koyala said scornfully. "Only the hill Dyaks do that."
"H-m! Where was the body? How far from the stream?"
"It was by a water-hole."
"How far from Lkath's village?"
"About five hours' journey. The man was hunting."
"Was he alone? Were there any of Lkath's people with him?"
"One. His next younger brother. They became separated in the baba, and he returned home alone. It was he who found the body, he and Lkath."
"Ah!" Peter Gross exclaimed involuntarily. "Then, according to Dyak custom, he will have to marry his brother's wife. Are there any children?"
"One," Koyala answered. "They were married a few moons over a year ago." Pensively she added, in a woman's afterthought: "The woman grieves for her husband and cannot be consoled. She is very beautiful, the most beautiful woman of her village."
"I believe that I will go to Sadong myself," Peter Gross said suddenly. "This case needs investigating."
"It is all I ask," Koyala said. Her voice had the soft, purring quality in it again, and she lowered her head in the mute Malay obeisance. The action hid the tiny flicker of triumph in her eyes.
"I will go to-morrow," Peter Gross said. "I can get a proa at Bulungan."
"You will take your people with you?"
"No, I will go alone."
It seemed to Peter Gross that Koyala's face showed a trace of disappointment.
"You should not do that," she reproved. "Lkath is not friendly to you. He will not welcome a blood-warrior of Jahi since this has happened."
"In a matter like this, one or two is always better than a company," Peter Gross dissented. "Yet I wish you could be there. I cannot offer you a place in my proa—there will be no room for a woman—but if you can find any other means of conveyance, the state will pay." He looked at her wistfully.
Koyala laughed. "The Argus Pheasant will fly to Sadong faster than your proa," she said. She rose. As her glance roved over the desk she caught sight of the letter Peter Gross had just finished writing.
"Oh, you have been writing to your sweetheart," she exclaimed. Chaffingly as the words werespoken, Peter Gross felt a little of the burning curiosity that lay back of them.
"It is a letter to a sea-captain at Batavia whom I once served under," he replied quietly. "I told him about my work in Bulungan. Would you care to read it?"
He offered her the envelope. Quivering with an eagerness she could not restrain, Koyala half reached for it, then jerked back her hand. Her face flamed scarlet and she leaped back as though the paper was death to touch. With a choking cry she exclaimed:
"I do not want to read your letters. I will see you in Sadong—" She bolted through the door.
Peter Gross stared in undisguised bewilderment after her. It was several minutes before he recovered and placed the letter back in the mailing receptacle.
"I never will be able to understand women," he said sadly, shaking his head.
The house of Lkath, chief of the Sadong Dyaks, stood on a rocky eminence at the head of Sabu bay. The bay is a narrow arm of the Celebes Sea, whose entrance is cunningly concealed by a series of projecting headlands and jealously guarded by a triple row of saw-tooth rocks whose serrated edges, pointed seaward, threaten mischief to any ship that dares attempt the channel.
Huge breakers, urged on by the southeast monsoon, boil over these rocks from one year's end to the next. The headlands drip with the unceasing spray, and at their feet are twin whirlpools that go down to the very bowels of the earth, according to tradition, and wash the feet of Sangjang, ruler of Hades, himself. Certain it is that nothing ever cast into the whirlpools has returned; certain it is, too, say the people of Bulungan, that the Sang-sangs, good spirits, have never brought back any word of the souls of men lost in the foaming waters.
In their rocky citadel and rock-guarded harbor the Sadong people have for years laughed at their enemies, and combed the seas, taking by force when they could, and taking in trade when those they dealt with were too strong for them. None have such swift proas as they, and none can followthem into their lair, for only the Sadong pilots know the intricacies of that channel. Vengeful captains who had permitted their eagerness to outrun discretion found their ships in the maelstrom and rent by the rocks before they realized it, while the Sadongers in the still, landlocked waters beyond, mocked them as they sank to their death.
Two days after Koyala had reported the murder of the Sadonger to Peter Gross a swift proa approached the harbor. Even an uncritical observer would have noticed something peculiar in its movements, for it cut the water with the speed of a launch, although its bamboo sails were furled on the maze of yards that cluttered the triangle mast. As it neared the channel its speed was reduced, and the chug-chug of a powerful gasoline motor became distinctly audible. The sentinel on the promontory gesticulated wildly to the sentinels farther inland, for he had distinguished his chief, Lkath, at the wheel.
Under Lkath's trained hand the proa skipped through the intricate channel without scraping a rock and shot the length of the harbor. With shouts of "salaamat" (welcome) the happy Sadongers trooped to the water-front to greet their chief. Lkath's own body-guard, fifty men dressed in purple, red, and green chawats and head-dresses and carrying beribboned spears, trotted down from the citadel and cleared a space for the voyagers to disembark from the sampans that had put out for them.
As the royal sampan grounded, Lkath, with a great show of ceremony, assisted out of the craft a short, heavy-jowled Chinaman with a face like a Hindoo Buddha's. A low whisper of awe ran through, the crowd—this was the great Datu himself. The multitude sank to its knees, and each man vigorously pounded his head on the ground.
The next passenger to leave the sampan was the Rajah Wobanguli, tall, a trifle stoop-shouldered, and leering craftily at the motley throng, the cluster of houses, and the fortifications. A step behind him Captain Van Slyck, dapper and politely disdainful as always, sauntered along the beach and took his place in one of the dos-à-dos that had hastened forward at a signal from Lkath. The vehicles rumbled up the hill.
When they neared the temple that stood close to Lkath's house at the very summit of the hill an old man, dressed in long robes, stepped into the center of the band and lifted his hand. The procession halted.
"What is it, voice of Djath?" Lkath asked respectfully.
"Thebilianis here and awaits your presence," the priest announced.
Lkath stifled an exclamation of surprise.
"Koyala is here," he said to his guests. Ah Sing's face was expressionless. Wobanguli, the crafty, smiled non-committally. Van Slyck alone echoed Lkath's astonishment.
"A hundred miles over jungle trails in less thantwo days," he remarked, with a low whistle. "How the devil did she do it?"
There was no doubting the priest's words, however, for as they entered the temple Koyala herself came to meet them.
"Come this way," she said authoritatively, and led them into a side-chamber reserved for the priests. The room was imperfectly lit by a single window in the thick rock walls. A heavy, oiled Chinese paper served as a substitute for glass.
"He will be here to-morrow," she announced. "What are you going to do with him?"
There was no need for her to mention a name, all knew whom she referred to. A silence came upon them. Van Slyck, Wobanguli, and Lkath, with the instinct of lesser men who know their master, looked at Ah Sing. The Chinaman's eyes slumbered between his heavy lids.
"What are you going to do with him, Datu?" Koyala demanded, addressing Ah Sing directly.
"The Princess Koyala is our ally and friend," he replied gutturally.
"Your ally waits to hear the decision of the council," Koyala retorted coldly.
Wobanguli interposed. "There are things,bilian, that are not fitting for the ear of a woman," he murmured suavely, with a sidelong glance at Ah Sing.
"I am a warrior, Rajah, as well as a woman, with the same rights in the council that you have," Koyala reminded.
Wobanguli smiled his pleasantest. "True, my daughter," he agreed diplomatically. "But he is not yet ours. When we have snared the bird it is time enough to talk of how it shall be cooked."
"You told me at Bulungan that this would be decided on shipboard," Koyala replied sharply. A tempest began to kindle in her face. "Am I to be used as a decoy and denied a voice on what shall be done with my prisoner?"
"We haven't decided—" Van Slyck began.
"That is false!"
Van Slyck reddened with anger and raised his hand as though to strike her. Koyala's face was a dusky gray in its pallor and her eyes blazed with contempt.
"Peace!" Ah Sing rumbled sternly. "He is my prisoner. I marked him for mine before he was named resident."
"You are mistaken, Datu," Koyala said significantly. "He is my prisoner. He comes here upon my invitation. He comes here under my protection. He is my guest and no hostile hand shall touch him while he is here."
Ah Sing's brow ridged with anger. He was not accustomed to being crossed. "He is mine, I tell you, woman," he snarled. "His name is written in my book, and his nails shall rest in my cabinet."
The Dyak blood mounted to Koyala's face.
"He is not yours; he is mine!" she cried. "He was mine long before you marked him yours, Datu."
Wobanguli hastened to avoid a rupture. "If it is a question of who claimed him first, we can lay it before the council," he suggested.
"The council has nothing to do with it," Koyala retorted. There was a dangerous gleam in her eyes. "I marked him as mine more than a year ago, when he was still a humble sailor with no thought of becoming resident. His ship came to the mouth of the Abbas River, to Wolang's village, and traded for rattan with Wolang. I saw him then, and swore that one day he would be mine."
"You desire him?" Ah Sing bellowed. The great purple veins stood out on his forehead, and his features were distorted with malignancy.
Koyala threw back her head haughtily.
"If I do, who is going to deny me?"
Ah Sing choked in inarticulate fury. His face was black with rage.
"I will, woman!" he bawled. "You are mine—Ah Sing's—"
He leaped toward her and buried his long fingers, with their sharp nails, in the soft flesh of her arm. Koyala winced with pain; then outraged virginity flooded to her face in a crimson tide. Tearing herself away, she struck him a stinging blow in the face. He staggered back. Van Slyck leaped toward her, but she was quicker than he and backed against the wall. Her hand darted inside her kabaya and she drew a small, silver-handled dagger. Van Slyck stopped in his tracks.
Ah Sing recovered himself and slowly smoothedhis rumpled garments. He did not even look at Koyala.
"Let us go," he said thickly.
Koyala sprang to the door. She was panting heavily.
"You shall not go until you pledge me that he is mine!" she cried.
Ah Sing looked at her unblinkingly. The deadly malignancy of his face caused even Van Slyck to shiver.
"You may have your lover, woman," he said in a low voice.
Koyala stared at him as though turned to stone. Suddenly her cheeks, her forehead, her throat even, blazed scarlet. She flung her weapon aside; it clattered harmlessly on the bamboo matting. Tears started in her eyes. Burying her face in her arms, she sobbed unrestrainedly.
They stared at her in astonishment. After a sidelong glance at Ah Sing, Wobanguli placed a caressing hand on her arm.
"Bilian, my daughter—" he began.
Koyala flung his arm aside and lifted her tear-stained face with a passionate gesture.
"Is this my reward?" she cried. "Is this the return I get for all I have done to drive theorang blandaout of Bulungan? My lover? When no lips of man have ever touched mine, shall ever touch mine—" She stamped her foot in fury. "Fools! Fools! Can't you see why I want him? He laughed at me—there by the Abbas River—laughedat my disgrace—yea, I know he was laughing, though he hid his smile with the cunning of theorang blanda. I swore then that he would be mine—that some day he should kneel before me, and beg for these arms around his, and my kiss on his lips. Then I would sink a dagger into his heart as I bent to kiss him—let him drink the deep sleep that has no ending outside of Sangjang."
Her fingers clenched spasmodically, as though she already felt the hilt of the fatal blade between them.
Van Slyck drew a deep breath. The depth of her savage, elemental passion dazed him. She looked from man to man, and as he felt her eyes upon him he involuntarily stepped back a pace, shuddering. The doubt he had of her a few moments before vanished; he did not question but what he had glimpsed into her naked soul. Lkath and Wobanguli were convinced, too, for fear and awe of this wonderful woman were expressed on their faces. Ah Sing alone scanned her face distrustfully.
"Why should I trust you?" he snarled.
Koyala started, then shrugged her shoulders indifferently and flung the door open for them to pass out. As Ah Sing passed her he halted a moment and said significantly:
"I give you his life to-day. But remember, Bintang Burung, there is one more powerful than all the princes of Bulungan."
"The god Djath is greater than all princes and Datus," Koyala replied quietly. "I am his priestess.Answer, Lkath, whose voice is heard before yours in Sadong?"
Lkath bowed low, almost to the ground.
"Djath rules us all," he acknowledged.
"You see," Koyala said to Ah Sing, "even your life is mine."
Something like fear came into the eyes of the Chinaman for the first time.
"I go back to Bulungan," he announced thickly.
The afternoon sun was waning when Peter Gross's sailing proa arrived at Sadong. The resident had been fortunate in finding a Sadonger at Bulungan, and a liberal promise of brass bracelets and a bolt of cloth persuaded the rover to pilot them into Sadong harbor. Paddy Rouse accompanied his chief.
A vociferous crowd of Dyaks hastened to the beach under the misapprehension that the proa was a trader. When shouts from the crew apprised them that theorang blandachief was aboard, their cries of welcome died away. Glances of curious and friendly interest changed to glances of hostility, and men on the edges of the crowd slunk away to carry the news through the village. The inhospitable reception depressed Peter Gross, but he resolutely stepped into one of the sampans that had put off from shore at the proa's arrival and was paddled to the beach.
"We must be awfully popular here," Paddy remarked cheerfully, and he looked unabashed into the scowling faces of the natives. He lifted his hat. Rays from the low-hanging sun shone through his ruddy, tousled hair, making it gleam like livingflame. A murmur of surprise ran through the crowd. Several Dyaks dropped to their knees.
"They're beginning to find their prayer-bones, Mr. Gross," Paddy pointed out, blissfully unconscious that it was he who had inspired their reverence.
At that moment Peter Gross saw a familiar girlish figure stride lightly down the lane. His face brightened.
"Good-afternoon,juffrouw!" he exclaimed delightedly as she approached. "How did you get here so soon?"
He offered his hand, and after a moment's hesitation Koyala permitted his friendly clasp to encircle the tips of her fingers.
"Lkath has a house ready for you," she said. "The dos-à-dos will be here in a moment." They chatted while the natives gaped until the jiggly, two-wheeled carts clattered toward them.
Lkath received them at the door of his house. Peter Gross needed only a glance into his face to see that Koyala had not been mistaken in her warning. Lkath entertained no friendly feeling toward him.
"Welcome to the falcon's nest," Lkath said.
The words were spoken with a stately courtesy in which no cordiality mingled. Dyak tradition forbade closing a door to a guest, however unwelcome the guest might be.
Seized with a sudden admiration of his host, who could swallow his prejudices to maintain the traditional hospitality of his race, Peter Gross resolved to win his friendship at all costs. It was his newborn admiration that inspired him to reply:
"Your house is well named, Gusti. None but eagles would dare roost above the gate to Sangjang."
Lkath's stern features relaxed with a gratified smile, showing that the compliment had pleased him. There was more warmth in his voice as he said:
"My poor house and all that is in it is yours, Mynheer Resident."
"There is no door in Borneo more open than Lkath's," Peter responded. "I am happy to be here with you, brother."
The words were the signal, according to Dyak custom, for Lkath to step forward and rub noses. But the chief drew back.
"The blood of one of my people is between us, Mynheer Resident," he said bluntly. "There can be no talk of brother until the Sadong Dyaks are avenged."
"Am I not here to do justice?" Peter Gross asked. "To-morrow, when the sun is an hour high, we will have a council. Bring your people who know of this thing before me at that time."
Lkath bowed and said: "Very good, Mynheer Resident."
Having performed his duty as head of his nation, Lkath the chief became Lkath the host, and ushered Peter Gross, Rouse, and Koyala into the house. Peter Gross was surprised to find the dwelling fittedout with such European conveniences as chandelier oil-lamps, chairs, and tables, and even a reed organ. Boys dressed in white appeared with basins of water and napkins on silver salvers for ablutions. The dinner was all that an epicure could desire. Madeira and bitters were first offered, together with a well-spiced vegetable soup. Several dishes of fowls and other edible birds, cooked in various ways, followed. Then a roast pig, emitting a most savory odor, was brought in, a fricassée of bats, rice, potatoes, and other vegetables, stewed durian, and, lastly, various native fruits and nuts. Gin, punch, and a native beer were served between courses.
Lkath's formal dignity mellowed under the influence of food and wine, and he became more loquacious. By indirect reference Peter Gross obtained, piece by piece, a coherent account of the hunting trip on which the Sadonger had lost his life. It confirmed his suspicion that the brother knew far more about the murder than he had admitted, but he kept his own counsel.
The next morning the elders assembled in thebalais, or assembly-hall. Peter Gross listened to the testimony offered. He said little, and the only man he questioned was the Sadonger's brother, Lkath's chief witness.
"How did they know it was Jahi who was responsible?" he asked the Sadongers who had accompanied Lkath on the search. "They broke into voluble protestations. Did they use the sumpitan? Was it not exclusively a weapon of the hill Dyaks?Did not the feathers on the arrow show that it came from Jahi's tribe? And did they not find a strip of red calico from a hillman's chawat in the bush?"
Peter Gross did not answer their questions. "Show me where the body was found," he directed.
Paddy Rouse, usually bold to temerariousness, protested in dismay, pointing out the danger in venturing into the jungle with savages so avowedly unfriendly.
"There is no middle course for those who venture into the lion's den," Peter Gross replied. "We will be in no greater danger in the jungle than here, and I may be able to solve the mystery and do our cause some good."
"I'm with you wherever you go," Paddy said loyally.
Lkath led the expedition in person. To Peter Gross's great relief, Koyala went also. The journey took nearly five hours, for the road was very rugged and there were many détours on account of swamps, fallen trees, and impenetrable thickets. Koyala rode next to Peter Gross all the way. He instinctively felt that she did so purposely to protect him from possible treachery. It increased his sense of obligation toward her. At the same time he realized keenly his own inability to make an adequate recompense. Old Sachsen's words, "If you can induce her to trust us, half your work is done," came to him with redoubled force.
They talked of Bulungan, its sorry history, itspossibilities for development. Koyala's eyes glowed with a strange light, and she spoke with an ardency that surprised the resident.
"How she loves her country!" he thought.
They were riding single file along a narrow jungle-path when Koyala's horse stumbled over a hidden creeper. She was not watching the path at the moment, and would have fallen had not Peter Gross spurred his animal alongside and caught her. Her upturned face looked into his as his arm circled about her and held her tightly. There was a furious rush of blood to her cheeks; then she swung back into the saddle lightly as a feather and spurred her horse ahead. A silence came between them, and when the path widened and he was able to ride beside her again, he saw that her eyes were red.
"These roads are very dusty," he remarked, wiping a splinter of fine shale from his own eyes.
When they reached the scene of the murder Peter Gross carefully studied the lay of the land. Lkath and the dead man's brother, upon request, showed him where the red calico was found, and how the body lay by the water-hole. Standing in the bush where the red calico strip had been discovered, Peter Gross looked across the seven or eight rods to the water-hole and shook his head.
"There is some mistake," he said. "No man can blow an arrow that far."
Lkath's face flashed with anger. "When I was a boy, Mynheer Resident, I learned to shoot the sumpitan," he said. "Let me show you how a Dyakcan shoot." He took the sumpitan which they had taken with them at Peter Gross's request, placed an arrow in the orifice, distended his cheeks, and blew. The shaft went across the water-hole.
"A wonderful shot!" Peter Gross exclaimed in pretended amazement. "There is none other can shoot like Lkath."
Several Sadongers offered to show what they could do. None of the shafts went quite so far as their chief's. Taking the weapon from them, Peter Gross offered it to the dead Sadonger's brother.
"Let us see how far you can shoot," he said pleasantly.
The man shrank back. Peter Gross noticed his quick start of fear. "I cannot shoot," he protested.
"Try," Peter Gross insisted firmly, forcing the sumpitan into his hand. The Sadonger lifted it to his lips with trembling hands, the weapon shaking so that careful aim was impossible. He closed his eyes, took a quick half-breath, and blew. The arrow went little more than half the distance to the water-hole.
"You did not blow hard enough," Peter Gross said. "Try once more." But the Sadonger, shaking his head, retreated among his companions, and the resident did not press the point. He turned to Lkath.
"It is time to start, if we are to be back in Sadong beforemalam" (night) "casts its mantle over the earth," he said. Well content with the showing he had made, Lkath agreed.
They were passing the temple; it was an hour before sundown when Peter Gross said suddenly:
"Let us speak with Djath on this matter." He singled out Koyala, Lkath, and the Sadonger's brother, inviting them to enter the temple with him. A dusky pallor came over the Sadonger's face, but he followed the others into the enclosure.
"The great god Djath is not my god," Peter Gross said, when they had entered the silent hall and stood between the rows of grinning idols. "Yet I have heard that he is a god who loves the truth and hates falsehood. It seems good to me, therefore, that the Bintang Burung call down Djath's curse on this slayer of one of your people. Then, when the curse falls, we may know without doubt who the guilty one is. Is it good, Lkath?"
The chief, although plainly amazed at hearing such a suggestion from a white man, was impressed with the idea.
"It is good," he assented heartily.
Peter Gross looked at Koyala. She was staring at him with a puzzled frown, as if striving to fathom his purpose.
"Invoke us a curse, O Bintang Burung, on the slayer," he asked. "Speak your bitterest curse. Give him to the Budjang Brani, to the eternal fires at the base of the Gunong Agong."
Koyala's frown deepened, and she seemed on the point of refusal, when Lkath urged: "Call us down a curse, daughter of Djath, I beg you."
Seeing there was no escape, Koyala sank to herknees and lifted her hands to the vault above. A vacant stare came into her eyes. Her lips began to move, first almost inaudibly; then Peter Gross distinguished the refrain of an uninterpretable formula of the Bulungan priesthood, a formula handed down to her by her grandfather, Chawatangi. Presently she began her curse in a mystic drone:
"May his eyes be burned out with fire; may the serpents devour his limbs; may the vultures eat his flesh; may the wild pigs defile his bones; may his soul burn in the eternal fires of the Gunong Agong—"
"Mercy,bilian, mercy!" Shrieking his plea, the dead Sadonger's brother staggered forward and groveled at Koyala's feet. "I will tell all!" he gasped. "I shot the arrow; I killed my brother; for the love of his woman I killed him—"
He fell in a fit, foaming at the mouth.
There was utter silence for a moment. Then Peter Gross said to the aged priest who kept the temple:
"Call the guard, father, and have this carrion removed to the jail." At a nod from Lkath, the priest went.
Neither Lkath nor Koyala broke the silence until they had returned to the former's house. Peter Gross, elated at the success of his mission, was puzzled and disappointed at the look he surprised on Koyala's face, a look of dissatisfaction at the turn of events. The moment she raised her eyes to meet his, however, her face brightened.
When they were alone Lkath asked:
"How did you know, O wise one?" His voice expressed an almost superstitious reverence.
"The gods reveal many things to those they love," was Peter Gross's enigmatical reply.
To Paddy Rouse, who asked the same question, he made quite a different reply.
"It was really quite simple," he said. "The only man with a motive for the crime was the brother. He wanted the wife. His actions at the water-hole convinced me he was guilty; all that was necessary was a little claptrap and an appeal to native superstition to force him to confess. This looked bad for us at the start, but it has proven the most fortunate thing that could have happened. Lkath will be with us now."