initial commit of ebook 37215HEADmain

18 files changed, 32194 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/37215-8.txt b/37215-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..edb4ccd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/37215-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,9857 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Argus Pheasant, by John Charles Beecham
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Argus Pheasant
+
+Author: John Charles Beecham
+
+Illustrator: George W. Gage
+
+Release Date: August 26, 2011 [EBook #37215]
+Last updated: May 2, 2012
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGUS PHEASANT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Katie Hernandez, Suzanne Shell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Cover]
+
+
+
+
+    THE ARGUS PHEASANT
+
+[Illustration: The Chinaman's laborious progress through the cane had
+amused her. She knew why he stepped so carefully]
+
+    THE
+
+    ARGUS PHEASANT
+
+    BY
+
+    JOHN CHARLES BEECHAM
+
+    Frontispiece by
+    GEORGE W. GAGE
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    NEW YORK
+    W. J. WATT & COMPANY
+    PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+    COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY
+    W. J. WATT & COMPANY
+
+    PRESS OF
+    BRAUNWORTH & CO.
+    BOOK MANUFACTURERS
+    BROOKLYN, N. Y.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTER                               PAGE
+     I. The Omniscient Sachsen         1
+    II. Ah Sing Counts His Nails       10
+   III. Peter Gross is Named Resident  25
+    IV. Koyola's Prayer                35
+     V. Sachsen's Warning              54
+    VI. The Pirate League              73
+   VII. Mynheer Muller Worries         82
+  VIII. Koyala's Warning               97
+    IX. The Long Arm of Ah Sing       107
+     X. Captain Carver Signs          119
+    XI. Mynheer Muller's Dream        125
+   XII. Peter Gross's Reception       134
+  XIII. A Fever Antidote              144
+   XIV. Koyala's Defiance             154
+    XV. The Council                   165
+   XVI. Peter Gross's Pledge          173
+  XVII. The Poisoned Arrow            192
+ XVIII. A Summons to Sadong           198
+   XIX. Koyala's Ultimatum            207
+    XX. Lkath's Conversion            216
+   XXI. Captured by Pirates           226
+  XXII. In the Temple                 238
+ XXIII. Ah Sing's Vengeance           245
+  XXIV. A Rescue                      252
+   XXV. The Fight on the Beach        259
+  XXVI. "To Half of My Kingdom-"      268
+ XXVII. A Woman Scorned               274
+XXVIII. The Attack on the Fort        285
+  XXIX. A Woman's Heart               296
+   XXX. The Governor's Promise        310
+
+
+
+
+THE ARGUS PHEASANT
+
+    Ah, God, for a man with a heart, head, hand,
+    Like some of the simple great ones gone
+    Forever and ever by;
+    One still, strong man in a blatant land,
+    Whatever they call him--what care I?--
+    Aristocrat, democrat, autocrat--one
+    Who can rule and dare not lie!        _Tennyson._
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE OMNISCIENT SACHSEN
+
+
+It was very apparent that his Excellency Jonkheer Adriaan Adriaanszoon
+Van Schouten, governor-general of the Netherlands East Indies, was in a
+temper. His eyes sparked like an emery-wheel biting cold steel. His
+thin, sharp-ridged nose rose high and the nostrils quivered. His pale,
+almost bloodless lips were set in rigid lines over his finely chiseled,
+birdlike beak with its aggressive Vandyke beard. His hair bristled
+straight and stiff, like the neck-feathers of a ruffled cock, over the
+edge of his linen collar. It was this latter evidence of the governor's
+unpleasant humor that his military associate, General Gysbert Karel
+Vanden Bosch, observed with growing anxiety.
+
+The governor took a pinch of snuff with great deliberation and glared
+across the big table of his cabinet-room at the general. Vanden Bosch
+shrank visibly.
+
+"Then, my dear _generaal_," he demanded, "you say we must let these sons
+of Jazebel burn down my residences, behead my residents, and feed my
+_controlleurs_ to the crocodiles without interference from the
+military?"
+
+"_Ach_, no, your excellency!" General Vanden Bosch expostulated hastily.
+"Not that!"
+
+"I fear I have not understood you, my dear general. What do you advise?"
+
+The icy sweetness of the choleric Van Schouten sent a cold shiver along
+the commander's spine. He wriggled nervously in the capacious armchair
+that he filled so snugly. Quite unconsciously he mumbled to himself the
+clause which the pious Javanese had added to their prayers since Van
+Schouten's coming to Batavia: "And from the madness of the _orang
+blanda_ devil at the _paleis_, Allah deliver us."
+
+"Ha! _generaal_, what do you say?" the governor exclaimed.
+
+Vanden Bosch coughed noisily and rallied his wits.
+
+"Ahem, your excellency; ah-hum! It is a problem, as your excellency
+knows. I could send Colonel Heyns and his regiment to Bulungan, if your
+excellency so desires. But--ahem--as your excellency knows, all he will
+find is empty huts. Not a proa on the sea; not a Dyak in his field."
+
+"You might as well send that many wooden men!" Van Schouten snapped.
+
+The general winced. His portentously solemn features that for forty
+years had impressed the authorities at The Hague with his sagacity in
+military affairs became severely grave. Oracularly he suggested:
+
+"Would it not be wise, your excellency, to give Mynheer Muller, the
+_controlleur_, more time? His last report was very satisfactory. Very
+satisfactory, indeed!" He smacked his lips at the satisfactoriness
+thereof.
+
+"_Donder en bliksem!_" the governor swore, crashing his lean fist on the
+table. "More time for what? The taxes have not been paid for two years.
+Not a kilo of rice has been grown on our plantations. Not a liter of
+dammargum has been shipped here. The cane is left to rot uncut. Fire has
+ravaged the cinchona-groves my predecessors set with such care. Every
+ship brings fresh reports of piracies, of tribal wars, and head-hunting.
+How much longer must we possess our souls in patience while these things
+go on?"
+
+The general shook his head with a brave show of regret.
+
+"_Ach!_ your excellency," he replied sadly; "he promised so well."
+
+"Promises," the governor retorted, "do not pay taxes."
+
+Vanden Bosch rubbed his purple nose in perplexity.
+
+"I suppose it is the witch-woman again," he remarked, discouragedly.
+
+"Who else?" Van Schouten growled. "Always the witch-woman. That spawn of
+Satan, Koyala, is at the bottom of every uprising we have in Borneo."
+
+"That is what we get for letting half-breeds mingle with whites in our
+mission schools," Vanden Bosch observed bitterly.
+
+The governor scowled. "That folly will cost the state five hundred
+_gulden_," he remarked. "That is the price I have put on her head."
+
+The general pricked up his ears. "H-m, that should interest Mynheer
+Muller," he remarked. "There is nothing he likes so well as the feel of
+a guilder between his fingers."
+
+The governor snorted. "_Neen, generaal_," he negatived. "For once he has
+found a sweeter love than silver. The fool fairly grovels at Koyala's
+feet, Sachsen tells me."
+
+"So?" Vanden Bosch exclaimed with quickened interest. "They say she is
+very fair."
+
+"If I could get my hands on her once, the Argus Pheasant's pretty
+feathers would molt quickly," Van Schouten snarled. His fingers closed
+like an eagle's talons.
+
+"Argus Pheasant, Bintang Burung, the Star Bird--'tis a sweet-sounding
+name the Malays have for her," the general remarked musingly. There was
+a sparkle in his eye--the old warrior had not lost his fondness for a
+pretty face. "If I was younger," he sighed, "I might go to Bulungan
+myself."
+
+The governor grunted.
+
+"You are an old cock that has lost his tail-feathers, _generaal_," he
+growled. "This is a task for a young man."
+
+The general's chest swelled and his chin perked up jauntily.
+
+"I am not so old as you think, your excellency," he retorted with a
+trace of asperity.
+
+"_Neen, neen, generaal_," the governor negatived, "I cannot let you
+go--not for your own good name's sake. The gossips of Amsterdam and The
+Hague would have a rare scandal to prate about if it became whispered
+around that Gysbert Vanden Bosch was scouring the jungles of Bulungan
+for a witch-woman with a face and form like Helen of Troy's."
+
+The general flushed. His peccadillos had followed him to Java, and he
+did not like to be reminded of them.
+
+"The argus pheasant is too shy a bird to come within gunshot, your
+excellency," he replied somberly. "It must be trapped."
+
+"Ay, and so must she," the governor assented. "That is how she got her
+name. But you are too seasoned for bait, my dear _generaal_." He
+chuckled.
+
+Vanden Bosch was too much impressed with his own importance to enjoy
+being chaffed. Ignoring the thrust, he observed dryly:
+
+"Your excellency might try King Saul's plan."
+
+"Ha!" the governor exclaimed with interest. "What is that?"
+
+Van Schouten prided himself on his knowledge of the Scriptures, and the
+general could not repress a little smirk of triumph at catching him
+napping.
+
+"King Saul tied David's hands by giving him his daughter to wife," he
+explained. "In the same way, your excellency might clip the Argus
+Pheasant's wings by marrying her to one of our loyal servants. It might
+be managed most satisfactorily. A proper marriage would cause her to
+forget the brown blood that she hates so bitterly."
+
+"It is not her brown blood that she hates, it is her white blood," Van
+Schouten contradicted. "But who would be the man?"
+
+"Why not Mynheer Muller, the _controlleur_!" Vanden Bosch asked. "From
+what your excellency says, he would not be unwilling. Then our troubles
+in Bulungan would be over."
+
+Van Schouten scowled thoughtfully.
+
+"It would be a good match," the general urged. "He is only common
+blood--a Marken herring-fisher's son by a Celebes woman. And she"--he
+shrugged his shoulders--"for all her pretty face and plump body she is
+Leveque, the French trader's daughter, by a Dyak woman."
+
+He licked his lips in relish of the plan.
+
+Van Schouten shook his head.
+
+"No, I cannot do it," he said. "I could send her to the
+coffee-plantations--that would be just punishment for her
+transgressions. But God keep me from sentencing any woman to marry."
+
+"But, your excellency," Vanden Bosch entreated.
+
+"It is ridiculous, _generaal_," the governor cut in autocratically. "The
+argus pheasant does not mate with the vulture."
+
+Vanden Bosch's face fell. "Then your excellency must appoint another
+resident," he said, in evident disappointment. "It will take a strong
+man to bring those Dyaks to time."
+
+Van Schouten looked at him fixedly for several moments. A miserable
+sensation of having said too much crept over the general.
+
+"Ha!" Van Schouten exclaimed. "You say we must have a new resident. That
+has been my idea, too. What bush-fighter have you that can lead two
+hundred cut-throats like himself and harry these tigers out of their
+lairs till they crawl on their bellies to beg for peace?"
+
+Inwardly cursing himself for his folly in ceasing to advocate Muller,
+the general twiddled his thumbs and said nothing.
+
+"Well, _generaal_?" Van Schouten rasped irascibly.
+
+"Ahem--you know what troops I have, your excellency. Mostly raw
+recruits, here scarce three months. There is not a man among them I
+would trust alone in the bush. After all, it might be wisest to give
+Mynheer Muller another chance." His cheeks puffed till they were purple.
+
+Van Schouten's face flamed.
+
+"Enough! Enough!" he roared. "If the military cannot keep our house in
+order, Sachsen and I will find a man. That is all, _generaal_.
+_Goedendag!_"
+
+Vanden Bosch made a hasty and none too dignified exit, damning under his
+breath the administration that had transferred him from a highly
+ornamental post in Amsterdam to live with this pepper-pot. He was hardly
+out of the door before the governor shouted:
+
+"Sachsen! _Hola_, Sachsen!"
+
+The sound of the governor's voice had scarcely died in the marbled
+corridors when Sachsen, the omniscient, the indispensable secretary,
+bustled into the sanctum. His stooped shoulders were crooked in a
+perpetual obeisance, and his damp, gray hair was plastered thinly over
+his ruddy scalp; but the shrewd twinkle in his eyes and the hawklike
+cast of his nose and chin belied the air of humility he affected.
+
+"Sachsen," the governor demanded, the eagle gleaming in his lean,
+Cćsarian face, "where can I find a man that will bring peace to
+Bulungan?"
+
+The wrinkled features of the all-knowing Sachsen crinkled with a smile
+of inspiration.
+
+"Your excellency," he murmured, bowing low, "there is Peter Gross,
+freeholder of Batavia."
+
+"Peter Gross, _Pieter_ Gross," Van Schouten mused, his brow puckered
+with a thoughtful frown. "The name seems to have slipped my memory. What
+has Peter Gross, freeholder of Batavia, done to merit such an
+appointment at our hands, Sachsen?"
+
+The secretary bowed again, punctiliously.
+
+"Your excellency perhaps remembers," he reminded, "that it was Peter
+Gross who rescued Lieutenant Hendrik de Koren and twelve men from the
+pirates of Lombock."
+
+"Ha!" the governor exclaimed, his stern features relaxing a trifle.
+"Now, Sachsen, answer me truthfully, has this Peter Gross an eye for
+women?"
+
+The secretary bent low.
+
+"Your excellency, the fairest flowers of Batavia are his to pick and
+choose. The good God has given him a brave heart, a comely face, and
+plenty of flesh to cover his bones. But his only mistress is the sea."
+
+"If I should send him to Bulungan, would that she-devil, Koyala, make
+the same fool of him that she has of Muller?" the governor demanded
+sharply.
+
+"Your excellency, the angels above would fail sooner than he."
+
+The governor's fist crashed on the table with a resounding thwack.
+
+"Then he is the man we need!" he exclaimed. "Where shall I find this
+Peter Gross, Sachsen?"
+
+"Your excellency, he is now serving as first mate of the Yankee
+barkentine, _Coryander_, anchored in this port. He was here at the
+_paleis_ only a moment ago, inquiring for news of three of his crew who
+had exceeded their shore leave. I think he has gone to Ah Sing's _rumah
+makan_, in the Chinese campong."
+
+Van Schouten sprang from his great chair of state like a cockerel
+fluttering from a roost. He licked his thin lips and curved them into a
+smile.
+
+"Sachsen," he said, "except myself, you are the only man in Java that
+knows anything. My hat and coat, Sachsen, and my cane!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+AH SING COUNTS HIS NAILS
+
+
+Captain Threthaway, of the barkentine, _Coryander_, of Boston, should
+have heeded the warning he received from his first mate, Peter Gross, to
+keep away from the roadstead of Batavia. He had no particular business
+in that port. But an equatorial sun, hot enough to melt the marrow in a
+man's bones, made the _Coryander's_ deck a blistering griddle; there was
+no ice on board, and the water in the casks tasted foul as bilge. So the
+captain let his longing for iced tea and the cool depths of a palm-grove
+get the better of his judgment.
+
+Passing Timor, Floris, and the other links in the Malayan chain, Captain
+Threthaway looked longingly at the deeply shaded depths of the mangrove
+jungles. The lofty tops of the cane swayed gently to a breeze scarcely
+perceptible on the _Coryander's_ sizzling deck. When the barkentine
+rounded Cape Karawang, he saw a bediamonded rivulet leap sheer off a
+lofty cliff and lose itself in the liana below. It was the last straw;
+the captain felt he had to land and taste ice on his tongue again or
+die. Calling his first mate, he asked abruptly:
+
+"Can we victual at Batavia as cheaply as at Singapore, Mr. Gross?"
+
+Peter Gross looked at the shore-line thoughtfully.
+
+"One place is as cheap as the other, Mr. Threthaway; but if it's my
+opinion you want, I advise against stopping at Batavia."
+
+The captain frowned.
+
+"Why, Mr. Gross?" he asked sharply.
+
+"Because we'd lose our crew, and Batavia's a bad place to pick up
+another one. That gang for'ard isn't to be trusted where there's liquor
+to be got. 'Twouldn't be so bad to lose a few of them at
+Singapore--there's always English-speaking sailors there waiting for a
+ship to get home on; but Batavia's Dutch. We might have to lay around a
+week."
+
+"I don't think there's the slightest danger of desertions," Captain
+Threthaway replied testily. "What possible reason could any of our crew
+have to leave?"
+
+"The pay is all right, and the grub is all right; there's no kicking on
+those lines," Peter Gross said, speaking guardedly. "But most of this
+crew are drinking men. They're used to their rations of grog regular.
+They've been without liquor since we left Frisco, except what they got
+at Melbourne, and that was precious little. Since the water fouled on
+us, they're ready for anything up to murder and mutiny. There'll be no
+holding them once we make port."
+
+Captain Threthaway flushed angrily. His thin, ascetic jaw set with
+Puritan stubbornness as he retorted:
+
+"When I can't sail a ship without supplying liquor to the crew, I'll
+retire, Mr. Gross."
+
+"Don't misunderstand me, captain," Peter Gross replied, with quiet
+patience.
+
+"I'm not disagreeing with your teetotaler principles. They improve a
+crew if you've got the right stock to work with. But when you take grog
+away from such dock-sweepings as Smith and Jacobson and that little
+Frenchman, Le Beouf, you take away the one thing on earth they're
+willing to work for. We had all we could do to hold them in hand at
+Melbourne, and after the contrary trades we've bucked the past week, and
+the heat, their tongues are hanging out for a drop of liquor."
+
+"Let them dare come back drunk," the captain snapped angrily. "I know
+what will cure them."
+
+"They won't come back," Peter Gross asserted calmly.
+
+"Then we'll go out and get them," Captain Threthaway said grimly.
+
+"They'll be where they can't be found," Peter Gross replied.
+
+Captain Threthaway snorted impatiently.
+
+"Look here, captain!" Peter Gross exclaimed, facing his skipper
+squarely. "Batavia is my home when I'm not at sea. I know its ins and
+outs. Knowing the town, and knowing the crew we've got, I'm sure a stop
+there will be a mighty unpleasant experience all around. There's a
+Chinaman there, Ah Sing, a public-house proprietor and a crimp, that
+has runners to meet every boat. Once a man goes into his _rumah makan_,
+he's as good as lost until the next skipper comes along short-handed and
+puts up the price."
+
+Captain Threthaway smiled confidently.
+
+"Poor as the crew is, Mr. Gross, there's no member of it will prefer
+lodging in a Chinese crimp's public house ten thousand miles from home
+to his berth here."
+
+"They'll forget his color when they taste his hot rum," Peter Gross
+returned bruskly. "And once they drink it, they'll forget everything
+else. Ah Sing is the smoothest article that ever plaited a queue, and
+they don't make them any slicker than they do in China."
+
+Captain Threthaway's lips pinched together in irritation.
+
+"There are always the authorities," he remarked pettishly, to end the
+controversy.
+
+Peter Gross restrained a look of disgust with difficulty.
+
+"Yes, there are always the authorities," he conceded. "But in the
+Chinese campong they're about as much use as a landlubber aloft in a
+blow. The campong is a little republic in itself, and Ah Sing is the man
+that runs it. If the truth was known, I guess he's the boss Chinaman of
+the East Indies--pirate, trader, politician--anything he can make a
+guilder at. From his rum-shop warrens run into every section of
+Chinatown, and they're so well hid that the governor, though he's sharp
+as a weasel and by all odds the best man the Dutch ever had here, can't
+find them. It's the real port of missing men."
+
+Captain Threthaway looked shoreward, where dusky, breech-clouted natives
+were resting in the cool shade of the heavy-leafed mangroves. A bit of
+breeze stirred just then, bringing with it the rich spice-grove and
+jungle scents of the thickly wooded island. A fierce longing for the
+shore seized the captain. He squared his shoulders with decision.
+
+"I'll take the chance, Mr. Gross," he said. "This heat is killing me.
+You may figure on twenty-four hours in port."
+
+Twelve hours after the _Coryander_ cast anchor in Batavia harbor, Smith,
+Jacobson, and Le Beouf were reported missing. When Captain Threthaway,
+for all his Boston upbringing, had exhausted a prolific vocabulary, he
+called his first mate.
+
+"Mr. Gross," he said, "the damned renegades are gone. Do you think you
+can find them?"
+
+Long experience in the vicissitudes of life, acquired in that best
+school of all, the forecastle, had taught Peter Gross the folly of
+saying, "I told you so." Therefore he merely replied:
+
+"I'll try, sir."
+
+So it befell that he sought news of the missing ones at the great white
+_stadhuis_, where the Heer Sachsen, always his friend, met him and
+conceived the inspiration for his prompt recommendation to the
+governor-general.
+
+Peter Gross ambled on toward Ah Sing's _rumah makan_ without the
+slightest suspicion he was being followed. On his part, Governor-General
+Van Schouten was content to let his quarry walk on unconscious of
+observation while he measured the man.
+
+"God in Israel, what a man!" his excellency exclaimed admiringly, noting
+Peter Gross's broad shoulders and stalwart thighs. "If he packs as much
+brains inside his skull as he does meat on his bones, there are some
+busy days ahead for my Dyaks." He smacked his lips in happy
+anticipation.
+
+Ah Sing's grog-shop, with its colonnades and porticoes and fussy gables
+and fantastic cornices terminating in pigtail curlicues, was a squalid
+place for all the ornamentation cluttered on it. Peter Gross observed
+its rubbishy surroundings with ill-concealed disgust.
+
+"'Twould be a better Batavia if some one set fire to the place," he
+muttered to himself. "Yet the law would call it arson."
+
+Looking up, he saw Ah Sing seated in one of the porticoes, and quickly
+masked his face to a smile of cordial greeting, but not before the
+Chinaman had detected his ill humor.
+
+There was a touch of three continents in Ah Sing's appearance. He sat
+beside a table, in the American fashion; he smoked a long-stemmed
+hookah, after the Turkish fashion, and he wore his clothes after the
+Chinese fashion. The bland innocence of his pudgy face and the seraphic
+mildness of his unblinking almond eyes that peeped through slits no
+wider than the streak of a charcoal-pencil were as the guilelessness of
+Mother Eve in the garden. Motionless as a Buddha idol he sat, except for
+occasional pulls at the hookah.
+
+"Good-morning, Ah Sing," Peter Gross remarked happily, as he mounted the
+colonnade.
+
+The tiny slits through which Ah Sing beheld the pageantry of a sun-baked
+world opened a trifle wider.
+
+"May Allah bless thee, Mr. Gross," he greeted impassively.
+
+Peter Gross pulled a chair away from one of the other tables and placed
+it across the board from Ah Sing. Then he succumbed to it with a sigh of
+gentle ease.
+
+"A hot day," he panted, and fanned himself as though he found the
+humidity unbearable.
+
+"Belly hot," Ah Sing gravely agreed in a guttural voice that sounded
+from unfathomable abysses.
+
+"A hot day for a man that's tasted no liquor for nigh three months,"
+Peter Gross amended.
+
+"You makee long trip?" Ah Sing inquired politely.
+
+Peter Gross's features molded themselves into an expression eloquently
+appreciative of his past miseries.
+
+"That's altogether how you take it, Ah Sing," he replied. "From Frisco
+to Melbourne to Batavia isn't such a thunderin' long ways, not to a man
+that's done the full circle three times. But when you make the voyage
+with a Methodist captain who doesn't believe in grog, it's the longest
+since Captain Cook's. Ah Sing, my throat's dryer than a sou'east
+monsoon. Hot toddy for two."
+
+Ah Sing clapped his hands and uttered a magic word or two in Chinese. A
+Cantonese waiter paddled swiftly outside, bearing a lacquered tray and
+two steaming glasses. One he placed before Ah Sing and the other before
+Peter Gross, who tossed a coin on the table.
+
+"Pledge your health, sir," Peter Gross remarked and reached across the
+board to clink glasses with his Chinese friend. Ah Sing lifted his glass
+to meet the sailor's and suddenly found it snaked out of his hands by a
+deft motion of Peter Gross's middle finger. Gross slid his own glass
+across the table toward Ah Sing.
+
+"If you don't mind," he remarked pleasantly. "Your waiter might have
+mistaken me for a plain A. B., and I've got to get back to my ship
+to-night."
+
+Ah Sing's bland and placid face remained expressionless as a carved
+god's. But he left the glass stand, untasted, beside him.
+
+The _Coryander's_ mate sipped his liquor and sank deeper into his chair.
+He studied with an air of affectionate interest the long lane of
+quaintly colonnaded buildings that edged the city within a city, the
+Chinese campong. Pigtailed Orientals, unmindful of the steaming heat,
+squirmed across the scenery. Ten thousand stenches were compounded into
+one, in which the flavor of garlic predominated. Peter Gross breathed
+the heavy air with a smile of reminiscent pleasure and dropped another
+notch into the chair.
+
+"It feels good to be back ashore again for a spell, Ah Sing," he
+remarked. "A nice, cool spot like this, with nothing to do and some of
+your grog under the belt, skins a blistery deck any day. I don't wonder
+so many salts put up here."
+
+Back of the curtain of fat through which they peered, Ah Sing's oblique
+eyes quivered a trifle as they watched the sailor keenly.
+
+"By the way," Peter Gross observed, stretching his long legs out to the
+limit of their reach, "you haven't seen any of my men, have you? Smith,
+he's pock-marked and has a cut over his right eye; Jacobson, a tall
+Swede, and Le Beouf, a little Frenchman with a close-clipped black
+mustache and beard?"
+
+Ah Sing gravely cudgeled his memory.
+
+"None of your men," he assured, "was here."
+
+Peter Gross's face fell.
+
+"That's too bad!" he exclaimed in evident disappointment. "I thought
+sure I'd find 'em here. You're sure you haven't overlooked them? That
+Frenchie might call for a hop; we picked him out of a hop-joint at
+Frisco."
+
+"None your men here," Ah Sing repeated gutturally.
+
+Peter Gross rumpled his tousled hair in perplexity.
+
+"We-el," he drawled unhappily, "if those chaps don't get back on
+shipboard by nightfall I'll have to buy some men from you, Ah Sing. Have
+y' got three good hands that know one rope from another?"
+
+"Two men off schooner _Marianna_," Ah Sing replied in his same thick
+monotone. "One man, steamer _Callee-opie_. Good strong man. Work hard."
+
+"You stole 'em, I s'pose?" Peter Gross asked pleasantly.
+
+Ah Sing's heavy jowls waggled in gentle negation.
+
+"No stealum man," he denied quietly. "Him belly sick. Come here, get
+well. Allie big, strong man."
+
+"How much a head?"
+
+"Twlenty dlolla."
+
+"F. O. B. the _Coryander_ and no extra charges?"
+
+Ah Sing's inscrutable face screwed itself into a maze of unreadable
+wrinkles and lines.
+
+"Him eat heap," he announced. "Five dlolla more for board."
+
+"You go to blazes," Peter Gross replied cheerfully. "I'll look up a
+couple of men somewhere else or go short-handed if I have to."
+
+Ah Sing made no reply and his impassive face did not alter its
+expressionless fixity. Peter Gross lazily pulled himself up in his chair
+and extended his right hand across the table. A ring with a big
+bloodstone in the center, a bloodstone cunningly chiseled and marked,
+rested on the middle finger.
+
+"See that ring, Ah Sing?" he asked. "I got that down to Mauritius. What
+d'ye think it's worth?"
+
+Ah Sing's long, claw-like fingers groped avariciously toward the ring.
+His tiny, fat-encased eyes gleamed with cupidity.
+
+With a quick, cat-like movement, Peter Gross gripped one of the
+Chinaman's hands.
+
+"Don't pull," he cautioned quickly as Ah Sing tried to draw his hand
+away. "I was going to tell you that there's a drop of adder's poison
+inside the bloodstone that runs down a little hollow pin if you press
+the stone just so--" He moved to illustrate.
+
+"No! No!" Ah Sing shrieked pig-like squeals of terror.
+
+"Just send one of your boys for my salts, will you?" Peter Gross
+requested pleasantly. "I understand they got here yesterday morning and
+haven't been seen to leave. Talk English--no China talk, savvy?"
+
+A flash of malevolent fury broke Ah Sing's mask of impassivity. The rage
+his face expressed caused Peter Gross to grip his hand the harder and
+look quickly around for a possible danger from behind. They were alone.
+Peter Gross moved a finger toward the stone, and Ah Sing capitulated. At
+his shrill cry there was a hurried rustle from within. Peter Gross kept
+close grip on the Chinaman's hand until he heard the shuffling tramp of
+sailor feet. Smith, Jacobson and Le Beouf, blinking sleepily, were
+herded on the portico by two giant Thibetans.
+
+Peter Gross shoved the table and Ah Sing violently back and leaped to
+his feet.
+
+"You'll--desert--will you?" he exclaimed. Each word was punctuated by a
+swift punch on the chin of one of the unlucky sailors and an echoing
+thud on the floor. Smith, Jacobson, and Le Beouf lay neatly cross-piled
+on one of Ah Sing's broken chairs.
+
+"I'll pay for the chair," Peter Gross declared, jerking his men to their
+feet and shoving them down the steps.
+
+Ah Sing shrilled an order in Chinese. The Thibetan giants leaped for
+Peter Gross, who sprang out of their reach and put his back to the wall.
+In his right hand a gun flashed.
+
+"Ah Sing, I'll take you first," he shouted.
+
+The screen separating them from the adjoining portico was violently
+pushed aside.
+
+"Ah Sing!" exclaimed a sharp, authoritative voice.
+
+Ah Sing looked about, startled. The purpled fury his face expressed
+sickened to a mottled gray. Adriaan Adriaanszoon Van Schouten,
+governor-general of Java, leaning lightly on his cane, frowned sternly
+at the scene of disorder. At a cry from their master the two Thibetans
+backed away from Peter Gross, who lowered his weapon.
+
+"Is it thus you observe our laws, Ah Sing?" Van Schouten demanded
+coldly.
+
+Ah Sing licked his lips. "Light of the sun--" he began, but the governor
+interrupted shortly:
+
+"The magistrate will hear your explanations." His eagle eyes looked
+penetratingly upon Peter Gross, who looked steadfastly back.
+
+"Sailor, you threatened to poison this man," the governor accused
+harshly, indicating Ah Sing.
+
+"Your excellency, that was bluff," Peter Gross replied. "The ring is as
+harmless as your excellency's own."
+
+Van Schouten's eyes twinkled.
+
+"What is your name, sailor, and your ship?" he demanded.
+
+"Peter Gross, your excellency, first mate of the barkentine _Coryander_
+of Boston, now lying in your excellency's harbor of Batavia."
+
+"Ah Sing," Van Schouten rasped sternly, "if these drunken louts are not
+aboard their ship by nightfall, you go to the coffee-fields."
+
+Ah Sing's gimlet eyes shrank to pin-points. His face was expressionless,
+but his whole body seemed to shake with suppressed emotion as he choked
+in guttural Dutch:
+
+"Your excellency shall be obeyed." He salaamed to the ground.
+
+Van Schouten glared at Peter Gross.
+
+"Mynheer Gross, the good name of our fair city is very dear to us," he
+said sternly. "Scenes of violence like this do it much damage. I would
+have further discourse with you. Be at the _paleis_ within the hour."
+
+"I shall be there, your excellency," Peter Gross promised.
+
+The governor shifted his frown to Ah Sing.
+
+"As for you, Ah Sing, I have heard many evil reports of this place," he
+said. "Let me hear no more."
+
+While Ah Sing salaamed again, the governor strode pompously away,
+followed at a respectful distance by Peter Gross. It was not until they
+had disappeared beyond a curve in the road that Ah Sing let his face
+show his feelings. Then an expression of malignant fury before which
+even the two Thibetans quailed, crossed it.
+
+He uttered a harsh command to have the débris removed. The Thibetans
+jumped forward in trembling alacrity. Without giving them another glance
+he waddled into the building, into a little den screened off for his own
+use. From a patent steel safe of American make he took an ebony box,
+quaintly carved and colored in glorious pinks and yellows with a flower
+design. Opening this, he exposed a row of glass vials resting on beds of
+cotton. Each vial contained some nail parings.
+
+He took out the vials one by one, looked at their labels inscribed in
+Chinese characters, and placed them on an ivory tray. As he read each
+label a curious smile of satisfaction spread over his features.
+
+When he had removed the last vial he sat at his desk, dipped a pen into
+India ink, and wrote two more labels in similar Chinese characters. When
+the ink had dried he placed these on two empty vials taken from a
+receptacle on his desk. The vials were placed with the others in the
+ebony box and locked in the safe.
+
+The inscriptions he read on the labels were the names of men who had
+died sudden and violent deaths in the East Indies while he had lived at
+Batavia. The labels he filled out carried the names of Adriaan
+Adriaanszoon Van Schouten and Peter Gross.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+PETER GROSS IS NAMED RESIDENT
+
+
+"Sailor, the penalty for threatening the life of any citizen is penal
+servitude on the state's coffee-plantations."
+
+The governor's voice rang harshly, and he scowled across the big table
+in his cabinet-room at the _Coryander's_ mate sitting opposite him. His
+hooked nose and sharp-pointed chin with its finely trimmed Van Dyke
+beard jutted forward rakishly.
+
+"I ask no other justice than your excellency's own sense of equity
+suggests," Peter Gross replied quietly.
+
+"H'mm!" the governor hummed. He looked at the _Coryander's_ mate keenly
+for a few moments through half-closed lids. Suddenly he said:
+
+"And what if I should appoint you a resident, sailor?"
+
+Peter Gross's lips pressed together tightly, but otherwise he gave no
+sign of his profound astonishment at the governor's astounding proposal.
+Sinking deeper into his chair until his head sagged on his breast, he
+deliberated before replying.
+
+"Your excellency is in earnest?"
+
+"I do not jest on affairs of state, Mynheer Gross. What is your
+answer?"
+
+Peter Gross paused. "Your excellency overwhelms me--" he began, but Van
+Schouten cut him short.
+
+"Enough! When I have work to do I choose the man who I think can do it.
+Then you accept?"
+
+"Your excellency, to my deep regret I must most respectfully decline."
+
+A look of blank amazement spread over the governor's face. Then his eyes
+blazed ominously.
+
+"Decline! Why?" he roared.
+
+"For several reasons," Peter Gross replied with disarming mildness. "In
+the first place I am under contract with Captain Threthaway of the
+_Coryander_--"
+
+"I will arrange that with your captain," the governor broke in.
+
+"In the second place I am neither a soldier nor a politician--"
+
+"That is for me to consider," the governor retorted.
+
+"In the third place, I am a citizen of the United States and therefore
+not eligible to any civil appointment from the government of the
+Netherlands."
+
+"_Donder en bliksem!_" the governor exclaimed. "I thought you were a
+freeholder here."
+
+"I am," Peter Gross admitted. "The land I won is at Riswyk. I expect to
+make it my home when I retire from the sea."
+
+"How long have you owned that land?"
+
+"For nearly seven years."
+
+The governor stroked his beard. "You talk Holland like a Hollander,
+Mynheer Gross," he observed.
+
+"My mother was of Dutch descent," Peter Gross explained. "I learned the
+language from her."
+
+"Good!" Van Schouten inclined his head with a curt nod of satisfaction.
+"Half Holland is all Holland. We can take steps to make you a citizen at
+once."
+
+"I don't care to surrender my birthright." Peter Gross negatived
+quietly.
+
+"What!" Van Schouten shouted. "Not for a resident's post? And eight
+thousand guilders a year? And a land grant in Java that will make you
+rich for life if you make those hill tribes stick to their plantations?
+What say you to this, Mynheer Gross?" His lips curved with a smile of
+anticipation.
+
+"The offer is tempting and the honor great," Peter Gross acknowledged
+quietly. "But I can not forget I was born an American."
+
+Van Schouten leaned back in his chair with a look of astonishment.
+
+"You refuse?" he asked incredulously.
+
+"I am sorry, your excellency!" Peter Gross's tone was unmistakably firm.
+
+"You refuse?" the governor repeated, still unbelieving.
+"Eight--thousand--guilders! And a land grant that will make you rich for
+life!"
+
+"I am an American, and American I shall stay."
+
+The governor's eyes sparkled with admiration.
+
+"By the beard of Orange!" he exclaimed, "it is no wonder you Yankees
+have sucked the best blood of the world into your country." He leaned
+forward confidentially.
+
+"Mynheer Gross, I cannot appoint you resident if you refuse to take the
+oath of allegiance to the queen. But I can make you special agent of the
+_gouverneur-generaal_. I can make you a resident in fact, if not in
+name, of a country larger than half the Netherlands, larger than many of
+your own American States. I can give you the rewards I have pledged you,
+a fixed salary and the choice of a thousand hectares of our fairest
+state lands in Java. What do you say?"
+
+He leaned forward belligerently. In that posture his long, coarse hair
+rose bristly above his neck, giving him something of the appearance of a
+gamecock with feathers ruffled. It was this peculiarity that first
+suggested the name he was universally known by throughout the Sundas,
+"De Kemphaan" (The Gamecock).
+
+"To what province would you appoint me?" Peter Gross asked slowly.
+
+The governor hesitated. With the air of a poker player forced to show
+his hand he confessed:
+
+"It is a difficult post, mynheer, and needs a strong man as resident. It
+is the residency of Bulungan, Borneo."
+
+There was the faintest flicker in Peter Gross's eyes. Van Schouten
+watched him narrowly. In the utter stillness that followed the governor
+could hear his watch tick.
+
+Peter Gross rose abruptly, leaped for the door, and threw it open. He
+looked straight into the serene, imperturbable face of Chi Wung Lo,
+autocrat of the governor's domestic establishment. Chi Wung bore a
+delicately lacquered tray of Oriental design on which were standing two
+long, thin, daintily cut glasses containing cooling limes that bubbled
+fragrantly. Without a word he swept grandly in and placed the glasses on
+the table, one before the governor, and the other before Peter Gross's
+vacant chair.
+
+"Ha!" Van Schouten exclaimed, smacking his lips. "Chi Wung, you
+peerless, priceless servant, how did you guess our needs?"
+
+With a bland bow and never a glance at Peter Gross, Chi Wung strutted
+out in Oriental dignity, carrying his empty tray. Peter Gross closed the
+door carefully, and walked slowly back.
+
+"I was about to say, your excellency," he murmured, "that Bulungan has
+not a happy reputation."
+
+"It needs a strong man to rule it," the governor acknowledged, running
+his glance across Peter Gross's broad shoulders in subtle compliment.
+
+"Those who have held the post of resident there found early graves."
+
+"You are young, vigorous. You have lived here long enough to know how to
+escape the fevers."
+
+"There are worse enemies in Bulungan than the fevers," Peter Gross
+replied. "It is not for nothing that Bulungan is known as the graveyard
+of Borneo."
+
+The governor glanced at Peter Gross's strong face and stalwart form
+regretfully.
+
+"Your refusal is final?" he asked.
+
+"On the contrary, if your excellency will meet one condition, I accept,"
+Peter Gross replied.
+
+The governor put his glass down sharply and stared at the sailor.
+
+"You accept this post?" he demanded.
+
+"Upon one condition, yes!"
+
+"What is that condition?"
+
+"That I be allowed a free hand."
+
+"H'mm!" Van Schouten drew a deep breath and leaned back in his chair.
+The sharp, Julian cast of countenance was never more pronounced, and the
+eagle eyes gleamed inquiringly, calculatingly. Peter Gross looked
+steadily back. The minutes passed and neither spoke.
+
+"Why do you want to go there?" the governor exclaimed suddenly. He
+leaned forward in his chair till his eyes burned across a narrow two
+feet into Peter Gross's own.
+
+The strong, firm line of Peter Gross's lips tightened. He rested one
+elbow on the table and drew nearer the governor. His voice was little
+more than a murmur as he said:
+
+"Your excellency, let me tell you the story of Bulungan."
+
+The governor's face showed surprise. "Proceed," he directed.
+
+"Six years ago, when your excellency was appointed governor-general of
+the Netherlands East Indies," Peter Gross began, "Bulungan was a No
+Man's land, although nominally under the Dutch flag. The pirates that
+infested the Celebes sea and the straits of Macassar found ports of
+refuge in its jungle-banked rivers and marsh mazes where no gun-boat
+could find them. The English told your government that if it did not
+stamp out piracy and subjugate the Dyaks, it would. That meant loss of
+the province to the Dutch crown. Accordingly you sent General Van
+Heemkerken there with eight hundred men who marched from the lowlands to
+the highlands and back again, burning every village they found, but
+meeting no Dyaks except old men and women too helpless to move. General
+Van Heemkerken reported to you that he had pacified the country. On his
+report you sent Mynheer Van Scheltema there as resident, and Cupido as
+_controlleur_. Within six months Van Scheltema was bitten by an adder
+placed in his bedroom and Cupido was assassinated by a hill Dyak, who
+threw him out of a dugout into a river swarming with crocodiles.
+
+"_Lieve hemel_, no!" Van Schouten cried. "Van Scheltema and Cupido died
+of the fevers."
+
+"So it was reported to your excellency," Peter Gross replied gravely. "I
+tell you the facts."
+
+The governor's thin, spiked jaw shot out like a vicious thorn and his
+teeth clicked.
+
+"Go on," he directed sharply.
+
+"For a year there was neither resident nor _controlleur_ at Bulungan.
+Then the pirates became so bold that you again took steps to repress
+them. The stockade at the village of Bulungan was enlarged and the
+garrison was increased to fifty men. Lieutenant Van Slyck, the
+commandant, was promoted to captain. A new resident was appointed,
+Mynheer de Jonge, a very dear friend of your excellency. He was an old
+man, estimable and honest, but ill-fitted for such a post, a failure in
+business, and a failure as a resident. Time after time your excellency
+wrote him concerning piracies, hillmen raids, and head-hunting committed
+in his residency or the adjoining seas. Each time he replied that your
+excellency must be mistaken, that the pirates and head-hunters came from
+other districts."
+
+The governor's eyes popped in amazement. "How do you know this?" he
+exclaimed, but Peter Gross ignored the question.
+
+"Finally about two years ago Mynheer de Jonge, through an accident,
+learned that he had been deceived by those he had trusted, had a right
+to trust. A remark made by a drunken native opened his eyes. One night
+he called out Captain Van Slyck and the latter's commando and made a
+flying raid. He all but surprised a band of pirates looting a captured
+schooner and might have taken them had they not received a warning of
+his coming. That raid made him a marked man. Within two weeks he was
+poisoned by being pricked as he slept with a thorn dipped in the juice
+of the deadly upas tree."
+
+"He was a suicide!" the governor exclaimed, his face ashen. "They
+brought me a note in his own handwriting."
+
+"In which it was stated that he killed himself because he felt he had
+lost your excellency's confidence?"
+
+"You know that, too?" Van Schouten whispered huskily.
+
+"Your excellency has suffered remorse without cause," Peter Gross
+declared quietly. "The note is a forgery."
+
+The governor's hands gripped the edge of the table.
+
+"You can prove that?" he cried.
+
+"For the present your excellency must be satisfied with my word. As
+resident of Bulungan I hope to secure proofs that will satisfy a court
+of justice."
+
+The governor gazed at Peter Gross intently. A conflict of emotions,
+amazement, unbelief, and hope were expressed on his face.
+
+"Why should I believe you?" he demanded fiercely.
+
+Peter Gross's face hardened. The sternness of the magistrate was on his
+brow as he replied:
+
+"Your excellency remembers the schooner _Tetrina_, attacked by Chinese
+and Dyak pirates off the coast of Celebes three years ago? All her crew
+were butchered except two left on the deck that night for dead. I was
+one of the two, your excellency. My dead comrades have left me a big
+debt to pay. That is why I will go to Bulungan."
+
+The governor rose. Decision was written on his brow.
+
+"Meet us here to-night, Mynheer Gross," he said. "There is much to
+discuss with Mynheer Sachsen before you leave. God grant you may be the
+instrument of His eternal justice." Peter Gross raised a hand of
+warning.
+
+"Sometimes the very walls have ears, your excellency," he cautioned. "If
+I am to be resident of Bulungan no word of the appointment must leak out
+until I arrive there."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+KOYALA'S PRAYER
+
+
+It was a blistering hot day in Bulungan. The heavens were molten
+incandescence. The muddy river that bisected the town wallowed through
+its estuary, a steaming tea-kettle. The black muck-fields baked and
+flaked under the torrid heat. The glassy surface of the bay, lying
+within the protecting crook of a curling tail of coral reef, quivered
+under the impact of the sun's rays like some sentient thing.
+
+In the village that nestled where fresh and salt water met, the streets
+were deserted, almost lifeless. Gaunt pariah dogs, driven by the
+acid-sharp pangs of a never-satiated hunger, sniffed among the shadows
+of the bamboo and palmleaf huts, their backs arched and their tails
+slinking between their legs. Too weak to grab their share of the spoil
+in the hurly-burly, they scavenged in these hours of universal inanity.
+The doors of the huts were tightly closed--barricaded against the heat.
+The merchant in his dingy shop, the fisherman in his house on stilts,
+and the fashioner of metals in his thatched cottage in the outskirts
+slept under their mats. Apoplexy was the swift and sure fate of those
+who dared the awful torridity.
+
+Dawn had foretold the heat. The sun shot above the purple and orange
+waters of the bay like a conflagration. The miasmal vapors that
+clustered thickly about the flats by night gathered their linen and fled
+like the hunted. They were scurrying upstream when Bogoru, the
+fisherman, walked out on his sampan landing. He looked at the unruffled
+surface of the bay, and then looked upward quickly at the lane of tall
+kenari trees between the stockade and government buildings on an
+elevation a short distance back of the town. The spindly tops of the
+trees pointed heavenward with the rigidity of church spires.
+
+"There will be no chaetodon sold at the _visschersmarkt_ (fishmart)
+to-day," he observed. "Kismet!"
+
+With a patient shrug of his shoulders he went back to his hut and made
+sure there was a plentiful supply of sirih and cooling limes on hand.
+
+In the fruit-market Tagotu, the fruiterer, set out a tempting display of
+mangosteen, durian, dookoo, and rambootan, pineapples, and pomegranates,
+jars of agar-agar, bowls of rice, freshly cooked, and pitchers of milk.
+
+The square was damp from the heavy night dew when he set out the first
+basket, it was dry as a fresh-baked brick when he put out the last. The
+heavy dust began to flood inward. Tagotu noticed with dismay how thin
+the crowd was that straggled about the market-place. Chepang, his
+neighbor, came out of his stall and observed:
+
+"The monsoon has failed again. Bunungan will stay in his huts to-day."
+
+"It is the will of Allah," Tagotu replied patiently. Putting aside his
+offerings, he lowered the shades of his shop and composed himself for a
+siesta.
+
+On the hill above the town, where the rude fort and the government
+buildings gravely faced the sea, the heat also made itself felt. The
+green blinds of the milk-white residency building, that was patterned as
+closely as tropical conditions would permit after the quaint
+architecture of rural Overysel, were tightly closed. The little cluster
+of residences around it, the _controlleur's_ house and the homes of
+Marinus Blauwpot and Wang Fu, the leading merchants of the place, were
+similarly barricaded. For "Amsterdam," the fashionable residential
+suburb of Bulungan village, was fighting the same enemy as "Rotterdam,"
+the town below, an enemy more terrible than Dyak blow-pipes and Dyak
+poisoned arrows, the Bornean sun.
+
+Like Bogoru, the fisherman, and Tagotu, the fruit-vender, Cho Seng,
+Mynheer Muller's valet and cook, had seen the threat the sunrise
+brought. The sun's copper disc was dyeing the purple and blue waters of
+the bay with vermilion and magentas when he pad-padded out on the
+veranda of the _controlleur's_ house. He was clad in the meticulously
+neat brown jeans that he wore at all times and occasions except funeral
+festivals, and in wicker sandals. With a single sweep of his eyes he
+took in the kenari-tree-lined land that ran to the gate of the stockade
+where a sleepy sentinel, hunched against a pert brass cannon, nodded his
+head drowsily. The road was tenantless. He shot another glance down the
+winding pathway that led by the houses of Marinus Blauwpot and Wang Fu
+to the town below. That also was unoccupied. Stepping off the veranda,
+he crossed over to an unshaded spot directly in front of the house and
+looked intently seaward to where a junk lay at anchor. The brown jeans
+against the milk-white paint of the house threw his figure in sharp
+relief.
+
+Cho Seng waited until a figure showed itself on the deck of the junk.
+Then he shaded his eye with his arm. The Chinaman on the deck of the
+junk must have observed the figure of his fellow countryman on the hill,
+for he also shaded his eyes with his arm.
+
+Cho Seng looked quickly to the right--to the left. There was no one
+stirring. The sentinel at the gate drowsed against the carriage of the
+saucy brass cannon. Shading his eyes once more with a quick gesture, Cho
+Seng walked ten paces ahead. Then he walked back five paces. Making a
+sharp angle he walked five paces to one side. Then he turned abruptly
+and faced the jungle.
+
+The watcher on the junk gave no sign that he had seen this curious
+performance. But as Cho Seng scuttled back into the house, he
+disappeared into the bowels of the ugly hulk.
+
+An hour passed before Cho Seng reappeared on the veranda. He cast only
+a casual glance at the junk and saw that it was being provisioned. After
+listening for a moment to the rhythmic snoring that came from the
+chamber above--Mynheer Muller's apartment--he turned the corner of the
+house and set off at a leisurely pace toward the tangle of mangroves,
+banyan, bamboo cane, and ferns that lay a quarter of a mile inland on
+the same elevation on which the settlement and stockade stood.
+
+There was nothing in his walk to indicate that he had a definite
+objective. He strolled along in apparent aimlessness, as though taking a
+morning's constitutional. Overhead hundreds of birds created a terrific
+din; green and blue-billed gapers shrilled noisily; lories piped their
+matin lays, and the hoarse cawing of the trogons mingled discordantly
+with the mellow notes of the mild cuckoos. A myriad insect life buzzed
+and hummed around him, and scurried across his pathway. Pale white
+flowers of the night that lined the wall shrank modestly into their
+green cloisters before the bold eye of day. But Cho Seng passed them by
+unseeing, and unhearing. Nature had no existence for him except as it
+ministered unto his physical needs. Only once did he turn aside--a
+quick, panicky jump--and that was when a little spotted snake glided in
+front of him and disappeared into the underbrush.
+
+When he was well within the shadows of the mangroves, Cho Seng suddenly
+brightened and began to look about him keenly. Following a faintly
+defined path, he walked along in a circuitous route until he came to a
+clearing under the shade of a huge banyan tree whose aërial roots rose
+over his head. After peering furtively about and seeing no one he
+uttered a hoarse, guttural call, the call the great bird of paradise
+utters to welcome the sunrise--"Wowk, wowk, wowk."
+
+There was an immediate answer--the shrill note of the argus pheasant. It
+sounded from the right, near by, on the other side of a thick tangle of
+cane and creeper growth. Cho Seng paused in apparent disquietude at the
+border of the thicket, but as he hesitated, the call was repeated more
+urgently. Wrenching the cane apart, he stepped carefully into the
+underbrush.
+
+His progress through it was slow. At each step he bent low to make
+certain where his foot fell. He had a mortal fear of snakes--his
+nightmares were ghastly dreams of a loathsome death from a serpent's
+bite.
+
+There was a low ripple of laughter--girlish laughter. Cho Seng
+straightened quickly. To his right was another clearing, and in that
+clearing there was a woman, a young woman just coming into the bloom of
+a glorious beauty. She was seated on a gnarled aërial root. One leg was
+negligently thrown over the other, a slender, shapely arm reached
+gracefully upward to grasp a spur from another root, a coil of silky
+black hair, black as tropic night, lay over her gleaming shoulder. Her
+sarong, spotlessly white, hung loosely about her wondrous form and was
+caught with a cluster of rubies above her breasts. A sandal-covered
+foot, dainty, delicately tapering, its whiteness tanned with a faint
+tint of harvest brown, was thrust from the folds of the gown. At her
+side, in a silken scabbard, hung a light, skilfully wrought kris. The
+handle was studded with gems.
+
+"Good-morning, Cho Seng," the woman greeted demurely.
+
+Cho Seng, making no reply, snapped the cane aside and leaped through.
+Koyala laughed again, her voice tinkling like silver bells. The
+Chinaman's laborious progress through the cane had amused her. She knew
+why he stepped so carefully.
+
+"Good-morning, Cho Seng," Koyala repeated. Her mocking dark brown eyes
+tried to meet his, but Cho Seng looked studiedly at the ground, in the
+affected humility of Oriental races.
+
+"Cho Seng here," he announced. "What for um you wantee me?" He spoke
+huskily; a physician would instantly have suspected he was tubercular.
+
+Koyala's eyes twinkled. A woman, she knew she was beautiful. Wherever
+she went, among whites or Malays, Chinese, or Papuans, she was admired.
+But from this stolid, unfathomable, menial Chinaman she had never been
+able to evoke the one tribute that every pretty woman, no manner how
+good, demands from man--a glance of admiration.
+
+"Cho Seng," she pouted, "you have not even looked at me. Am I so ugly
+that you cannot bear to see me?"
+
+"What for um you wantee me?" Cho Seng reiterated. His neck was crooked
+humbly so that his eyes did not rise above the hem of her sarong, and
+his hands were tucked inside the wide sleeves of his jacket. His voice
+was as meek and mild and inoffensive as his manner.
+
+Koyala laughed mischievously.
+
+"I asked you a question, Cho Seng," she pointed out.
+
+The Chinaman salaamed again, even lower than before. His face was
+imperturbable as he repeated in the same mild, disarming accents:
+
+"What for um you wantee me?"
+
+Koyala made a moue.
+
+"That isn't what I asked you, Cho Seng," she exclaimed petulantly.
+
+The Chinaman did not move a muscle. Silent, calm as a deep-sea bottom,
+his glance fixed unwaveringly on a little spot of black earth near
+Koyala's foot, he awaited her reply.
+
+Leveque's daughter shrugged her shoulders in hopeless resignation. Ever
+since she had known him she had tried to surprise him into expressing
+some emotion. Admiration, fear, grief, vanity, cupidity--on all these
+chords she had played without producing response. His imperturbability
+roused her curiosity, his indifference to her beauty piqued her, and,
+womanlike, she exerted herself to rouse his interest that she might
+punish him. So far she had been unsuccessful, but that only gave keener
+zest to the game. Koyala was half Dyak, she had in her veins the blood
+of the little brown brother who follows his enemy for months, sometimes
+years, until he brings home another dripping head to set on his
+lodge-pole. Patience was therefore her birthright.
+
+"Very well, Cho Seng, if you think I am ugly--" She paused and arched an
+eyebrow to see the effect of her words. Cho Seng's face was as rigid as
+though carved out of rock. When she saw he did not intend to dispute
+her, Koyala flushed and concluded sharply:
+
+"--then we will talk of other things. What has happened at the residency
+during the past week?"
+
+Cho Seng shot a furtive glance upward. "What for um?" he asked
+cautiously.
+
+"Oh, everything." Koyala spoke with pretended indifference. "Tell me,
+does your _baas_, the _mynheer_, ever mention me?"
+
+"Mynheer Muller belly much mad, belly much drink _jenever_ (gin), belly
+much say 'damn-damn, Cho Seng,'" the Chinaman grunted.
+
+Koyala's laughter rang out merrily in delicious peals that started the
+rain-birds and the gapers to vain emulation. Cho Seng hissed a warning
+and cast apprehensive glances about the jungle, but Koyala, mocking the
+birds, provoked a hubbub of furious scolding overhead and laughed again.
+
+"There's nobody near to hear us," she asserted lightly.
+
+"Mebbe him in bush," Cho Seng warned.
+
+"Not when the southeast monsoon ceases to blow," Koyala negatived.
+"Mynheer Muller loves his bed too well when our Bornean sun scorches us
+like to-day. But tell me what your master has been doing?"
+
+She snuggled into a more comfortable position on the root. Cho Seng
+folded his hands over his stomach.
+
+"Morning him sleep," he related laconically. "Him eat. Him speakee
+_orang kaya_, Wobanguli, drink _jenever_. Him speakee Kapitein Van
+Slyck, drink _jenever_. Him sleep some more. Bimeby when sun so-so--"
+Cho Seng indicated the position of the sun in late afternoon--"him go
+speakee Mynheer Blauwpot, eat some more. Bimeby come home, sleep. Plenty
+say 'damn-damn, Cho Seng.'"
+
+"Does he ever mention me?" Koyala asked. Her eyes twinkled coquettishly.
+
+"Plenty say nothing," Cho Seng replied.
+
+Koyala's face fell. "He doesn't speak of me at all?"
+
+Cho Seng shot a sidelong glance at her.
+
+"Him no speakee Koyala, him plenty drink _jenever_, plenty say
+'damn-damn, Cho Seng.'" He looked up stealthily to see the effect of his
+words.
+
+Koyala crushed a fern underfoot with a vicious dab of her sandaled toes.
+Something like the ghost of a grin crossed the Chinaman's face, but it
+was too well hidden for Koyala to see it.
+
+"How about Kapitein Van Slyck? Has he missed me?" Koyala asked. "It is a
+week since I have been at the residency. He must have noticed it."
+
+"Kapitein Van Slyck him no speakee Koyala," the Chinaman declared.
+
+Koyala looked at him sternly. "I cannot believe that, Cho Seng," she
+said. "The captain must surely have noticed that I have not been in
+Amsterdam. You are not telling me an untruth, are you, Cho Seng?"
+
+The Chinaman was meekness incarnate as he reiterated:
+
+"Him no speakee Koyala."
+
+Displeasure gathered on Koyala's face like a storm-cloud. She leaped
+suddenly from the aërial root and drew herself upright. At the same
+moment she seemed to undergo a curious transformation. The light,
+coquettish mood passed away like dabs of sunlight under a fitful April
+sky, an imperious light gleamed in her eyes and her voice rang with
+authority as she said:
+
+"Cho Seng, you are the eyes and the ears of Ah Sing in Bulungan--"
+
+The Chinaman interrupted her with a sibilant hiss. His mask of humility
+fell from him and he darted keen and angry glances about the cane.
+
+"When Koyala Bintang Burung speaks it is your place to listen, Cho
+Seng," Koyala asserted sternly. Her voice rang with authority. Under her
+steady glance the Chinaman's furtive eyes bushed themselves in his
+customary pose of irreproachable meekness.
+
+"You are the eyes and ears of Ah Sing in Bulungan," Koyala reaffirmed,
+speaking deliberately and with emphasis. "You know that there is a
+covenant between your master, your master in Batavia, and the council of
+the _orang kayas_ of the sea Dyaks of Bulungan, whereby the children of
+the sea sail in the proas of Ah Sing when the _Hanu Token_ come to
+Koyala on the night winds and tell her to bid them go."
+
+The Chinaman glanced anxiously about the jungle, fearful that a swaying
+cluster of cane might reveal the presence of an eavesdropper.
+
+"S-ss-st," he hissed.
+
+Koyala's voice hardened. "Tell your master this," she said. "The spirits
+of the highlands speak no more through the mouth of the Bintang Burung
+till the eyes and ears of Ah Sing become her eyes and ears, too."
+
+There was a significant pause. Cho Seng's face shifted and he looked at
+her slantwise to see how seriously he should take the declaration. What
+he saw undoubtedly impressed him with the need of promptly placating
+her, for he announced:
+
+"Cho Seng tellee Mynheer Muller Koyala go hide in bush--big _baas_ in
+Batavia say muchee damn-damn, give muchee gold for Koyala."
+
+The displeasure in Koyala's flushed face mounted to anger.
+
+"No, you cannot take credit for that, Cho Seng," she exclaimed sharply.
+"Word came to Mynheer Muller from the governor direct that a price of
+many guilders was put on my head."
+
+Her chin tilted scornfully. "Did you think Koyala was so blind that she
+did not see the gun-boat in Bulungan harbor a week ago to-day?"
+
+Cho Seng met her heat with Oriental calm.
+
+"Bang-bang boat, him come six-seven day ago," he declared. "Cho Seng,
+him speakee Mynheer Muller Koyala go hide in bush eight-nine day."
+
+"The gun-boat was in the harbor the morning Mynheer Muller told me,"
+Koyala retorted, and stopped in sudden recollection. A tiny flash of
+triumph lit the Chinaman's otherwise impassive face as he put her
+unspoken thought into words:
+
+"_Kapitein_ him bang-bang boat come see Mynheer Muller _namiddag_,"
+(afternoon) he said, indicating the sun's position an hour before
+sunset. "Mynheer Muller tellee Koyala _voormiddag_" (forenoon). He
+pointed to the sun's morning position in the eastern sky.
+
+"That is true," Koyala assented thoughtfully, and paused. "How did you
+hear of it?"
+
+Cho Seng tucked his hands inside his sleeves and folded them over his
+paunch. His neck was bent forward and his eyes lowered humbly. Koyala
+knew what the pose portended; it was the Chinaman's refuge in a silence
+that neither plea nor threat could break. She rapidly recalled the
+events of that week.
+
+"There was a junk from Macassar in Bulungan harbor two weeks--no, eleven
+days ago," she exclaimed. "Did that bring a message from Ah Sing?"
+
+A startled lift of the Chinaman's chin assured her that her guess was
+correct. Another thought followed swift on the heels of the first.
+
+"The same junk is in the harbor to-day--came here just before sundown
+last night," she exclaimed. "What message did it bring, Cho Seng?"
+
+The Chinaman's face was like a mask. His lips were compressed
+tightly--it was as though he defied her to wedge them open and to force
+him to reveal his secret. An angry sparkle lit Koyala's eyes for a
+moment, she stepped a pace toward him and her hand dropped to the hilt
+of the jeweled kris, then she stopped short. A fleeting look of cunning
+replaced the angry gleam; a half-smile came and vanished on her lips
+almost in the same instant.
+
+Her face lifted suddenly toward the leafy canopy. Her arms were flung
+upward in a supplicating gesture. The Chinaman, watching her from
+beneath his lowered brow, looked up in startled surprise. Koyala's form
+became rigid, a Galatea turned back to marble. Her breath seemed to
+cease, as though she was in a trance. The color left her face, left even
+her lips. Strangely enough, her very paleness made the Dyak umber in her
+cheeks more pronounced.
+
+Her lips parted. A low crooning came forth. The Chinaman's knees quaked
+and gave way as he heard the sound. His body bent from the waist till
+his head almost touched the ground.
+
+The crooning gradually took the form of words. It was the Malay tongue
+she spoke--a language Cho Seng knew. The rhythmic beating of his head
+against his knees ceased and he listened eagerly, with face half-lifted.
+
+"_Hanu Token, Hanu Token_, spirits of the highlands, whither are you
+taking me?" Koyala cried. She paused, and a deathlike silence followed.
+Suddenly she began speaking again, her figure swaying like a tall lily
+stalk in a spring breeze, her voice low-pitched and musically mystic
+like the voice of one speaking from a far distance.
+
+"I see the jungle, the jungle where the mother of rivers gushes out of
+the great smoking mountain. I see the pit of serpents in the jungle--"
+
+A trembling seized Cho Seng.
+
+"The serpents are hungry, they have not been fed, they clamor for the
+blood of a man. I see him whose foot is over the edge of the pit, he
+slips, he falls, he tries to catch himself, but the bamboo slips out of
+his clutching fingers--I see his face--it is the face of him whose
+tongue speaks double, it is the face of--"
+
+A horrible groan burst from the Chinaman. He staggered to his feet.
+
+"_Neen, neen, neen, neen_," he cried hoarsely in an agonized negative.
+"Cho Seng tellee Bintang Burung--"
+
+A tremulous sigh escaped from Koyala's lips. Her body shook as though
+swayed by the wind. Her eyes opened slowly, vacantly, as though she was
+awakening from a deep sleep. She looked at Cho Seng with an absent
+stare, seeming to wonder why he was there, why she was where she was.
+The Chinaman, made voluble through fear, chattered:
+
+"Him junk say big _baas gouverneur_ speakee muchee damn-damn; no gambir,
+no rice, no copra, no coffee from Bulungan one-two year; sendee new
+resident bimeby belly quick."
+
+Koyala's face paled.
+
+"Send a new resident?" she asked incredulously. "What of Mynheer
+Muller?"
+
+The look of fear left Cho Seng's face. Involuntarily his neck bent and
+his fingers sought each other inside the sleeves. There was cunning
+mingled with malice in his eyes as he looked up furtively and feasted on
+her manifest distress.
+
+"Him chop-chop," he announced laconically.
+
+"They will kill him?" Koyala cried.
+
+The Chinaman had said his word. None knew better than he the value of
+silence. He stood before her in all humbleness and calmly awaited her
+next word. All the while his eyes played on her in quick, cleverly
+concealed glances.
+
+Koyala fingered the handle of the kris as she considered what the news
+portended. Her face slowly hardened--there was a look in it of the
+tigress brought to bay.
+
+"Koyala bimeby mally him--Mynheer Muller, go hide in bush?" Cho Seng
+ventured. The question was asked with such an air of simple innocence
+and friendly interest that none could take offense.
+
+Koyala flushed hotly. Then her nose and chin rose high with pride.
+
+"The Bintang Burung will wed no man, Cho Seng," she declared haughtily.
+"The blood of Chawatangi dies in me, but not till Bulungan is purged of
+the _orang blanda_" (white race). She whipped the jeweled kris out of
+its silken scabbard. "When the last white man spills his heart on the
+coral shore and the wrongs done Chawatangi's daughter, my mother, have
+been avenged, then Koyala will go to join the _Hanu Token_ that call
+her, call her--"
+
+She thrust the point of the kris against her breast and looked upward
+toward the far-distant hills and the smoking mountain. A look of longing
+came into her eyes, the light of great desire, almost it seemed as if
+she would drive the blade home and join the spirits she invoked.
+
+With a sigh she lowered the point of the kris and slipped it back into
+its sheath.
+
+"No, Cho Seng," she said, "Mynheer Muller is nothing to me. No man will
+ever be anything to me. But your master has been a kind elder brother to
+Koyala. And like me, he has had to endure the shame of an unhappy
+birth." Her voice sank to a whisper. "For his mother, Cho Seng, as you
+know, was a woman of Celebes."
+
+She turned swiftly away that he might not see her face. After a moment
+she said in a voice warm with womanly kindness and sympathy:
+
+"Therefore you and I must take care of him, Cho Seng. He is weak, he is
+untruthful, he has made a wicked bargain with your master, Ah Sing,
+which the spirits of the hills tell me he shall suffer for, but he is
+only what his white father made him, and the _orang blanda_ must pay!"
+Her lips contracted grimly. "Ay, pay to the last drop of blood! You will
+be true to him, Cho Seng?"
+
+The Chinaman cast a furtive glance upward and found her mellow
+dark-brown eyes looking at him earnestly. The eyes seemed to search his
+very soul.
+
+"_Ja, ja_," he pledged.
+
+"Then go, tell the captain of the junk to sail quickly to Macassar and
+send word by a swift messenger to Ah Sing that he must let me know the
+moment a new resident is appointed. There is no wind and the sun is
+high; therefore the junk will still be in the harbor. Hurry, Cho Seng!"
+
+Without a word the Chinaman wheeled and shuffled down the woodland path
+that led from the clearing toward the main highway. Koyala looked after
+him fixedly.
+
+"If his skin were white he could not be more false," she observed
+bitterly. "But he is Ah Sing's slave, and Ah Sing needs me, so I need
+not fear him--yet."
+
+She followed lightly after Cho Seng until she could see the prim top of
+the residency building gleaming white through the trees. Then she
+stopped short. Her face darkened as the Dyak blood gathered thickly. A
+look of implacable hate and passion distorted it. Her eyes sought the
+distant hills:
+
+"_Hanu Token, Hanu Token_, send a young man here to rule Bulungan," she
+prayed. "Send a strong man, send a vain man, with a passion for fair
+women. Let me dazzle him with my beauty, let me fill his heart with
+longing, let me make his brain reel with madness, let me make his body
+sick with desire. Let me make him suffer a thousand deaths before he
+gasps his last breath and his dripping head is brought to thy temple in
+the hills. For the wrongs done Chawatangi's daughter, _Hanu Token_, for
+the wrongs done me!"
+
+With a low sob she fled inland through the cane.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+SACHSEN'S WARNING
+
+
+Electric tapers were burning dimly in Governor-General Van Schouten's
+sanctum at the _paleis_ that evening as Peter Gross was ushered in. The
+governor was seated in a high-backed, elaborately carved mahogany chair
+before a highly polished mahogany table. Beside him was the omniscient,
+the indispensable Sachsen. The two were talking earnestly in the Dutch
+language. Van Schouten acknowledged Peter Gross's entrance with a curt
+nod and directed him to take a chair on the opposite side of the table.
+
+At a word from his superior, Sachsen tucked the papers he had been
+studying into a portfolio. The governor stared intently at his visitor
+for a moment before he spoke.
+
+"Mynheer Gross," he announced sharply, "your captain tells me your
+contract with him runs to the end of the voyage. He will not release
+you."
+
+"Then I must fill my contract, your excellency," Peter Gross replied.
+
+Van Schouten frowned with annoyance. He was not accustomed to being
+crossed.
+
+"When will you be able to take over the administration of Bulungan,
+_mynheer_?"
+
+Peter Gross's brow puckered thoughtfully. "In three weeks--let us say
+thirty days, your excellency."
+
+"_Donder en bliksem!_" the governor exclaimed. "We need you there at
+once."
+
+"That is quite impossible, your excellency. I will need help, men that I
+can trust and who know the islands. Such men cannot be picked up in a
+day."
+
+"You can have the pick of my troops."
+
+"I should prefer to choose my own men, your excellency," Peter Gross
+replied.
+
+"Eh? How so, _mynheer_?" The governor's eyes glinted with suspicion.
+
+"Your excellency has been so good as to promise me a free hand," Peter
+Gross replied quietly. "I have a plan in mind--if your excellency
+desires to hear it?"
+
+Van Schouten's face cleared.
+
+"We shall discuss that later, _mynheer_. You will be ready to go the
+first of June, then?"
+
+"On the first of June I shall await your excellency's pleasure here at
+Batavia," Peter Gross agreed.
+
+"_Nu!_ that is settled!" The governor gave a grunt of satisfaction and
+squared himself before the table. His expression became sternly
+autocratic.
+
+"Mynheer Gross," he said, "you told us this afternoon some of the
+history of our unhappy residency of Bulungan. You demonstrated to our
+satisfaction a most excellent knowledge of conditions there. Some of the
+things you spoke of were--I may say--surprising. Some touched upon
+matters which we thought were known only to ourselves and to our privy
+council. But, _mynheer_, you did not mention one subject that to our
+mind is the gravest problem that confronts our representatives in
+Bulungan. Perhaps you do not know there is such a problem. Or perhaps
+you underestimate its seriousness. At any rate, we deem it desirable to
+discuss this matter with you in detail, that you may thoroughly
+understand the difficulties before you, and our wishes in the matter. We
+have requested Mynheer Sachsen to speak for us."
+
+He nodded curtly at his secretary.
+
+"You may proceed, Sachsen."
+
+Sachsen's white head, that had bent low over the table during the
+governor's rather pompous little speech, slowly lifted. His shrewd gray
+eyes twinkled kindly. His lips parted in a quaintly humorous and
+affectionate smile.
+
+"First of all, Vrind Pieter, let me congratulate you," he said,
+extending a hand across the table. Peter Gross's big paw closed over it
+with a warm pressure.
+
+"And let me thank you, Vrind Sachsen," he replied. "It was not hard to
+guess who brought my name to his excellency's attention."
+
+"It is Holland's good fortune that you are here," Sachsen declared. "Had
+you not been worthy, Vrind Pieter, I should not have recommended you."
+He looked at the firm, strong face and the deep, broad chest and massive
+shoulders of his protégé with almost paternal fondness.
+
+"To have earned your good opinion is reward enough in itself," Peter
+Gross asserted.
+
+Sachsen's odd smile, that seemed to find a philosophic humor in
+everything, deepened.
+
+"Your reward, Vrind Pieter," he observed, "is the customary recompense
+of the man who proves his wisdom and his strength--a more onerous duty.
+Bulungan will test you severely, _vrind_ (friend). Do you believe that?"
+
+"Ay," Peter Gross assented soberly.
+
+"Pray God to give you wisdom and strength," Sachsen advised gravely. He
+bowed his head for a moment, then stirred in his chair and sat up
+alertly.
+
+"_Nu!_ as to the work that lies before you, I need not tell you the
+history of this residency. For Sachsen to presume to instruct Peter
+Gross in what has happened in Bulungan would be folly. As great folly as
+to lecture a dominie on theology."
+
+Again the quaintly humorous quirk of the lips.
+
+"If Peter Gross knew the archipelago half so well as his good friend
+Sachsen he would be a lucky man," Peter Gross retorted spiritedly.
+
+Sachsen's face became suddenly grave.
+
+"We do not doubt your knowledge of conditions in our unhappy province,
+Vrind Pieter. Nor do we doubt your ability, your courage, or your sound
+judgment. But, Pieter--"
+
+He paused. The clear gray eyes of Peter Gross met his questioningly.
+
+"--You are young, Vrind Pieter."
+
+The governor rose abruptly and plucked down from the wall a
+long-stemmed Dutch pipe that was suspended by a gaily colored cord from
+a stout peg. He filled the big china bowl of the pipe with nearly a
+half-pound of tobacco, touched a light to the weed, and returned to his
+chair. There was a pregnant silence in the room meanwhile.
+
+"How old are you, Vrind Pieter?" Sachsen asked gently.
+
+"Twenty-five, _mynheer_," Peter Gross replied. There was a pronounced
+emphasis on the "_mynheer_."
+
+"Twenty-five," Sachsen murmured fondly. "Twenty-five! Just my age when I
+was a student at Leyden and the gayest young scamp of them all." He
+shook his head. "Twenty-five is very young, Vrind Pieter."
+
+"That is a misfortune which only time can remedy," Peter Gross replied
+drily.
+
+"Yes, only time." Sachsen's eyes misted. "Time that brings the days
+'when strong men shall bow themselves, and the grinders shall cease
+because they are few, and the grasshopper shall become a burden, and
+desire shall fail.' I wish you were older, Vrind Pieter."
+
+The old man sighed. There was a far-away look in his eyes as though he
+were striving to pierce the future and the leagues between Batavia and
+Bulungan.
+
+"Vrind Gross," he resumed softly, "we have known each other a long time.
+Eight years is a long time, and it is eight years since you first came
+to Batavia. You were a cabin-boy then, and you ran away from your
+master because he beat you. The wharfmaster at Tanjong Priok found you,
+and was taking you back to your master when old Sachsen saw you. Old
+Sachsen got you free and put you on another ship, under a good master,
+who made a good man and a good _zeeman_ (seaman) out of you. Do you
+remember?"
+
+"I shall never forget!" Peter Gross's voice was vibrant with emotion.
+
+"Old Sachsen was your friend then. He has been your friend through the
+years since then. He is your friend to-day. Do you believe that?"
+
+Peter Gross impulsively reached his hand across the table. Sachsen
+grasped it and held it.
+
+"Then to-night you will forgive old Sachsen if he speaks plainly to you,
+more plainly than you would let other men talk? You will listen, and
+take his words to heart, and consider them well, Pieter?"
+
+"Speak, Sachsen!"
+
+"I knew you would listen, Pieter." Sachsen drew a deep breath. His eyes
+rested fondly on his protégé, and he let go Gross's hand reluctantly as
+he leaned back in his chair.
+
+"Vrind Pieter, you said a little while ago that old Sachsen knows the
+people who live in these _kolonien_ (colonies). His knowledge is
+small--"
+
+Peter Gross made a gesture of dissent, but Sachsen did not let him
+interrupt.
+
+"Yet he has learned some things. It is something to have served the
+state for over two-score years in the Netherlands East Indies, first as
+_controlleur_, then as resident in Celebes, in Sumatra, in Java, and
+finally as secretary to the _gouverneur_, as old Sachsen has. In those
+years he has seen much that goes on in the hearts of the black, and the
+brown, and the yellow, and the white folk that live in these sun-seared
+islands. Much that is wicked, but also much that is good. And he has
+seen much of the fevers that seize men when the sun waves hot and the
+blood races madly through their veins. There is the fever of hate, and
+the fever of revenge, the fever of greed, and the fever to grasp God.
+But more universal than all these is the fever of love and the fever of
+lust!"
+
+Peter Gross's brow knit with a puzzled frown. "What do you mean,
+Sachsen?" he demanded.
+
+Sachsen smoothed back his thinning white hair.
+
+"I am an old, old man, Vrind Pieter," he replied "Desire has long ago
+failed me. The passions that our fiery Java suns breed in men have
+drained away. The light that is in a comely woman's eyes, the thrill
+that comes at a touch of her warm hand, the quickened pulse-beat at the
+feel of her silken hair brushing over one's face--all these things are
+ashes and dust to old Sachsen. Slim ankles, plump calves, and full
+rounded breasts mean nothing to him. But you, Vrind Pieter, are young.
+You are strong as a buffalo, bold as a tiger, vigorous as a banyan tree.
+You have a young man's warm blood in your veins. You have the poison of
+youth in your blood. You are a man's man, Peter Gross, but you are also
+a woman's man."
+
+Peter Gross's puzzled frown became a look of blank amazement. "What in
+the devil are you driving at, Sachsen?" he demanded, forgetting in his
+astonishment that he was in the governor's presence.
+
+Sachsen leaned forward, his eyes searching his protégé's.
+
+"Have you ever loved a woman, Pieter?" he countered softly.
+
+Peter Gross appeared to be choking. The veins in his forehead distended.
+
+"What has that to do with Bulungan?" he demanded. "You've known me since
+I was a lad, Sachsen; you've known all my comings and goings; why do you
+ask me such--rot?"
+
+A grimly humorous smile lit the governor's stern visage.
+
+"'Let the strong take heed lest they fall,'" Sachsen quoted quietly.
+"Since you say that you love no woman, let me ask you this--have you
+ever seen Koyala?"
+
+The little flash of passion left Peter Gross's face, but the puzzled
+frown remained.
+
+"Koyala," he repeated thoughtfully. "It seems to me I have heard the
+name, but I cannot recall how or when."
+
+"Think, think!" Sachsen urged, leaning eagerly over the table. "The
+half-white woman of Borneo, the French trader's daughter by a native
+woman, brought up and educated at a mission school in Sarawak. The Dyaks
+call her the _Bintang Burung_. Ha! I see you know her now."
+
+"Leveque's daughter, Chawatangi's grandchild?" Peter Gross exclaimed. "Of
+course I know her. Who doesn't?" His face sobered. "The unhappiest woman
+in the archipelago. I wonder she lives."
+
+"You have seen her?" Sachsen asked.
+
+Peter Gross's eyes twinkled reminiscently. "Ay, that I have."
+
+"Tell me about it," Sachsen urged, with an imperceptible gesture to the
+governor to say nothing. He leaned forward expectantly.
+
+Peter Gross cocked an eye at the ceiling. "Let me see, it was about a
+year ago," he said. "I was with McCloud, on the brig _Mary Dietrich_.
+McCloud heard at Macassar that there was a settlement of Dyaks at the
+mouth of the Abbas that wanted to trade in dammar gum and gambir and
+didn't ask too much _balas_ (tribute money). We crossed the straits and
+found the village. Wolang, the chief, gave us a big welcome. We spent
+one day palavering; these natives won't do anything without having a
+_bitchara_ first. The next morning I began loading operations, while
+McCloud entertained the _orang kaya_, Wolang, with a bottle of gin.
+
+"The natives crowded around pretty close, particularly the women,
+anxious to see what we were bringing ashore. One girl, quite a pretty
+girl, went so far as to step into the boat, and one of my men swung an
+arm around her and kissed her. She screamed."
+
+The governor took his pipe out of his mouth and looked up with interest.
+
+"The next minute the mob of Dyaks parted as though cut with a scythe.
+Down the lane came a woman, a white woman."
+
+He turned to the secretary. "You have seen her, Sachsen?"
+
+"_Ja_, Pieter."
+
+"Then you can guess how she keeled me over," Peter Gross said. "I took
+her for white woman, a pure blood. She is white; the brown in her skin
+is no deeper than in a Spaniard's. She walked up to me--I could see a
+hurricane was threatening--and she said:
+
+"'You are English? Go back to your ship, now; don't wait a minute, or
+you will leave your heads here.'
+
+"'Madam,' I said, 'the lad was hasty, but meant no harm. It will not
+happen again. I will make the lady a present.'
+
+"She turned a look on me that fairly withered me. '_You_ think you can
+buy our women, too?' she said, fairly spitting the words. 'Go! go! Don't
+you see my Dyaks fitting arrows in their blow-pipes?'
+
+"McCloud came running up with Chief Wolang. 'What's this?' he blustered,
+but Koyala only pointed to the sea and said the one word:
+
+"'Go!'
+
+"McCloud spoke to Wolang, but at a nod from Koyala the chief gave an
+order to his followers. Fifty Dyaks fitted poisoned arrows into their
+_sumpitans_. McCloud had good judgment; he knew when it was no use to
+_bitchara_ and show gin. We rowed back to the ship without the cargo we
+expected to load and set sail at once. Not an arrow followed us, but the
+last thing I saw of the village was Koyala on the beach, watching us dip
+into the big rollers of the Celebes Sea."
+
+"She is beautiful?" Sachsen suggested softly.
+
+"Ay, quite an attractive young female," Peter Gross agreed in utmost
+seriousness. The governor's grim smile threatened to break out into an
+open grin.
+
+Sachsen looked at the table-top thoughtfully and rubbed his hands. "She
+lost you a cargo," he stated. "You have a score to settle with her." He
+flashed a keen glance at his protégé.
+
+"By God, no!" Peter Gross exclaimed. He brought his fist down on the
+table. "She was right, eternally right. If a scoundrelly scum from over
+the sea tried to kiss a woman of my kin in that way I'd treat him a lot
+worse than we were treated."
+
+Van Schouten blew an angry snort that cut like a knife the huge cloud of
+tobacco-smoke in which he had enveloped himself. Peter Gross faced him
+truculently.
+
+"We deserved what we got," he asserted. "When we whites get over the
+notion that the world is a playground for us to spill our lusts and
+vices on and the lower races the playthings we can abuse as we please,
+we'll have peace in these islands. Our missionaries preach morals and
+Christianity; our traders, like that damned whelp, Leveque, break every
+law of God and man. Between the two the poor benighted heathen loses all
+the faith he has and sinks one grade lower in brutishness than his
+ancestors were before him. If all men were like Brooke of Sarawak we'd
+have had the East Indies Christianized by now. The natives were ready to
+make gods out of us--they did it with Brooke--but now they're looking
+for a chance to put a knife in our backs--a good many of them are."
+
+He checked himself. "Here I'm preaching. I beg your pardon, your
+excellency."
+
+Van Schouten blew another great cloud of tobacco-smoke and said nothing.
+Through the haze his eagle-keen eyes searched Peter Gross's face and
+noted the firm chin and tightly drawn lips with stern disapproval.
+Sachsen flashed him a warning glance to keep silent.
+
+"Mynheer Gross," the secretary entreated, "let me again beg the
+privileges of an old friend. Is it admiration for Koyala's beauty or
+your keen sense of justice that leads you to so warm a defense?"
+
+Peter Gross's reply was prompt and decisive.
+
+"Vrind Sachsen, if she had been a hag I'd have thought no different."
+
+"Search your heart, Vrind Pieter. Is it not because she was young and
+comely, a woman unafraid, that you remember her?"
+
+"Women are nothing to me," Peter Gross retorted irritably. "But right
+is right, and wrong is wrong, whether in Batavia or Bulungan."
+
+Sachsen shook his head.
+
+"Vrind Pieter," he declared sadly, "you make me very much afraid for
+you. If you had acknowledged, 'The woman was fair, a fair woman stirs me
+quickly,' I would have said: 'He is young and has eyes to see with, but
+he is too shrewd to be trapped.' But when you say: 'The fault was ours,
+we deserved to lose the cargo,' then I know that you are blind, blind to
+your own weakness, Pieter. Clever, wicked women make fools of such as
+you, Pieter."
+
+One eyebrow arched the merest trifle in the direction of the governor.
+Then Sachsen continued:
+
+"Vrind Pieter, I am here to-night to warn you against this woman. I have
+much to tell you about her, much that is unpleasant. Will you listen?"
+
+Peter Gross shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I am at your service, Sachsen."
+
+"Will you listen with an open mind? Will you banish from your thoughts
+all recollection of the woman you saw at the mouth of the Abbas River,
+all that you know or think you know of her fancied wrongs, and hear what
+old Sachsen has to say of the evil she has done, of the crimes, the
+piracies, ay, even rebellions and treasons for which she has been
+responsible? What do you say, Vrind Pieter?"
+
+Pieter Gross swallowed hard. Words seemed to be struggling to his lips,
+but he kept them back. His teeth were pressed together tightly, the
+silence became tense.
+
+"Listen, Sachsen," he finally said. His voice was studiedly calm. "You
+come from an old, conservative race, a race that clings faithfully to
+the precepts and ideals of its fathers and is certain of its footing
+before it makes a step in advance. You have the old concept of woman,
+that her lot is to bear, to suffer, and to weep. I come from a fresher,
+newer race, a race that gives its women the same liberty of thought and
+action that it gives its men. Therefore there are many things concerning
+the conduct of this woman that we look at in different ways. Things that
+seem improper, ay, sometimes treasonable, to you, seem a perfectly
+natural protest to me. You ignore the wrongs she has suffered, wrongs
+that must make life a living hell to her. You say she must be content
+with the place to which God has called her, submerge the white blood in
+her, and live a savage among savages."
+
+Peter Gross pulled his chair nearer the table and leaned forward. His
+face glowed with an intense earnestness.
+
+"Great Scot, Sachsen, think of her condition! Half white, ay, half
+French, and that is as proud a race as breathes. Beautiful--beautiful as
+the sunrise. Taught in a missionary school, brought up as a white child
+among white children. And then, when the glory of her womanhood comes
+upon her, to learn she is an illegitimate, a half-breed, sister to the
+savage Dyaks, her only future in their filthy huts, to kennel with them,
+breed with them--God, what a horror that revelation must have been!"
+
+He raked his fingers through his hair and stared savagely at the wall.
+
+"You don't feel these things, Sachsen," he concluded. "You're Dutch to
+begin with, and so a conservative thinker. Then you've been ground
+through the routine of colonial service so many years that you've lost
+every viewpoint except the state's expediency. Thank God, I haven't!
+That is why I think I can do something for you in Bulungan--"
+
+He checked himself. "Common sense and a little elemental justice go a
+long, long way in dealing with savages," he observed.
+
+Sachsen's eyes looked steadily into Peter Gross's. Sachsen's kindly
+smile did not falter. But the governor's patience had reached its limit.
+
+"Look you here, Mynheer Gross," he exclaimed, "I want no sympathy for
+that she-devil from my resident."
+
+An angry retort leaped to Peter Gross's lips, but before it could be
+uttered Sachsen's hand had leaped across the table and had gripped his
+warningly.
+
+"She may be as beautiful as a houri, but she is a witch, a very
+Jezebel," the governor stormed. "I have nipped a dozen uprisings in the
+bud, and this Koyala has been at the bottom of all of them. She hates us
+_orang blandas_ with a hate that the fires of hell could not burn out,
+but she is subtler than the serpent that taught Mother Eve. She has
+bewitched my _controlleur_; see that she does not bewitch you. I have
+put a price on her head; your first duty will be to see that she is
+delivered for safe-keeping here in Batavia."
+
+The governor's eyes were sparkling fire. There was a like anger in Peter
+Gross's face; he was on the point of speaking when Sachsen's nails dug
+so deeply into his hand that he winced.
+
+"Mynheer Gross is an American, therefore he is chivalrous," Sachsen
+observed. "He aims to be just, but there is much that he does not
+understand. If your excellency will permit me--"
+
+Van Schouten gave assent by picking up his pipe and closing his teeth
+viciously on the mouthpiece.
+
+Sachsen promptly addressed Peter Gross.
+
+"Vrind Pieter," he said, "I am glad you have spoken. Now we understand
+each other. You are just what I knew you were, fearless, honest, frank.
+You have convinced me the more that you are the man we must have as
+resident of Bulungan."
+
+Peter Gross looked up distrustfully. Van Schouten, too, evinced his
+surprise by taking the pipe from his mouth.
+
+"But," Sachsen continued, "you have the common failing of youth. Youth
+dreams dreams, it would rebuild this sorry world and make it Paradise
+before the snake. It is sure it can. With age comes disillusionment. We
+learn we cannot do the things we have set our hands to do in the way we
+planned. We learn we must compromise. Once old Sachsen had thoughts
+like yours. To-day"--he smiled tenderly--"he has the beginnings of
+wisdom. That is, he has learned that God ordains. Do you believe that,
+Vrind Pieter?"
+
+"Ay, of course," Peter Gross acknowledged, a trifle bewildered. "But--"
+
+"Now, concerning this woman," Sachsen cut in briskly. "We will concede
+that she was wronged before she was born. We will concede the sin of her
+father. We will concede his second sin, leaving her mother to die in the
+jungle. We will concede the error, if error it was, to educate Koyala in
+a mission school among white children. We will concede the fatal error
+of permitting her to return to her own people, knowing the truth of her
+birth."
+
+His voice took a sharper turn.
+
+"But there are millions of children born in your own land, in my land,
+in every land, with deformed bodies, blind perhaps, crippled, with faces
+uglier than baboons. Why? Because one or both of their parents sinned.
+Now I ask you," he demanded harshly, "whether these children, because of
+the sin of their parents, have the right to commit crimes, plot murders,
+treasons, rebellions, and stir savage people to wars of extermination
+against their white rulers? What is your answer?"
+
+"That is not the question," Peter Gross began, but Sachsen interrupted.
+
+"It is the question. It was the sin of the parent in both cases. Leveque
+sinned; his daughter, Koyala, suffers. Parents sin everywhere, their
+children must suffer."
+
+Peter Gross stared at the wall thoughtfully.
+
+"Look you here, Vrind Pieter," Sachsen said, "learn this great truth.
+The state is first, then the individual. Always the good of the whole
+people, that is the state, first, then the good of the individual.
+Thousands may suffer, thousands may die, but if the race benefits, the
+cost is nothing. This law is as old as man. Each generation says it a
+new way, but the law is the same. And so with this Koyala. She was
+wronged, we will admit it. But she cannot be permitted to make the whole
+white race pay for those wrongs and halt progress in Borneo for a
+generation. She will have justice; his excellency is a just man. But
+first there must be peace in Bulungan. There must be no more plottings,
+no more piracies, no more head-hunting. The spear-heads must be
+separated from their shafts, the krisses must be buried, the _sumpitans_
+must be broken in two. If Koyala will yield, this can be done. If you
+can persuade her to trust us, Pieter, half your work is done. Bulungan
+will become one of our fairest residencies, its trade will grow, the
+piracies will be swept from the seas, and the days of head-hunting will
+become a tradition."
+
+Peter Gross bowed his head.
+
+"God help me, I will," he vowed.
+
+"But see that she does not seduce you, Vrind Pieter," the old man
+entreated earnestly. "You are both young, she is fair, and she is a
+siren, a vampire. Hold fast to your God, to your faith, to the oath you
+take as a servant of the state, and do not let her beauty blind you--no,
+nor your own warm heart either, Pieter."
+
+Sachsen rose. There were tears in his eyes as he looked fondly down at
+the young man that owed so much to him.
+
+"Pieter," he said, "old Sachsen will pray for you. I must leave you now,
+Pieter; the governor desires to talk to you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE PIRATE LEAGUE
+
+
+As Sachsen left the room the governor snapped shut the silver cap on the
+porcelain bowl of his pipe and regretfully laid the pipe aside.
+
+"_Nu_, Mynheer Gross, what troops will you need?" he asked in a
+business-like manner. "I have one thousand men here in Java that you may
+have if you need them. For the sea there is the gun-boat, _Prins
+Lodewyk_, and the cutter, _Katrina_, both of which I place at your
+disposal."
+
+"I do not need a thousand men, your excellency," Peter Gross replied
+quietly.
+
+"Ha! I thought not!" the governor exclaimed with satisfaction. "An army
+is useless in the jungle. Let them keep their crack troops in the
+Netherlands and give me a few hundred irregulars who know the cane and
+can bivouac in the trees if they have to. Your Amsterdammer looks well
+enough on parade, but his skin is too thin for our mosquitoes. But that
+is beside the question. Would five hundred men be enough, Mynheer Gross?
+We have a garrison of fifty at Bulungan."
+
+Peter Gross frowned reflectively at the table-top.
+
+"I would not need five hundred men, your excellency," he announced.
+
+The governor's smile broadened. "You know more about jungle warfare
+than I gave you credit for, Mynheer Gross," he complimented. "But I
+should have known that the rescuer of Lieutenant de Koren was no novice.
+Only this morning I remarked to General Vanden Bosch that a capable
+commander and three hundred experienced bush-fighters are enough to
+drive the last pirate out of Bulungan and teach our Dyaks to cultivate
+their long-neglected plantations. What say you to three hundred of our
+best colonials, _mynheer_?"
+
+"I will not need three hundred men, your excellency," Peter Gross
+declared.
+
+Van Schouten leaned back in surprise.
+
+"Well, Mynheer Gross, how large a force will you need?"
+
+Peter Gross's long, ungainly form settled lower in his chair. His legs
+crossed and his chin sagged into the palm of his right hand. The fingers
+pulled gently at his cheeks. After a moment's contemplation he looked up
+to meet the governor's inquiring glance and remarked:
+
+"Your excellency, I shall need about twenty-five men."
+
+Van Schouten stared at him in astonishment.
+
+"Twenty-five men, Mynheer Gross!" he exclaimed. "What do you mean?"
+
+"Twenty-five men, men like I have in mind, will be all I will need, your
+excellency," Peter Gross assured gravely.
+
+Van Schouten edged his chair nearer. "Mynheer Gross, do you understand
+me correctly?" he asked doubtfully. "I would make you resident of
+Bulungan. I would give you supreme authority in the province. The
+commandant, Captain Van Slyck, would be subject to your orders. You will
+be answerable only to me."
+
+"Under no other conditions would I accept your excellency's
+appointment," Peter Gross declared.
+
+"But, Mynheer Gross, what can twenty-five do? Bulungan has more than one
+hundred thousand inhabitants, few of whom have ever paid a picul of rice
+or kilo of coffee as tax to the crown. On the coast there are the
+Chinese pirates, the Bugi outlaws from Macassar and their traitorous
+allies, the coast Dyaks of Bulungan, of Tidoeng, and Pasir, ay, as far
+north as Sarawak, for those British keep their house in no better order
+than we do ours. In the interior we have the hill Dyaks, the worst
+thieves and cut-throats of them all. But these things you know. I ask
+you again, what can twenty-five do against so many?"
+
+"With good fortune, bring peace to Bulungan," Peter Gross replied
+confidently.
+
+The governor leaned aggressively across the table and asked the one-word
+pointed question:
+
+"How?"
+
+Peter Gross uncrossed his legs and tugged gravely at his chin.
+
+"Your excellency," he said, "I have a plan, not fully developed as yet,
+but a plan. As your excellency well knows, there are two nations of
+Dyaks in the province. There are the hillmen--"
+
+"Damned thieving, murdering, head-hunting scoundrels!" the governor
+growled savagely.
+
+"So your excellency has been informed. But I believe that much of the
+evil that is said of them is untrue. They are savages, wilder savages
+than the coast Dyaks, and less acquainted with _blanken_ (white men).
+Many of them are head-hunters. But they have suffered cruelly from the
+coast Dyaks, with whom, as your excellency has said, they have an
+eternal feud."
+
+"They are pests," the governor snarled. "They keep the lowlands in a
+continual turmoil with their raids. We cannot grow a blade of rice on
+account of them."
+
+"That is where your excellency and I must disagree," Peter Gross
+asserted quietly.
+
+"Ha!" the governor exclaimed incredulously. "What do you say, Mynheer
+Gross?"
+
+"Your excellency, living in Batavia, you have seen only one side of this
+question, the side your underlings have shown you. With your
+excellency's permission I shall show you another side, the side a
+stranger, unprejudiced, with no axes to grind either way, saw in his
+eight years of sailoring about these islands. Have I your excellency's
+permission?"
+
+A frown gathered on the governor's face. His thin lips curled, and his
+bristly mane rose belligerently.
+
+"Proceed," he snapped.
+
+Peter Gross rested his elbows on the table and leaned toward the
+governor.
+
+"Your excellency," he began, "let it be understood that I bring no
+accusations to-night; that we are speaking as man to man. I go to
+Bulungan to inquire into the truth of the things I have heard. Whatever
+I learn shall be faithfully reported to your excellency."
+
+Van Schouten nodded curtly.
+
+"Your excellency has spoken of the unrest in Bulungan," Peter Gross
+continued. "Your excellency also spoke of piracies committed in these
+seas. It is my belief, your excellency, that the government has been
+mistaken in assuming that there is no connection between the two. I am
+satisfied that there is a far closer union and a better understanding
+between the Dyaks and the pirates than has ever been dreamed of here in
+Batavia."
+
+The governor smiled derisively.
+
+"You are mistaken, Mynheer Gross," he contradicted. "I almost believed
+so, too, at one time, and I had Captain Van Slyck, our commandant at
+Bulungan, investigate for me. I have his report here. I shall be glad to
+let you read it."
+
+He tapped a gong. In a moment Sachsen bustled in.
+
+"Sachsen," the governor said, "Kapitein Van Slyck's report on the
+pirates of the straits, if you please."
+
+Sachsen bowed and withdrew.
+
+"I shall be glad to read the captain's report," Peter Gross assured
+gravely. A grimly humorous twinkle lurked in his eyes. The governor was
+quick to note it.
+
+"But it will not convince you, eh, _mynheer_?" he challenged. He smiled.
+"You Yankees are an obstinate breed--almost as stubborn as we Dutch."
+
+"I am afraid that the captain's report will not cover things I know,"
+Peter Gross replied. "Yet I have no doubt it will be helpful."
+
+The subtle irony his voice expressed caused the governor to look at him
+quizzically, but Van Schouten was restrained from further inquiry by the
+return of Sachsen with the report. The governor glanced at the
+superscription and handed the document to Peter Gross with the remark:
+"Read that at your leisure. I will have Sachsen make you a copy."
+
+Peter Gross pocketed the report with a murmured word of thanks. The
+governor frowned, trying to recollect where the thread of conversation
+had been broken, and then remarked:
+
+"As I say, Mynheer Gross, I am sure you will find yourself mistaken. The
+Dyaks are thieves and head-hunters, a treacherous breed. They do not
+know the meaning of loyalty--God help us if they did! No two villages
+have ever yet worked together for a common aim. As for the pirates, they
+are wolves that prey on everything that comes in their path. Some of the
+_orang kayas_ may be friendly with them, but as for there being any
+organization--bah! it is too ridiculous to even discuss it."
+
+Peter Gross's lips pressed a little tighter.
+
+"Your excellency," he replied with perfect equanimity, "you have your
+opinion and I have mine. My work in Bulungan, I hope, will show which
+of us is right. Yet I venture to say this. Before I have left Bulungan I
+shall be able to prove to your excellency that one man, not so very far
+from your excellency's _paleis_ at this moment, has united the majority
+of the sea Dyaks and the pirates into a formidable league of which he is
+the head. More than this, he has established a system of espionage which
+reaches into this very house."
+
+Van Schouten stared at Peter Gross in amazement and incredulity.
+
+"Mynheer Gross," he finally exclaimed, "this is nonsense!"
+
+Peter Gross's eyes flashed. "Your excellency," he retorted, "it is the
+truth."
+
+"What proofs have you?" the governor demanded.
+
+"None at present that could convince your excellency," Peter Gross
+admitted frankly. "All I have is a cumulative series of instances,
+unrelated in themselves, scraps of conversations picked up here and
+there, little things that have come under my observation in my sojourns
+in many ports of the archipelago. But in Bulungan I expect to get the
+proofs. When I have them, I shall give them to your excellency, that
+justice may be done. Until then I make no charges. All I say is--guard
+carefully what you would not have your enemies know."
+
+"This is extraordinary," the governor remarked, impressed by Peter
+Gross's intense earnestness. "Surely you do not expect me to believe all
+this on your unsupported word, _mynheer_?"
+
+"The best corroboration which I can offer is that certain matters which
+your excellency thought were known only to himself are now common gossip
+from Batavia to New Guinea," Peter Gross replied.
+
+The governor's head drooped. His face became drawn. Lines formed where
+none had been before. The jauntiness, the pompous self-assurance, and
+the truculence that so distinguished him among his fellows disappeared
+from his mien; it was as though years of anxiety and care had suddenly
+passed over him.
+
+"This discussion brings us nowhere, Mynheer Gross," he wearily remarked.
+"Let us decide how large a force you should have. What you have told me
+convinces me the more that you will need at least two hundred men. I
+hesitate to send you with less than a regiment."
+
+"Let me deal with this situation in my own way, your excellency," Peter
+Gross pleaded. "I believe that just dealing will win the confidence of
+the upland Dyaks. Once that is done, the rest is easy. Twenty-five men,
+backed by the garrison at Bulungan and the hill Dyaks, will be able to
+break up the pirate bands, if the navy does its share. After that the
+problem is one of administration, to convince the coast Dyaks that the
+state is fair, that the state is just, and that the state's first
+thought is the welfare of her people, be they brown, black, or white."
+
+"You think twenty-five men can do all that?" the governor asked
+doubtfully.
+
+"The men I shall choose can, your excellency. They will be men whom I
+can trust absolutely, who have no interests except the service of Peter
+Gross."
+
+"Where will you find them, _mynheer_?"
+
+"Here in Java, your excellency. Americans. Sailors who have left the
+sea. Men who came here to make their fortunes and failed and are too
+proud to go back home. Soldiers from the Philippines, adventurers, lads
+disappointed in love. I could name you a dozen such here in Batavia
+now."
+
+The governor looked at his new lieutenant long and thoughtfully.
+
+"Do as you deem best, _mynheer_. It may be God has sent you here to
+teach us why we have failed. Is there anything else you need, besides
+the usual stores?"
+
+"There is one more request I wish to make of your excellency," Peter
+Gross replied.
+
+"And that is--"
+
+"That your excellency cancel the reward offered for the arrest of
+Leveque's daughter."
+
+Van Schouten stroked his brow with a gesture of infinite weariness.
+
+"You make strange requests, _mynheer_," he observed. "Yet I am moved to
+trust you. What you ask shall be done."
+
+He rose to signify that the interview was at an end. "You may make your
+requisitions through Sachsen, _mynheer_. God speed you and give you
+wisdom beyond your years."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+MYNHEER MULLER WORRIES
+
+
+Seated in a low-framed rattan chair on the broad veranda of his cottage,
+Mynheer Hendrik Muller, _controlleur_, and acting resident of Bulungan,
+awaited in perspiring impatience the appearance of his military
+associate, Captain Gerrit Van Slyck.
+
+State regulations required daily conferences, that the civil arm of the
+government might lay its commands upon the military and the military
+make its requisitions upon the civil. An additional incentive to prompt
+attendance upon these was that _mynheer_ the resident rarely failed to
+produce a bottle of Hollands, which, compounded with certain odorous and
+acidulated products of the tropics, made a drink that cooled the fevered
+brow and mellowed the human heart, made a hundred and twenty in the
+shade seem like seventy, and chased away the home-sickness of folk
+pining for the damp and fog of their native Amsterdam.
+
+It was no urgent affair of state, however, that made Muller fume and
+fuss like a washerwoman on a rainy Monday at Van Slyck's dilatoriness. A
+bit of gossip, casually dropped by the master of a trading schooner who
+had called for clearance papers an hour before, was responsible for his
+agitation.
+
+"When does your new resident arrive?" the visiting skipper had asked.
+
+"The new resident?" Muller returned blankly. "What new resident?"
+
+The skipper perceived that he was the bearer of unpleasant tidings and
+diplomatically minimized the importance of his news.
+
+"Somebody down to Batavia told me you were going to have a new resident
+here," he replied lightly. "It's only talk, I s'pose. You hear so many
+yarns in port."
+
+"There is nothing official--yet," Muller declared. He had the air of one
+who could tell much if he chose. But when the sailor had gone back to
+his ship he hurriedly sent Cho Seng to the stockade with an urgent
+request to Van Slyck to come to his house at once.
+
+Van Slyck was putting the finishing touches to an exquisite toilet when
+he received the message.
+
+"What ails the doddering old fool now?" he growled irritably as he read
+Muller's appeal. "Another Malay run amuck, I suppose. Every time a few
+of these _bruinevels_ (brown-skins) get krissed he thinks the whole
+province is going to flame into revolt."
+
+Tossing the note into an urn, he leisurely resumed his dressing. It was
+not until he was carefully barbered, his hair shampooed and perfumed,
+his nails manicured, and his mustache waxed and twisted to the exact
+angle that a two-months old French magazine of fashion dictated as the
+mode, that the dapper captain left the stockade. He was quite certain
+that the last living representative of the ancient house of Van Slyck of
+Amsterdam would never be seen in public in dirty linen and unwashed,
+regardless how far _mynheer the controlleur_ might forget his
+self-respect and the dignity of his office.
+
+Van Slyck was leisurely strolling along the tree-lined lane that led
+from the iron-wood stockade to the cluster of houses colloquially
+designated "Amsterdam" when the impatient Muller perceived his approach.
+
+"Devil take the man, why doesn't he hurry?" the _controlleur_ swore.
+With a peremptory gesture he signaled Van Slyck to make haste.
+
+"By the beard of Nassau," the captain exclaimed. "Does that swine think
+he can make a Van Slyck skip like a butcher's boy? Things have come to a
+pretty pass in the colonies when a Celebes half-breed imagines he can
+make the best blood of Amsterdam fetch and carry for him."
+
+Deliberately turning his back on the _controlleur_, he affected to
+admire the surpassingly beautiful bay of Bulungan, heaven's own blue
+melting into green on the shingly shore, with a thousand sabres of
+iridescent foam stabbing the morning horizon. Muller was fuming when the
+commandant finally sauntered on the veranda, selected a fat, black cigar
+from the humidor, and gracefully lounged in an easy chair.
+
+"_Donder en bliksem! kapitein_, but you lie abed later every morning,"
+he growled.
+
+Van Slyck's thin lips curled with aristocratic scorn.
+
+"We cannot all be such conscientious public servants as you, _mynheer_,"
+he observed ironically.
+
+Muller was in that state of nervous agitation that a single jarring word
+would have roused an unrestricted torrent of abuse. Fortunately for Van
+Slyck, however, he was obtuse to irony. He took the remark literally and
+for the moment, like oil on troubled waters, it calmed the rising tide
+of his wrath at what he deemed the governor-general's black ingratitude.
+
+"Well, _kapitein, gij kebt gelijk_ (you are right, captain)" he assented
+heavily. The blubbery folds under his chin crimsoned with his cheeks in
+complacent self-esteem. "There are not many men who would have done so
+well as I have under the conditions I had to face--under the conditions
+I had to face--_kapitein_. _Ja!_ Not many men. I have worked and slaved
+to build up this residency. For two years now I have done a double
+duty--I have been both resident and _controlleur_. _Jawel!_"
+
+Recollection of the skipper's unpleasant news recurred to him. His face
+darkened like a tropic sky before a cloudburst.
+
+"And what is my reward, _kapitein_? What is my reward? To have some
+_Amsterdamsche papegaai_ (parrot) put over me." His fist came down
+wrathily on the arm of his chair. "Ten thousand devils! It is enough to
+make a man turn pirate."
+
+Van Slyck's cynical face lit with a sudden interest.
+
+"You have heard from Ah Sing?" he inquired.
+
+"Ah Sing? No. _Drommel noch toe!_" Muller swore. "Who mentioned Ah Sing?
+That thieving Deutscher who runs the schooner we had in port over-night
+told me this not an hour ago. The whole of Batavia knows it. They are
+talking it in every _rumah makan_. And we sit here and know nothing.
+That is the kind of friends we have in Batavia."
+
+Van Slyck, apprehensive that the impending change might affect him,
+speculated swiftly how much the _controlleur_ knew.
+
+"It is strange that Ah Sing hasn't let us know," he remarked.
+
+"Ah Sing?" Muller growled. "Ah Sing? That bloodsucker is all for
+himself. He would sell us out to Van Schouten in a minute if he thought
+he saw any profit in it. _Ja!_ I have even put money into his ventures,
+and this is how he treats me."
+
+"Damnably, I must say," Van Slyck agreed sympathetically. "That is, if
+he knows."
+
+"If he knows, _mynheer kapitein_? Of course he knows. Has he not
+_agenten_ in every corner of this archipelago? Has he not a spy in the
+_paleis_ itself?"
+
+"He should have sent us word," Van Slyck agreed. "Unless _mynheer_, the
+new resident, is one of us. Who did you say it is, _mynheer_?"
+
+"How the devil should I know?" Muller growled irritably. "All I know is
+what I told you--that the whole of Batavia says Bulungan is to have a
+new resident."
+
+Van Slyck's face fell. He had hoped that the _controlleur_ knew at least
+the identity of the new executive of the province. Having extracted all
+the information Muller had, he dropped the cloak of sympathy and
+remarked with cool insolence:
+
+"Since you don't know, I think you had better make it your business to
+find out, _mynheer_."
+
+Muller looked at him doubtfully. "You might make an effort also,
+_kapitein_," he suggested. "You have friends in Batavia. It is your
+concern as well as mine, a new resident would ruin our business."
+
+"I don't think he will," Van Slyck replied coolly. "If he isn't one of
+us he won't bother us long. Ah Sing won't let any prying reformer
+interfere with business while the profits are coming in as well as they
+are."
+
+A shadow of anxiety crossed Muller's face. He cast a troubled look at
+Van Slyck, who affected to admire the multi-tinted color display of
+jungle, sun, and sea.
+
+"What--what do you mean, _kapitein_?" he asked hesitantly.
+
+"People sometimes begin voyages they do not finish," Van Slyck observed.
+"A man might eat a pomegranate that didn't agree with him--pouf--the
+colic, and it is all over. There is nothing so uncertain as life,
+_mynheer_."
+
+The captain replaced his cigar between his teeth with a flourish.
+Muller's pudgy hands caught each other convulsively. The folds under his
+chin flutterred. He licked his lips before he spoke.
+
+"_Kapitein_--you mean he might come to an unhappy end on the way?" he
+faltered.
+
+"Why not?" Van Slyck concentrated his attention on his cigar.
+
+"_Neen, neen_, let us have no bloodshed," Muller vetoed anxiously. "We
+have had enough--" He looked around nervously as though he feared
+someone might be overhearing him. "Let him alone. We shall find some way
+to get rid of him. But let there be no killing."
+
+Van Slyck turned his attention from the landscape to the _controlleur_.
+There was a look in the captain's face that made Muller wince and shift
+his eyes, a look of cyincal contempt, calm, frank, and unconcealed. It
+was the mask lifting, for Van Slyck despised his associate. Bold and
+unscrupulous, sticking at nothing that might achieve his end, he had no
+patience with the timid, faltering, often conscience-stricken
+_controlleur_.
+
+"Well, _mynheer_," Van Slyck observed at length, "you are getting
+remarkably thin-skinned all of a sudden."
+
+He laughed sardonically. Muller winced and replied hastily:
+
+"I have been thinking, _kapitein_, that the proa crews have been doing
+too much killing lately. I am going to tell Ah Sing that it must be
+stopped. There are other ways--we can unload the ships and land their
+crews on some island--"
+
+"To starve, or to be left to the tender mercies of the Bajaus and the
+Bugis," Van Slyck sneered. "That would be more tender-hearted. You would
+at least transfer the responsibility."
+
+Muller's agitation became more pronounced.
+
+"But we must not let it go on, _kapitein_," he urged. "It hurts the
+business. Pretty soon we will have an investigation, one of these
+gun-boats will pick up one of our proas, somebody will tell, and what
+will happen to us then?"
+
+"We'll be hung," Van Slyck declared succinctly.
+
+Muller's fingers leaped in an involuntary frantic gesture to his throat,
+as though he felt cords tightening around his windpipe. His face paled.
+
+"_Lieve hemel, kapitein_, don't speak of such things," he gasped.
+
+"Then don't talk drivel," Van Slyck snarled. "You can't make big profits
+without taking big chances. And you can't have piracy without a little
+blood-letting. We're in this now, and there's no going back. So stop
+your squealing."
+
+Settling back into his chair, he looked calmly seaward and exhaled huge
+clouds of tobacco smoke. The frown deepened on Muller's troubled brow as
+he stared vacantly across the crushed coral-shell highway.
+
+"You can think of no reason why his excellency should be offended with
+us, _kapitein_?" he ventured anxiously.
+
+The _controlleur's_ eagerness to include him in his misfortune,
+evidenced by the use of the plural pronoun, evoked a sardonic flicker in
+Van Slyck's cold, gray eyes.
+
+"No, _mynheer_, I cannot conceive why the governor should want to get
+rid of so valuable a public servant as you are," he assured ironically.
+"You have certainly done your best. There have been a few disturbances,
+of course, some head-hunting, and the taxes have not been paid, but
+outside of such minor matters everything has done well, very well
+indeed."
+
+"_Donder en bliksem_," Muller exclaimed, "how can I raise taxes when
+those Midianites, the hill Dyaks, will not let my coast Dyaks grow a
+spear of rice? Has there been a month without a raid? Answer me,
+_kapitein_. Have you spent a whole month in the stockade without being
+called to beat back some of these thieving plunderers and drive them
+into their hills?"
+
+The sardonic smile flashed across Van Slyck's face again.
+
+"Quite true, _mynheer_. But sometimes I don't know if I blame the poor
+devils. They tell me they're only trying to get even because your coast
+Dyaks and Ah Sing's crowd rob them so. Ah Sing must be making quite a
+profit out of the slave business. I'll bet he shipped two hundred to
+China last year."
+
+He glanced quizzically at his associate.
+
+"By the way, _mynheer_," he observed, "you ought to know something about
+that. I understand you get a per cent on it."
+
+"I?" Muller exclaimed, and looked affrightedly about him. "I,
+_kapitein_?"
+
+"Oh, yes you do," Van Slyck asserted airily. "You've got money invested
+with Ah Sing in two proas that are handling that end of the business.
+And it's the big end just now. The merchandise pickings are small, and
+that is all I share in."
+
+He looked at Muller meaningly. There was menace in his eyes and menace
+in his voice as he announced:
+
+"I'm only mentioning this, _mynheer_, so that if the new resident should
+happen to be one of us, with a claim to the booty, his share comes out
+of your pot, not mine. Remember that!"
+
+For once cupidity overcame Muller's fear of the sharp-witted cynical
+soldier.
+
+"_Wat de drommel_," he roared, "do you expect me to pay all, _kapitein_,
+all? Not in a thousand years! If there must be a division you shall give
+up your per cent as well as I, _stuiver_ for _stuiver_, _gulden_ for
+_gulden_!"
+
+A hectic spot glowed in each of Van Slyck's cheeks, and his eyes
+glittered. Muller's anger rose.
+
+"Ah Sing shall decide between us," he cried heatedly. "You cannot rob me
+in that way, _kapitein_."
+
+Van Slyck turned on his associate with an oath. "Ah Sing be damned.
+We'll divide as I say, or--"
+
+The pause was more significant than words. Muller's ruddy face paled.
+Van Slyck tapped a forefinger significantly on the arm of his chair.
+
+"Just remember, if the worst comes to the worst, there's this one
+difference between you and me, _mynheer_. I'm not afraid to die, and
+you--are!" He smiled.
+
+Muller's breath came thickly, and he stared fascinatedly into the
+evilly handsome face of the captain, whose eyes were fixed on his with a
+basilisk glare. Several seconds passed; then Van Slyck said:
+
+"See that you remember these things, _mynheer_, when our next accounting
+comes."
+
+The silence that followed was broken by the rhythmic pad-pad of wicker
+sandals on a bamboo floor. Cho Seng came on the veranda, bearing a tray
+laden with two glasses of finest crystal and a decanter of colorless
+liquid, both of which he placed on a small porch table. Drops of dew
+formed thickly on the chilled surface of the decanter and rolled off
+while the Chinaman mixed the juices of fruits and crushed leaves with
+the potent liquor. The unknown discoverer of the priceless recipe he
+used receives more blessings in the Indies daily than all the saints on
+the calendar. When Cho Seng had finished, he withdrew. Muller swallowed
+the contents of his glass in a single gulp. Van Slyck sipped leisurely.
+Gradually the tension lessened. After a while, between sips, the captain
+remarked:
+
+"I hear you have a chance to pick up some prize money."
+
+Muller looked up with interest. "So, _kapitein_!" he exclaimed with
+forced jocularity. "Have you found a place where guilders grow on
+trees?"
+
+"Almost as good as that," Van Slyck replied, playing his fish.
+
+Finesse and indirection were not Muller's forte. "Well, tell us about
+it, _kapitein_," he demanded bluntly.
+
+Van Slyck's eyes twinkled.
+
+"Catch Koyala," he replied.
+
+The captain's meaning sank into Muller's mind slowly. But as
+comprehension began to dawn upon him, his face darkened. The veins
+showed purple under the ruddy skin.
+
+"You are too clever this morning, _kapitein_," he snarled. "Let me
+remind you that this is your duty. The _controlleur_ sits as judge, he
+does not hunt the accused."
+
+Van Slyck laughed.
+
+"And let me remind you, _mynheer_, that I haven't received the
+governor's orders as yet, although they reached you more than a week
+ago." Ironically he added: "You must not let your friendship with Koyala
+blind you to your public duties, _mynheer_."
+
+Muller's face became darker still. He had not told any one, and the fact
+that the orders seemed to be public property both alarmed and angered
+him.
+
+"How did you hear of it?" he demanded.
+
+"Not from you, _mynheer_," Van Slyck mocked. "I really do not remember
+who told me." (As a matter of fact it was Wang Fu, the Chinese
+merchant.)
+
+Muller reflected that officers from the gun-boat which carried Van
+Schouten's mandate might have told more than they should have at the
+stockade. But Koyala had received his warning a full week before, so she
+must be safely hidden in the jungle by now, he reasoned. Pulling himself
+together, he replied urbanely:
+
+"Well, _kapitein_, it is true that I have rather neglected that matter.
+I intended to speak to you to-day. His excellency orders Koyala Bintang
+Burung's arrest."
+
+"The argus pheasant," Van Slyck observed, "is rarely shot. It must be
+trapped."
+
+"_Nu, kapitein_, that is a chance for you to distinguish yourself,"
+Muller replied heartily, confident that Van Slyck could never land
+Koyala.
+
+Van Slyck flecked the ash from his cigar and looked at the glowing coal
+thoughtfully.
+
+"It seems to me that you might be of material assistance, _mynheer_," he
+observed.
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"I have noticed that the witch-woman is not--er--" He glanced at Muller
+quizzically, wondering how far he might venture to go--"not altogether
+indifferent to you."
+
+Muller drew a deep breath. His ruddy face became a grayish purple. His
+clenched hands gripped each other until the bones crunched and the veins
+stood in ridges. Drops of perspiration gathered on his forehead, he
+wiped them away mechanically.
+
+"_Kapitein!_" he gasped.
+
+Van Slyck looked at him increduously, for he had not dreamed Muller's
+feelings ran so deeply.
+
+"You think--she--sometimes thinks of me?"
+
+Van Slyck's nimble wits were calculating the value to him of this new
+weakness of the _controlleur_. He foresaw infinite possibilities,
+Muller in love would be clay in his hands.
+
+"I am positive, _mynheer_," he assured with the utmost gravity.
+
+"_Kapitein_, do not make a mistake," Muller entreated. His voice
+trembled and broke. "Are you absolutely sure?"
+
+Van Slyck restrained a guffaw with difficulty. It was so
+ridiculous--this mountain of flesh, this sweaty, panting porpoise in his
+unwashed linen in love with the slender, graceful Koyala. He choked and
+coughed discreetly.
+
+"I am certain, _mynheer_," he assured.
+
+"Tell me, _kapitein_, what makes you think so?" Muller begged.
+
+Van Slyck forced himself to calmness and a judicial attitude.
+
+"You know I have seen something of women, _mynheer_," he replied
+gravely. "Both women here and in the best houses in Amsterdam, Paris,
+and London. Believe me, they are all the same--a fine figure of a man
+attracts them."
+
+He ran his eye over Muller's form in assumed admiration.
+
+"You have a figure any woman might admire, _mynheer_. I have seen
+Koyala's eyes rest on you, and I know what she was thinking. You have
+but to speak and she is yours."
+
+"Say you so, _kapitein_!" Muller cried ecstatically.
+
+"Absolutely," Van Slyck assured. His eyes narrowed. The devilish humor
+incarnate in him could not resist the temptation to harrow this tortured
+soul. Watching Muller closely, he inquired:
+
+"Then I can expect you to spread the net, _mynheer_?"
+
+The light died in Muller's eyes. A slow, volcanic fury succeeded it. He
+breathed deeply and exhaled the breath in an explosive gasp. His hands
+clenched and the veins in his forehead became almost black. Van Slyck
+and he leaped to their feet simultaneously.
+
+"Kapitein Van Slyck," he cried hoarsely, "you are a scoundrel! You would
+sell your own mother. Get out of my sight, or God help you, I will break
+you in two."
+
+The door of the _controlleur's_ dwelling opened. Muller leaped back, and
+Van Slyck's hand leaped to his holster.
+
+"I am here, Kapitein Van Slyck," a clear, silvery voice announced
+coolly.
+
+Koyala stood in the doorway.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+KOYALA'S WARNING
+
+
+For a moment no one spoke. Koyala, poised lightly on her feet, her
+slender, shapely young figure held rigidly and her chin uptilted, gazed
+steadily at Van Slyck. Her black eyes blazed a scornful defiance. Before
+her contempt even the proud Amsterdammer's arrogance succumbed. He
+reddened shamefacedly under his tan.
+
+"I am here, Kapitein Van Slyck," Koyala repeated clearly. She stepped
+toward him and reached out a slender, shapely arm, bare to the shoulder.
+"Here is my arm, where are your manacles, _kapitein_?"
+
+"Koyala!" Muller gasped huskily. His big body was trembling with such
+violence that the veranda shook.
+
+"This is my affair, _mynheer_," Koyala declared coldly, without removing
+her eyes from Van Slyck. She placed herself directly in front of the
+captain and crossed her wrists.
+
+"If you have no irons, use a cord, _kapitein_," she taunted. "But bind
+fast. The Argus Pheasant is not easily held captive."
+
+Van Slyck thrust her roughly aside.
+
+"Let's have done with this foolishness," he exclaimed bruskly.
+
+"What folly, _mynheer kapitein_?" Koyala demanded frigidly.
+
+"You had no business eavesdropping. If you heard something unpleasant
+you have only yourself to blame."
+
+Koyala's eyes sparkled with anger.
+
+"Eavesdropping, _kapitein_? I came here with a message of great
+importance to _mynheer_ the _controlleur_. Even the birds cock their
+ears to listen when they hear the hunter approach, _kapitein_."
+
+Turning her back with scornful indifference on Van Slyck, she crossed
+over to Muller and placed both her hands on his shoulder. Another fit of
+trembling seized the acting resident and his eyes swam.
+
+"You will forgive me, will you not, _mynheer_, for taking such liberties
+in your house?"
+
+"Of--of course," Muller stammered.
+
+"I heard a little of what was said," Koyala said; "enough to show me
+that I have a good friend here, a friend on whom I can always rely."
+
+Van Slyck caught the emphasis on the word "friend" and smiled
+sardonically.
+
+"Well, _Sister_ Koyala," he remarked mockingly, "if you and _Brother_
+Muller will be seated we will hear your important message."
+
+Muller plumped heavily into a chair. Things had been going too rapidly
+for him, his heavy wits were badly addled, and he needed time to compose
+himself and get a fresh grip on the situation. There was only one other
+chair on the veranda. Perceiving this, Van Slyck sprang forward and
+placed it for Koyala, smiling satirically as he did so. Koyala frowned
+with annoyance, hesitated a moment, then accepted it. Van Slyck swung a
+leg over the veranda rail.
+
+"Your message, my dear Koyala," he prompted. He used the term of
+endearment lingeringly, with a quick side glance at Muller, but the
+_controlleur_ was oblivious to both.
+
+"The message is for Mynheer Muller," Koyala announced icily.
+
+"Ah? So?" Van Slyck swung the leg free and rose. "Then I am not needed.
+I bid the dear bother and sister adieux."
+
+He made an elaborate French bow and started to leave. The embarrassed
+Muller made a hasty protest.
+
+"Ho, _kapitein_!" he cried, "do not leave us. _Donder en bliksem!_ the
+message may be for us both. Who is it from, Koyala?"
+
+Van Slyck was divided between two desires. He saw that Muller was in a
+panic at the thought of being left alone with Koyala, and for that
+reason was keenly tempted to get out of sight as quickly as possible. On
+the other hand he was curious to hear her communication, aware that only
+a matter of unusual import could have called her from the bush.
+Undecided, he lingered on the steps.
+
+"It was from Ah Sing," Koyala announced.
+
+Van Slyck's indecision vanished. He stepped briskly back on the porch.
+
+"From Ah Sing?" he exclaimed. "Mynheer Muller and I were just discussing
+his affairs. Does it concern the new resident we are to have?"
+
+"It does," Koyala acknowledged.
+
+"Who is it?" Muller and the captain cried in the same breath.
+
+Koyala glanced vindictively at Van Slyck.
+
+"You are sure that you will not sell me to him, _mynheer kapitein_?"
+
+Van Slyck scowled. "Tell us about the resident," he directed curtly.
+
+Koyala's eyes sparkled maliciously.
+
+"The new resident, _mynheer kapitein_, seems to have a higher opinion of
+me than you have. You see, he has already persuaded the governor to
+withdraw the offer he made for my person."
+
+Van Slyck bit his lip, but ignored the thrust.
+
+"Then he's one of us?" he demanded bruskly.
+
+"On the contrary, he is a most dangerous enemy," Koyala contradicted.
+
+"_Lieve hemel_, don't keep us waiting," Muller cried impatiently. "Who
+is it, Koyala?"
+
+"A sailor, _mynheer_," Koyala announced.
+
+"A sailor?" Van Slyck exclaimed incredulously. "Who?"
+
+"Mynheer Peter Gross, of Batavia."
+
+Van Slyck and Muller stared at each other blankly, each vainly trying to
+recall ever having heard the name before.
+
+"Pieter Gross, Pieter Gross, he must be a newcomer," Van Slyck remarked.
+"I have not heard of him before, have you, _mynheer_?"
+
+"There is no one by that name in the colonial service," Muller declared,
+shaking his head. "You say he is of Batavia, Koyala?"
+
+"Of Batavia, _mynheer_, but by birth and upbringing, and everything
+else, a Yankee."
+
+"A Yankee?" her hearers chorused incredulously.
+
+"Yes, a Yankee. Mate on a trading vessel, or so he was a year ago. He
+has been in the Indies the past seven years."
+
+Van Slyck broke into a roar of laughter.
+
+"Now, by the beard of Nassau, what joke is Chanticleer playing us now?"
+he cried. "He must be anxious to get that Yankee out of the way."
+
+Neither Koyala nor Muller joined in his mirth. Muller frowned
+thoughtfully. There was the look in his eyes of one who is striving to
+recollect some almost forgotten name or incident.
+
+"Pieter Gross, Pieter Gross," he repeated thoughtfully. "Where have I
+heard that name before?"
+
+"Do you remember what happened to Gogolu of Lombock the time he captured
+Lieutenant de Koren and his commando?" Koyala asked. "How an American
+sailor and ten of his crew surprised Gogolu's band, killed a great many
+of them, and took their prisoners away from them? That was Pieter
+Gross."
+
+"_Donder en bliksem._ I knew I had reason to remember that name," Muller
+cried in alarm. "We have no Mynheer de Jonge to deal with this time,
+_kapitein_. This Yankee is a fighter."
+
+"Good!" Van Slyck exclaimed with satisfaction. "We will give him his
+bellyful. There will be plenty for him to do in the bush, eh, _mynheer_?
+And if he gets too troublesome there are always ways of getting rid of
+him." He raised his eyebrows significantly.
+
+"This Yankee is no fool," Muller rejoined anxiously. "I heard about that
+Lombock affair--it was a master coup. We have a bad man to deal with,
+_kapitein_."
+
+Van Slyck smiled cynically.
+
+"Humph, _mynheer_, you make me tired. From the way you talk one would
+think these Yankees can fight as well as they can cheat the brown-skins.
+We will fill him up with Hollands, we will swell his foolish head with
+praise till it is ready to burst, and then we will engineer an uprising
+in the hill district. Koyala can manage that for us. When Mynheer, the
+Yankee, hears of it he will be that thirsty for glory there will be no
+holding him. We will start him off with our blessings, and then we will
+continue our business in peace. What do you think of the plan, my dear
+Koyala?"
+
+"Evidently you don't know Mynheer Gross," Koyala retorted coldly.
+
+"Do you?" Van Slyck asked, quick as a flash.
+
+"I have seen him," Koyala acknowledged. "Once. It was at the mouth of
+the Abbas River." She described the incident.
+
+"He is no fool," she concluded. "He is a strong man, and an able man,
+one you will have to look out for."
+
+"And a devilish handsome young man, too, I'll wager," Van Slyck observed
+maliciously with a sidelong glance at Muller. The _controlleur's_ ruddy
+face darkened with a quick spasm of jealousy, at which the captain
+chuckled.
+
+"Yes, a remarkably handsome man," Koyala replied coolly. "We need
+handsome men in Bulungan, don't we, captain? Handsome white men?"
+
+Van Slyck looked at her quickly. He felt a certain significance in her
+question that eluded him. It was not the first time she had indulged in
+such remarks, quite trivial on their face, but invested with a
+mysterious something the way she said them. He knew her tragic history
+and was sharp enough to guess that her unholy alliance with Ah Sing grew
+out of a savage desire to revenge herself on a government which had
+permitted her to be brought up a white woman and a victim of appetites
+and desires she could never satisfy. What he did not know, did not even
+dream, was the depth of her hate against the whole white race and her
+fixed purpose to sweep the last white man out of Bulungan.
+
+"We do have a dearth of society here in Bulungan," he conceded. "Do you
+find it so, too?"
+
+The question was a direct stab, for not a white woman in the residency
+would open her doors to Koyala. The Dyak blood leaped to her face; for a
+moment it seemed that she would spring at him, then she controlled
+herself with a powerful effort and replied in a voice studiedly
+reserved:
+
+"I do, _mynheer kapitein_, but one must expect to have a limited circle
+when there are so few that can be trusted."
+
+At this juncture Muller's jealous fury overcame all bounds. Jealousy
+accomplished what all Van Slyck's scorn and threats could not do, it
+made him eager to put the newcomer out of the way.
+
+"What are we going to do?" he thundered. "Sit here like turtles on a
+mud-bank while this Yankee lords it over us and ruins our business?
+_Donder en bliksem_, I won't, whatever the rest of you may do.
+_Kapitein_, get your wits to work; what is the best way to get rid of
+this Yankee?"
+
+Van Slyck looked at him in surprise. Then his quick wit instantly
+guessed the reason for the outburst.
+
+"Well, _mynheer_," he replied, shrugging his shoulders indifferently,
+"it seems to me that this is a matter you are more interested in than I.
+Mynheer Gross does not come to displace me."
+
+"You are ready enough to scheme murders if there is a _gulden_ in it for
+you, but you have no counsel for a friend, eh?" Muller snarled. "Let me
+remind you, _kapitein_, that you are involved just as heavily as I."
+
+Van Slyck laughed in cynical good humor.
+
+"Let it never be said that a Van Slyck is so base as that, _mynheer_.
+Supposing we put our heads together. In the first place, let us give
+Koyala a chance to tell what she knows. Where did you get the news,
+Koyala?"
+
+"That makes no difference, _mynheer kapitein_," Koyala rejoined coolly.
+"I have my own avenues of information."
+
+Van Slyck frowned with annoyance.
+
+"When does he come here?" he inquired.
+
+"We may expect him any time," Koyala stated. "He is to come when the
+rainy season closes, and that will be in a few days."
+
+"_Donder en bliksem_, does Ah Sing know this?" Muller asked anxiously.
+
+Van Slyck's lips curled in cynical amusement at the inanity of the
+question.
+
+"He knows," Koyala declared.
+
+"Of course he knows," Van Slyck added sarcastically. "The question is,
+what is he going to do?"
+
+"I do not know," Koyala replied. "He can tell you that himself when he
+comes here."
+
+"He's coming here?" Van Slyck asked quickly.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"When?"
+
+"I am not in Ah Sing's councils," Koyala declared coldly.
+
+"The deuce you're not," Van Slyck retorted irritably. "You seem to know
+a lot of things we hadn't heard of. What does Ah Sing expect us to do?
+Pander to this Yankee deck-scrubber until he comes?"
+
+"We will do what we think best," Muller observed grimly.
+
+Koyala looked at him steadily until his glance fell.
+
+"You will both leave him alone and attend to your own affairs," she
+announced. "The new resident will be taken care of by Ah Sing--and by
+me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE LONG ARM OF AH SING
+
+
+Two weeks after receiving his appointment as resident of Bulungan, Peter
+Gross stood on a wharf along the Batavia water-front and looked
+wistfully out to sea. It was early evening and quite dark, for the moon
+had not risen and the eastern sky from the zenith down was obscured by
+fitful patches of cloud, gray-winged messengers of rain. In the west,
+Venus glowed with a warm, seductive light, like a lamp in a Spanish
+garden. A brisk and vigorous breeze roughed the waters of the bay that
+raced shoreward in long rollers to escape its impetuous wooing.
+
+Peter Gross breathed the salt air deeply and stared steadfastly into the
+west, for he was sick at heart. Not until now did he realize what giving
+up the sea meant to him. The sea!--it had been a second mother to him,
+receiving him into its open arms when he ran away from the drudgery of
+the farm to satisfy the wanderlust that ached and ached in his boyish
+heart. Ay, it had mothered him, cradling him at night on its fond bosom
+while it sang a wild and eerie refrain among sail and cordage, buffeting
+him in its ill-humor, feeding him, and even clothing him. His first
+yellow oilskin, he remembered poignantly, had been salvaged from a
+wreck.
+
+Now he was leaving that mother. He was leaving the life he had lived for
+ten years. He was denying the dreams and ambitions of his youth. He was
+casting aside the dream of some day standing on the deck of his own ship
+with a score of smart sailors to jump at his command. A feeling akin to
+the home-sickness he had suffered when, a lad of fifteen, he lived
+through his first storm at sea, in the hold of a cattle-ship, came over
+him now. Almost he regretted his decision.
+
+Since bidding good-bye to Captain Threthaway two weeks before, he had
+picked twenty-four of the twenty-five men he intended to take with him
+for the pacification of Bulungan. The twenty-fifth he expected to sign
+that night at the home of his quondam skipper, Captain Roderick Rouse,
+better known as Roaring Rory. Rouse had been a trader in the south seas
+for many years and was now skipper of a smart little cottage in Ryswyk,
+the European residence section of Batavia. Peter Gross's presence at the
+water-front was explained by the fact that he had an hour to spare and
+naturally drifted to Tanjong Priok, the shipping center.
+
+The selection of the company had not been an easy task. Peter Gross had
+not expected that it would be. He found the type of men he wanted even
+scarcer than he anticipated. For the past two weeks beachcombers and
+loafers along the wharves, and tourists, traders, and gentlemen
+adventurers at the hotels had looked curiously at the big, well-dressed
+sailor who always seemed to have plenty of time and money to spend, and
+was always ready to gossip. Some of them tried to draw him out. To these
+he talked vaguely about seeing a little of Java before he went sailoring
+again. Opinion became general that for a sailor Peter Gross was
+remarkably close-mouthed.
+
+While he was to all appearances idly dawdling about, Peter Gross was in
+reality getting information concerning hardy young men of adventuresome
+spirit who might be persuaded to undertake an expedition that meant risk
+of life and who could be relied upon. Each man was carefully sounded
+before he was signed, and when signed, was told to keep his mouth shut.
+
+But the major problem, to find a capable leader of such a body of men,
+was still unsolved. Peter Gross realized that his duties as resident
+precluded him from taking personal charge. He also recognized his
+limitations. He was a sailor; a soldier was needed to whip the company
+in shape, a bush-fighter who knew how to dispose those under him when
+Dyak arrows and Chinese bullets began to fly overhead in the jungle.
+
+Two weeks of diligent search had failed to unearth any one with the
+necessary qualifications. Peter Gross was beginning to despair when he
+thought of his former skipper, Captain Rouse. Looking him up, he
+explained his predicament.
+
+"By the great Polar B'ar," Roaring Rory bellowed when Peter Gross had
+finished his recital. "How the dickens do you expect to clean out that
+hell-hole with twenty-five men? Man, there's a hundred thousand Dyaks
+alone, let alone those rat-faced Chinks that come snoopin' down like
+buzzards smellin' carrion, and the cut-throat Bugis, and the bad men the
+English chased out of Sarawak, and the Sulu pirates, and Lord knows what
+all. It's suicide."
+
+"I'm not going to Bulungan to make war," Peter Gross explained mildly.
+
+Roaring Rory spat a huge cud of tobacco into a cuspidor six feet away,
+the better to express his astonishment.
+
+"Then what in blazes are you goin' there for?" he roared.
+
+Peter Gross permitted himself one of his rare smiles. There was a
+positive twinkle in his eyes as he replied:
+
+"To convince them I am their best friend."
+
+Roaring Rory's eyes opened wide.
+
+"Convince 'em--what?" he gasped.
+
+"That I am their friend."
+
+The old sea captain stared at his ex-mate.
+
+"You're jokin'," he declared.
+
+"I was never more serious in my life," Peter Gross assured gravely.
+
+"Then you're a damn' fool," Roaring Rory asserted. "Yes, sir, a damn'
+fool. I didn't think it of ye, Peter."
+
+"It will take time, but I believe I see my way," Peter Gross replied
+quietly. He explained his plan briefly, and as he described how he
+expected to win the confidence and support of the hillmen, Roaring Rory
+became calmer.
+
+"Mebbe you can do it, Peter, mebbe you can do it," he conceded
+dubiously. "But that devil of an Ah Sing has a long arm, and by the bye,
+I'd keep indoors after sundown if I were you."
+
+"But this isn't getting me the man I need," Peter Gross pointed out.
+"Can you recommend any one, captain?"
+
+Roaring Rory squared back in his chair.
+
+"I hain't got the latitude and longitude of this-here proposition of
+yours figured just yet," he replied, producing a plug of tobacco and
+biting off a generous portion before passing it hospitably to his
+visitor. "Just what kind of a man do you want?"
+
+Peter Gross drew his chair a few inches nearer the captain's.
+
+"What I want," he said, "is a man that I can trust--no matter what
+happens. He doesn't need to know seamanship, but he's got to be
+absolutely square, a man the sight of gold or women won't turn. He has
+to be a soldier, an ex-army officer, and a bush-fighter, a man who has
+seen service in the jungle. A man from the Philippines would just fill
+the bill. He has to be the sort of a man his men will swear by. And he
+has to have a clean record."
+
+Roaring Rory grunted. "Ye don't want nothin', do ye? I'd recommend the
+Angel Gabriel."
+
+"There is such a man," Peter Gross insisted. "There always is. You've
+got to help me find him, captain."
+
+Rouse scratched his head profoundly and squinted hard. By and bye a big
+grin overspread his features.
+
+"I've got a nevvy," he announced, "who'd be crazy to be with ye. He's
+only seventeen, but big for his age. He's out on my plantation now. Hold
+on," he roared as Peter Gross attempted to interrupt. "I'm comin' to
+number twenty-five. This nevvy has a particular friend that's with him
+now out to the plantation. 'Cordin' to his log, this chap's the very man
+ye're lookin' for. Was a captain o' volunteer infantry and saw service
+in the Philippines. When his time run out he went to Shanghai for a
+rubber-goods house, and learned all there is to know about Chinks. He's
+the best rifle shot in Java. An' he can handle men. He ain't much on the
+brag order, but he sure is all there."
+
+"That is the sort of a man I have been looking for," Peter Gross
+observed with satisfaction.
+
+"He's worth lookin' up at any rate," Captain Rouse declared. "If you
+care to see him and my nevvy, you're in luck. They're comin' back
+to-night. They had a little business here, so they run down together and
+will bunk with me. I expect them here at nine o'clock, and if ye're on
+deck I'll interduce you. What d'ye say?"
+
+"I knew you wouldn't fail me, captain," Peter Gross replied warmly.
+"I'll be here."
+
+The shrill whistle of a coaster interrupted Peter Gross's melancholy
+reflections. He recollected with a start that it must be near the time
+he had promised to be at Captain Rouse's cottage. Leaving the wharves,
+he ambled along the main traveled highway toward the business district
+until overtaken by a belated victoria whose driver he hailed.
+
+The cool of evening was descending from the hills as the vehicle turned
+into the street on which Captain Rouse lived. It was a wide, tree-lined
+lane, with oil lamps every six or seven hundred feet whose yellow rays
+struggled ineffectually to banish the somber gloom shed by the huge
+masses of foliage that shut out the heavens. Feeling cramped from his
+long ride and a trifle chill, Peter Gross suddenly decided to walk the
+remainder of the distance, halted his driver, paid the fare, and
+dismissed him. Whistling cheerily, a rollicking chanty of the sea to
+which his feet kept time, he walked briskly along.
+
+Cutting a bar of song in the middle, he stopped suddenly to listen.
+Somewhere in the darkness behind him someone had stumbled into an acacia
+hedge and had uttered a stifled exclamation of pain. There was no other
+sound, except the soughing of the breeze through the tree-tops.
+
+"A drunken coolie," he observed to himself. He stepped briskly along and
+resumed his whistling. The song came to an abrupt close as his keen ears
+caught a faint shuffling not far behind, a shuffling like the scraping
+of a soft-soled shoe against the plank walk. He turned swiftly, ears
+pricked, and looked steadily in the direction that the sound came from,
+but the somber shadows defied his searching glance.
+
+"Only coolies," he murmured, but an uneasy feeling came upon him and he
+quickened his pace. His right hand involuntarily slipped to his
+coat-pocket for the pistol he customarily carried. It was not there. A
+moment's thought and he recollected he had left it in his room.
+
+As he reached the next street-lamp he hesitated. Ahead of him was a long
+area of unlighted thoroughfare. Evidently the lamp-lighter had neglected
+his duties. Or, Peter Gross reflected, some malicious hand might have
+extinguished the lights. It was on this very portion of the lane that
+Captain Rouse's cottage stood, only a few hundred yards farther.
+
+He listened sharply a moment. Back in the shadows off from the lane a
+piano tinkled, the langorous Dream Waltz from the Tales of Hoffman. A
+lighted victoria clattered toward him, then turned into a brick-paved
+driveway. Else not a sound. The very silence was ominous.
+
+Walking slowly, to accustom his eyes to the gloom, Peter Gross left the
+friendly circle of light. As the shadows began to envelop him he heard
+the sound of running feet on turf. Some one inside the hedge was trying
+to overhaul him. He broke into a dog-trot.
+
+A low whistle cut the silence. Leaping forward, he broke into a sprint.
+Rouse's cottage was only a hundred yards ahead--a dash and he would be
+there.
+
+A whistle from in front. A like sound from the other side of the lane.
+The stealthy tap-tapping of feet, sandaled feet, from every direction.
+
+For a moment Peter Gross experienced the sensation of a hunted creature
+driven to bay. It was only for a moment, however, and then he acquainted
+himself with his surroundings in a quick, comprehensive glance. On one
+side of him was the hedge, on the other a line of tall kenari-trees.
+
+Vaulting the hedge, he ran silently and swiftly in its shadow, hugging
+the ground like a fox in the brush. Suddenly and without warning he
+crashed full-tilt into a man coming from the opposite direction, caught
+him low, just beneath the ribs. The man crashed back into the hedge with
+an explosive gasp.
+
+Ahead were white pickets, the friendly white pickets that enclosed
+Captain Rouse's grounds. He dashed toward them, but he was too late. Out
+of a mass of shrubbery a short, squat figure leaped at him. There was
+the flash of a knife. Peter Gross had no chance to grapple with his
+assailant. He dropped like a log, an old sailor's trick, and the short,
+squat figure fell over him. He had an instant glimpse of a yellow face,
+fiendish in its malignancy, of a flying queue, of fingers that groped
+futilely, then he rose.
+
+At the same instant a cat-like something sprang on him from behind,
+twisted its legs around his body, and fastened its talons into his
+throat. The impact staggered him, but as he found his footing he tore
+the claw-like fingers loose and shook the creature off. Simultaneously
+two shadows in front of him materialized into Chinamen with gleaming
+knives. As they leaped at him a red-hot iron seared his right forearm
+and a bolt of lightning numbed his left shoulder.
+
+A sound like a hoarse, dry cackle came from Peter Gross's throat. His
+long arms shot out and each of his huge hands caught one of his
+assailants by the throat. Bringing their heads together with a sound
+like breaking egg-shells, he tossed them aside.
+
+Before he could turn to flee a dozen shadowy forms semi-circled about
+him. The starlight dimly revealed gaunt, yellow faces and glaring eyes,
+the eyes of a wolf-pack. The circle began to narrow. Knives glittered.
+But none of the crouching forms dared venture within reach of the
+gorilla arms.
+
+Then the lion arose in Peter Gross. Beside him was an ornamental iron
+flower-pot. Stooping quickly, he seized it and lifted it high above his
+head. They shrank from him, those crouching forms, with shrill pipings
+of alarm, but it was too late. He hurled it at the foremost. It caught
+two of them and bowled them over like ninepins. Then he leaped at the
+others. His mighty right caught one under the chin and laid him flat.
+His left dove into the pit of another's stomach. The unfortunate
+Chinaman collapsed like a sack of grain.
+
+They ringed him round. A sharp, burning sensation swept across his
+back--it was the slash of a knife. A blade sank into the fleshy part of
+his throat, and he tore it impatiently away. He struck out savagely
+into the densely packed mass of humanity and a primitive cave-man surge
+of joy thrilled him at the impact of his fists against human flesh and
+bone.
+
+But the fight was too unequal. Blood started from a dozen cuts; it
+seemed to him he was afire within and without. His blows began to lack
+power and a film came over his eyes, but he struck out the more
+savagely, furious at his own weakness. The darkness thickened. The
+figures before him, beside him, behind him, became more confused. Two
+and three heads bobbed where he thought there was only one. His blows
+went wild. The jackals were pulling the lion down.
+
+As he pulled himself together for a last desperate effort to plough
+through to the security of Rouse's home, the sharp crack of a revolver
+sounded in his ear. At the same instant the lawn leaped into a blinding
+light, a light in which the gory figures of his assailants stood out in
+dazed and uncertain relief. The acrid fumes of gunpowder filled his
+nostrils.
+
+Darting toward the hedges like rats scurrying to their holes, the
+Chinamen sought cover. Peter Gross hazily saw two men, white men, each
+of them carrying a flash-light and a pistol, vault the pickets. A third
+followed, swinging a lantern and bellowing for the "_wacht_" (police).
+It was Roaring Rory.
+
+"Are you hurt?" the foremost asked as he approached.
+
+"Not bad, I guess," Peter Gross replied thickly. He lifted his hand to
+his forehead in a dazed, uncertain way and looked stupidly at the blood
+that gushed over it. A cleft seemed to open at his feet. He felt himself
+sinking--down, down, down to the very foundations of the world. Dimly he
+heard the cry:
+
+"Quick, Paddy, lend a hand."
+
+Then came oblivion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+CAPTAIN CARVER SIGNS
+
+
+When Peter Gross recovered consciousness fifteen minutes later he found
+himself in familiar quarters. He was lying on a cot in Captain Rouse's
+den, commonly designated by that gentleman as "the cabin." Captain
+Rouse's face, solemn as an owl's, was leaning over him. As he blinked
+the captain's lips expanded into a grin.
+
+"Wot did I tell ye, 'e's all right!" the captain roared delightedly.
+"Demmit, ye can't kill a Sunda schooner bucko mate with a little
+bloodlettin'. Ah Sing pretty near got ye, eh, Peter?"
+
+The last was to Peter Gross, who was sitting up and taking inventory of
+his various bandages, also of his hosts. There were two strangers in the
+room. One was a short, stocky young man with a pugnacious Irish nose,
+freckly face, and hair red as a burnished copper boiler. His eyes were
+remarkably like the jovial navigator's, Peter Gross observed. The other
+was a dark, well-dressed man of about forty, with a military bearing and
+reserved air. He bore the stamp of gentility.
+
+"Captain Carver," Roaring Rory announced. "My old mate, Peter Gross, the
+best man as ever served under me."
+
+The elder man stepped forward and clasped Peter Gross's hand. The latter
+tried to rise, but Carver restrained him.
+
+"You had better rest a few moments, Mr. Gross," he said. There was a
+quiet air of authority in his voice that instantly attracted the
+resident, who gave him a keen glance.
+
+"My nevvy, Paddy, Peter, the doggonest young scamp an old sea-horse ever
+tried to raise," Rouse bellowed. "I wish I could have him for'ard with a
+crew like we used to have on the old _Gloucester Maid_." He guffawed
+boisterously while the younger of the two strangers, his face aglow with
+a magnetic smile, sprang forward and caught Peter Gross's hand in a
+quick, dynamic grip.
+
+"Them's the lads ye've got to thank for bein' here," Roaring Rory
+announced, with evident pride. "If they hadn't heard the fracas and
+butted in, the Chinks would have got ye sure."
+
+"I rather fancied it was you whom I have to thank for being here," Peter
+Gross acknowledged warmly. "You were certainly just in time."
+
+"Captain Rouse is too modest," Captain Carver said. "It was he who heard
+the disturbance and jumped to the conclusion you might be--in
+difficulty."
+
+The old navigator shook his head sadly. "I warned ye, Peter," he said;
+"I warned ye against that old devil, Ah Sing. Didn't I tell you to be
+careful at night? Ye ain't fit to be trusted alone, Peter."
+
+"I think you did," Peter Gross acknowledged with a twinkle. "But didn't
+you fix our appointment for to-night?"
+
+"Ye should have carried a gun," Roaring Rory reproved. "Leastwise a
+belayin'-pin. Ye like to use your fists too well, Peter. Fists are no
+good against knives. I'm a peace-lovin' man, Peter, 'twould be better
+for ye if ye patterned after me."
+
+Peter Gross smiled, for Roaring Rory's record for getting into scrapes
+was known the length and breadth of the South Pacific. Looking up, he
+surprised a merry gleam in Captain Carver's eyes and Paddy striving hard
+to remain sober.
+
+"I'll remember your advice, captain," Peter Gross assured.
+
+"Humph!" Roaring Rory grunted. "Well, Peter, is your head clear enough
+to talk business?"
+
+"I think so," Peter Gross replied slowly. "Have you explained the matter
+I came here to discuss?"
+
+"Summat, summat," Rouse grunted. "I leave the talking to you, Peter."
+
+"Captain Rouse told me you wanted some one to take charge of a company
+of men for a dangerous enterprise somewhere in the South Pacific,"
+Carver replied. "He said it meant risking life. That might mean anything
+to piracy. I understand, however, that your enterprise has official
+sanction."
+
+"My appointment is from the governor-general of the Netherlands East
+Indies," Peter Gross stated.
+
+"Ah, yes."
+
+"I need a man to drill and lead twenty-five men, all of whom have had
+some military training. I want a man who knows the Malays and their ways
+and knows the bush."
+
+"I was in the Philippines for two years as a captain of volunteer
+infantry," Carver said. "I was in Shanghai for four years and had
+considerable dealings at that time with the Chinese. I know a little of
+their language."
+
+"Have you any one dependent on you?"
+
+"I am a bachelor," Captain Carver replied.
+
+"Does twenty-five hundred a year appeal to you?"
+
+"That depends entirely on what services I should be expected to render."
+
+Confident that he had landed his man, and convinced from Captain Rouse's
+recommendation and his own observations that Carver was the very person
+he had been seeking, Peter Gross threw reserve aside and frankly stated
+the object of his expedition and the difficulties before him.
+
+"You see," he concluded, "the game is dangerous, but the stakes are big.
+I have no doubt but what Governor Van Schouten will deal handsomely with
+every one who helps restore order in the residency."
+
+Captain Carver was frowning.
+
+"I don't like the idea of playing one native element against another,"
+he declared. "It always breeds trouble. The only people who have ever
+been successful in pulling it off is the British in India, and they had
+to pay for it in blood during the Mutiny. The one way to pound the fear
+of God into the hearts of these benighted browns and blacks is to show
+them you're master. Once they get the idea the white man can't keep his
+grip without them, look out for treachery."
+
+"I've thought of that," Peter Gross replied sadly. "But to do as you
+suggest will take at least two regiments and will cost the lives of
+several thousand Dyaks. You will have to lay the country bare, and you
+will sow a seed of hate that is bound to bear fruit. But if I can
+persuade them to trust me, Bulungan will be pacified. Brooke did it in
+Sarawak, and I believe I can do it here."
+
+Carver stroked his chin in silence.
+
+"You know the country," he said. "If you have faith and feel you want
+me, I'll go with you."
+
+"I'll have a lawyer make the contracts at once," Peter Gross replied.
+"We can sign them to-morrow."
+
+"Can't you take me with you, too, Mr. Gross?" Paddy Rouse asked eagerly.
+
+Peter Gross looked at the lad. The boy's face was eloquent with
+entreaty.
+
+"How old are you?" he asked.
+
+"Seventeen," came the halting acknowledgment. "But I've done a man's
+work for a year. Haven't I, avunculus?"
+
+Captain Rouse nodded a reluctant assent. "I hate to miss ye, my boy," he
+said, "but maybe a year out there would get the deviltry out of ye and
+make a man of ye. If Peter wants ye, he may have ye."
+
+A flash of inspiration came to Peter Gross as he glanced at the boy's
+tousled shock of fiery-red hair.
+
+"I'll take you on a private's pay," he said. "A thousand a year. Is that
+satisfactory?"
+
+"I'm signed," Paddy whooped. "Hooray!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Peter Gross and his company left Tanjong Priok a fortnight later
+Captain Rouse bade them a wistful good-bye at the wharf.
+
+"Take care of the lad; he's all I got," he said huskily to the resident.
+"If it wasn't for the damned plantation I'd go with ye, too."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+MYNHEER MULLER'S DREAM
+
+
+The Dutch gun-boat _Prins Lodewyk_, a terror to evil-doers in the Java
+and Celebes seas, steamed smartly up Bulungan Bay and swung into
+anchorage a quarter of a mile below the assemblage of junks and Malay
+proas clustered at the mouth of Bulungan River. She carried a new flag
+below her ensign, the resident's flag. As she swung around, her guns
+barked a double salute, first to the flag and then to the resident.
+Peter Gross and his company were come to Bulungan.
+
+The pert brass cannon of the stockade answered gun for gun. It was the
+yapping of terrier against mastiff, for the artillery of the fortress
+was of small caliber and an ancient pattern. Its chief service was to
+intimidate the natives of the town who had once been bombarded during an
+unfortunate rebellion and had never quite forgotten the sensation of
+being under shell-fire.
+
+Peter Gross leaned over the rail of the vessel and looked fixedly
+shoreward. His strong, firm chin was grimly set. There were lines in his
+face that had not been there a few weeks before when he was tendered and
+accepted his appointment as resident. Responsibility was sitting
+heavily upon his shoulders, for he now realized the magnitude of the
+task he had so lightly assumed.
+
+Captain Carver joined him. "All's well, so far, Mr. Gross," he observed.
+
+Peter Gross let the remark stand without comment for a moment. "Ay,
+all's well so far," he assented heavily.
+
+There was another pause.
+
+"Are we going ashore this afternoon?" Carver inquired.
+
+"That is my intention."
+
+"Then you'll want the boys to get their traps on deck. At what hour will
+you want them?"
+
+"I think I shall go alone," Peter Gross replied quietly.
+
+Carver looked up quickly. "Not alone, Mr. Gross," he expostulated.
+
+Peter Gross looked sternly shoreward at the open water-front of Bulungan
+town, where dugouts, sampans, and crude bark canoes were frantically
+shooting about to every point of the compass in helter-skelter
+confusion.
+
+"I think it would be best," he said.
+
+Carver shook his head. "I don't think I'd do it, Mr. Gross," he advised
+gravely. "I don't think you ought to take the chance."
+
+"To convince an enemy you are not afraid is often half the fight," Peter
+Gross observed.
+
+"A good rule, but it doesn't apply to a pack of assassins," Carver
+replied. "And that's what we seem to be up against. You can't take too
+big precautions against whelps that stab in the dark."
+
+Peter Gross attempted no contradiction. The ever increasing concourse of
+scantily clad natives along the shore held his attention. Carver scanned
+his face anxiously.
+
+"They pretty nearly got you at Batavia, Mr. Gross," he reminded, anxiety
+overcoming his natural disinclination to give a superior unsolicited
+advice.
+
+"You may be right," Peter Gross conceded mildly.
+
+Carver pushed his advantage. "If Ah Sing's tong men will take a chance
+at murdering you in Batavia under the nose of the governor, they won't
+balk at putting you out of the way in Bulungan, a thousand miles from
+nowhere. There's a hundred ways they can get rid of a man and make it
+look like an accident."
+
+"We must expect to take some risks."
+
+Perceiving the uselessness of argument, Carver made a final plea. "At
+least let me go with you," he begged.
+
+Peter Gross sighed and straightened to his full six feet two. "Thank
+you, captain," he said, "but I must go alone. I want to teach Bulungan
+one thing to-day--that Peter Gross is not afraid."
+
+While Captain Carver was vainly trying to dissuade Peter Gross from
+going ashore, Kapitein Van Slyck hastened from his quarters at the fort
+to the _controlleur's_ house. Muller was an uncertain quantity in a
+crisis, the captain was aware; it was vital that they act in perfect
+accord. He found his associate pacing agitatedly in the shade of a
+screen of nipa palms between whose broad leaves he could watch the trim
+white hull and spotless decks of the gun-boat.
+
+Muller was smoking furiously. At the crunch of Van Slyck's foot on the
+coraled walk he turned quickly, with a nervous start, and his face
+blanched.
+
+"Oh, _kapitein_," he exclaimed with relief, "is it you?"
+
+"Who else would it be?" Van Slyck growled, perceiving at once that
+Muller had worked himself into a frenzy of apprehension.
+
+"I don't know. I thought, perhaps, Cho Seng--"
+
+"You look as though you'd seen a ghost. What's there about Cho Seng to
+be afraid of?"
+
+"--that Cho Seng had come to tell me Mynheer Gross was here," Muller
+faltered.
+
+Van Slyck looked at him keenly, through narrowed lids.
+
+"Hum!" he grunted with emphasis. "So it is Mynheer Gross already with
+you, eh, Muller?"
+
+There was a significant emphasis on the "_mynheer_."
+
+Muller flushed. "Don't get the notion I'm going to sweet-mouth to him
+simply because he is resident, _kapitein_," he retorted, recovering his
+dignity. "You know me well enough--my foot is in this as deeply as
+yours."
+
+"Yes, and deeper," Van Slyck replied significantly.
+
+The remark escaped Muller. He was thrusting aside the screen of nipa
+leaves to peer toward the vessel.
+
+"No," he exclaimed with a sigh of relief, "he has not left the ship yet.
+There are two civilians at the forward rail--come, _kapitein_, do you
+think one of them is he?"
+
+He opened the screen wider for Van Slyck. The captain stepped forward
+with an expression of bored indifference and peered through the
+aperture.
+
+"H-m!" he muttered. "I wouldn't be surprised if the big fellow is Gross.
+They say he has the inches."
+
+"I hope to heaven he stays aboard to-day," Muller prayed fervently.
+
+"He can come ashore whenever he wants to, for all I care," Van Slyck
+remarked.
+
+Muller straightened and let the leaves fall back.
+
+"_Lieve hemel, neen, kapitein_," he expostulated. "What would I do if he
+should question me. My reports are undone, there are a dozen cases to be
+tried, I have neglected to settle matters with some of the chiefs, and
+my accounts are in a muddle. I don't see how I am ever going to
+straighten things out--then there are those other things--what will he
+say?"
+
+He ran his hands through his hair in nervous anxiety. Van Slyck
+contemplated his agitation with a darkening frown. "Is the fool going to
+pieces?" was the captain's harrowing thought. He clapped a hand on
+Muller's shoulder with an assumption of bluff heartiness.
+
+"'Sufficient unto the day--' You know the proverb, _mynheer_," he said
+cheerfully. "There's nothing to worry about--we won't give him a chance
+at you for two weeks. Kapitein Enckel of the _Prins_ will probably bring
+him ashore to-day. We'll receive him here; I'll bring my lieutenants
+over, and Cho Seng can make us a big dinner.
+
+"To-night there will be schnapps and reminiscences, to-morrow morning a
+visit of inspection to the fort, to-morrow afternoon a _bitchara_ with
+the Rajah Wobanguli, and the day after a visit to Bulungan town. At
+night visits to Wang Fu's house and Marinus Blauwpot's, with cards and
+Hollands. I'll take care of him for you, and you can get your books in
+shape. Go to Barang, if you want to, the day we visit Rotterdam--leave
+word with Cho Seng you were called away to settle an important case.
+Leave everything to me, and when you get back we'll have _mynheer_ so
+drunk he won't know a tax statement from an Edammer cheese."
+
+Muller's face failed to brighten at the hopeful program mapped out by
+his associate. If anything, his agitation increased.
+
+"But he might ask questions to-day, _kapitein_--questions I cannot
+answer."
+
+Van Slyck's lips curled. His thought was: "Good God, what am I going to
+do with this lump of jelly-fish?" But he replied encouragingly:
+
+"No danger of that at all, _mynheer_. There are certain formalities that
+must be gone through first before a new resident takes hold. It would
+not be good form to kick his predecessor out of office without giving
+the latter a chance to close his books--even a pig of a Yankee knows
+that. Accept his credentials if he offers them, but tell him business
+must wait till the morning. Above all, keep your head, say nothing, and
+be as damnably civil as though he were old Van Schouten himself. If we
+can swell his head none of us will have to worry."
+
+"But my accounts, _kapitein_," Muller faltered.
+
+"To the devil with your accounts," Van Slyck exclaimed, losing
+patience. "Go to Barang, fix them up as best you can."
+
+"I can never get them to balance," Muller cried. "Our dealings--the
+rattan we shipped--you know." He looked fearfully around.
+
+"There never was a _controlleur_ yet that didn't line his own pockets,"
+Van Slyck sneered. "But his books never showed it. You are a
+book-keeper, _mynheer_, and you know how to juggle figures. Forget these
+transactions; if you can't, charge the moneys you got to some account.
+There are no vouchers or receipts in Bulungan. A handy man with figures,
+like yourself, ought to be able to make a set of accounts that that
+ferret Sachsen himself could not find a flaw in."
+
+"But that is not the worst," Muller cried despairingly. "There are the
+taxes, the taxes I should have sent to Batavia, the rice that we sold
+instead to Ah Sing."
+
+"Good God! Have you grown a conscience?" Van Slyck snarled. "If you
+have, drown yourself in the bay. Lie, you fool, lie! Tell him the
+weevils ruined the crop, tell him the floods drowned it, tell him a
+tornado swept the fields bare, lay it to the hill Dyaks--anything,
+anything! But keep your nerve, or you'll hang sure."
+
+Muller retreated before the captain's vehemence.
+
+"But the _bruinevels_, _kapitein_?" he faltered. "They may tell him
+something different."
+
+"Wobanguli won't; he's too wise to say anything," Van Slyck asserted
+firmly. "None of the others will dare to, either--all we've got to do is
+to whisper Ah Sing's name to them. But there's little danger of any of
+them except the Rajah seeing him until after the _Prins_ is gone. Once
+she's out of the harbor I don't care what they say--no word of it will
+ever get back to Batavia."
+
+His devilishly handsome smile gleamed sardonically, and he twisted his
+nicely waxed mustache. Muller's hands shook.
+
+"_Kapitein_," he replied in an odd, strained voice, "I am afraid of this
+Peter Gross. I had a dream last night, a horrible dream--I am sure it
+was him I saw. I was in old de Jonge's room in the residency
+building--you know the room--and the stranger of my dream sat in old de
+Jonge's chair.
+
+"He asked me questions, questions of how I came here, and what I have
+done here, and I talked and talked till my mouth was dry as the marsh
+grass before the rains begin to fall. All the while he listened, and his
+eyes seemed to bore through me, as though they said: 'Judas, I know
+what is going on in your heart.'
+
+"At last, when I could say no more, he asked me: '_Mynheer_, how did
+Mynheer de Jonge die?' Then I fell on the ground before him and told him
+all--all. At the last, soldiers came to take me away to hang me, but
+under the very shadow of the gallows a bird swooped down out of the air
+and carried me away, away into the jungle. Then I awoke."
+
+Van Slyck broke into scornful laughter.
+
+"_Mynheer_, you had enough to worry about before you started dreaming,"
+he said bluntly. "If you're going to fill your head with such
+foolishness I'll leave you to your own devices."
+
+"But, _kapitein_, it might be a warning," Muller cried desperately.
+
+"Heaven doesn't send ravens to cheat such rogues as you and I from the
+gallows, _mynheer_," Van Slyck mocked. "We might as well get ready to
+meet our new resident. I see a boat putting off from the ship."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+PETER GROSS'S RECEPTION
+
+
+When Peter Gross stepped ashore at the foot of the slope on which the
+fort and government buildings stood, three thousand pairs of eyes, whose
+owners were securely hidden in the copses and undergrowth for a quarter
+of a mile in both directions along the shore-line, watched his every
+movement. With the lightning celerity with which big news travels word
+had been spread through Bulungan town that the new resident was coming
+ashore, and every inhabitant possessed of sound legs to bear him had
+run, crawled, or scrambled to a favorable patch of undergrowth where he
+could get a first glimpse of the _orang blanda_ chief without being
+observed.
+
+Perfectly aware of this scrutiny, but calmly oblivious to it, Peter
+Gross stepped out of the boat and directed the sailors who rowed it to
+return to their ship. As their oars bit the water he faced the path that
+wound up the hillside and walked along it at a dignified and easy pace.
+His sharp ears caught the incessant rustle of leaves, a rustle not made
+by the breeze, and the soft grinding of bits of coral under the pressure
+of naked feet.
+
+Once he surprised a dusky face in the bush, but his glance roved to the
+next object in his line of vision in placid unconcern. As he mounted the
+rise he made for the _controlleur's_ home, strolling along as calmly as
+though he were on a Batavia lane.
+
+"_Duivel noch toe!_" Muller exclaimed as the boat returned to the ship.
+"He is coming here alone." His voice had an incredulous ring as though
+he half doubted the evidence of his own senses.
+
+Van Slyck's eyes danced with satisfaction, and his saturnine smile was
+almost Mephistophelian.
+
+"By Nassau, I was right, after all, _mynheer_," he exclaimed. "He's an
+ass of a Yankee that Van Schouten is having some sport with in sending
+him here."
+
+"There may be something behind this, _kapitein_," Muller cautioned
+apprehensively, but Van Slyck cut him short.
+
+"Behind this, _mynheer_? The fool does not even know how to maintain the
+dignity due his office. Would he land this way, like a pedler with his
+pack, if he did? Oh, we are going to have some rare sport--"
+
+Van Slyck's merriment broke loose in a guffaw.
+
+"You-you will not do anything violent, _kapitein_?" Muller asked
+apprehensively.
+
+"Violent?" Van Slyck exclaimed. "I wouldn't hurt him for a thousand
+guilders, _mynheer_. He's going to be more fun than even you."
+
+The frank sneer that accompanied the remark made the captain's meaning
+sufficiently clear to penetrate even so sluggish a mind as the
+_controlleur's_. He reddened, and an angry retort struggled to his
+lips, but he checked it before it framed itself into coherent language.
+He was too dependent on Van Slyck, he realized, to risk offending the
+latter now, but for the first time in their acquaintanceship his
+negative dislike of his more brilliant associate deepened to a positive
+aversion.
+
+"What are we going to do, _kapitein_?" he asked quietly.
+
+"Welcome him, _mynheer_!" Again the sardonic smile. "Treat him to some
+of your fine cigars and a bottle of your best Hollands. Draw him out,
+make him empty his belly to us. When we have sucked him dry and drenched
+him with liquor we will pack him back to the _Prins_ to tell Kapitein
+Enckel what fine fellows we are. To-morrow we'll receive him with all
+ceremony--I'll instruct him this afternoon how a resident is installed
+in his new post and how he must conduct himself.
+
+"Enckel will leave here without a suspicion, Mynheer Gross will be ready
+to trust even his purse to us if we say the word, and we will have
+everything our own way as before. But s-s-st! Here he comes!" He lifted
+a restraining hand. "Lord, what a shoulder of beef! Silence, now, and
+best your manners, _mynheer_. Leave the talking to me."
+
+Peter Gross walked along the kenari-tree shaded lane between the
+evergreen hedges clipped with characteristic Dutch primness to a perfect
+plane. Behind him formed a growing column of natives whose curiosity had
+gotten the better of their diffidence.
+
+The resident's keen eyes instantly ferreted out Van Slyck and Muller in
+the shadows of the veranda, but he gave no sign of recognition. Mounting
+the steps of the porch, he stood for a moment in dignified expectancy,
+his calm, gray eyes taking the measure of each of its occupants.
+
+An apprehensive shiver ran down Muller's spine as he met Peter Gross's
+glance--those gray eyes were so like the silent, inscrutable eyes of the
+stranger in de Jonge's chair whom he saw in his dream. It was Van Slyck
+who spoke first.
+
+"You were looking for some one, _mynheer_?" he asked.
+
+"For Mynheer Muller, the _controlleur_ and acting resident. I think I
+have found him."
+
+The mildness with which these words were spoken restored the captain's
+aplomb, momentarily shaken by Peter Gross's calm, disconcerting stare.
+
+"You have a message for us?"
+
+"I have," Peter Gross replied.
+
+"Ah, from Kapitein Enckel, I suppose," Van Slyck remarked urbanely.
+"Your name is--" He paused significantly.
+
+"It is from his excellency, the Jonkheer Van Schouten," Peter Gross
+corrected quietly.
+
+Peter Gross's tolerance of this interrogation convinced Van Slyck that
+he had to do with an inferior intelligence suddenly elevated to an
+important position and very much at sea in it.
+
+"And your message, I understand, is for Mynheer Muller, the
+_controlleur_?" the captain inquired loftily with a pert uptilt of his
+chin.
+
+"For Mynheer Muller, the _controlleur_," Peter Gross acknowledged
+gravely.
+
+"Ah, yes. This is Mynheer Muller." He indicated the _controlleur_ with a
+flourish. "But you have not yet told us your name."
+
+"I am Peter Gross."
+
+"Ah, yes, Pieter Gross. Pieter Gross." The captain repeated the name
+with evident relish. "Pieter Gross. Mynheer Pieter Gross."
+
+There was a subtle emphasis on the _mynheer_--a half-doubtful use of the
+word, as though he questioned Peter Gross's right to a gentleman's
+designation. It was designed to test the sailor.
+
+Peter Gross's face did not change a muscle. Turning to the
+_controlleur_, he asked in a voice of unruffled calm: "May I speak to
+you privately, _mynheer_?"
+
+Muller glanced apprehensively at Van Slyck. The fears inspired by his
+dreams made him more susceptible to ulterior impressions than the
+captain, whose naturally more acute sensibilities were blunted by the
+preconceived conviction that he had an ignorant Yankee to deal with. Van
+Slyck smiled cynically and observed:
+
+"Am I in the way, Mynheer Gross?" Again the ironic accent to the
+_mynheer_. He rose to go, but Muller stayed him with the cry:
+
+"_Neen, neen, kapitein._ Whatever comes from the governor concerns you,
+too. Stay with us, and we will see what his excellency has to say."
+
+None knew the importance of first impressions better than the captain.
+If the new resident could be thwarted in his purpose of seeing Muller
+alone that achievement would exercise its influence on all their future
+relations, Van Slyck perceived.
+
+Assuming an expression of indifference, he sank indolently into an easy
+chair. When he looked up he found the gray eyes of Peter Gross fixed
+full upon him.
+
+"Perhaps I should introduce myself further, captain," Peter Gross said.
+"I am Mynheer Gross, of Batavia, your new resident by virtue of his
+excellency the Jonkheer Van Schouten's appointment."
+
+Van Slyck's faint, cynical smile deepened a trifle.
+
+"Ah, _mynheer_ has been appointed resident," he remarked
+non-committally.
+
+Peter Gross's face hardened sternly.
+
+"It is not the custom in Batavia, captain, for officers of the garrison
+to be seated while their superiors stand."
+
+For a moment the astonished captain lost his usual assurance. In that
+moment he unwittingly scrambled to his feet in response to the
+commanding look of the gray eyes that stared at him so steadily. The
+instant his brain cleared he regretted the action, but another lightning
+thought saved him from the folly of defying the resident by reseating
+himself in the chair he had vacated. Furious at Peter Gross, furious at
+himself, he struggled futilely for an effective reply and failed to find
+it. In the end he took refuge in a sullen silence.
+
+Peter Gross turned again to Muller.
+
+"Here are my credentials, _mynheer_, and a letter from his excellency,
+the governor-general," he announced simply.
+
+With the words he placed in Muller's hands two envelopes plentifully
+decorated with sealing-wax stamped with the great seal of the
+Netherlands. The _controlleur_ took them with trembling fingers. Peter
+Gross calmly appropriated a chair. As he seated himself he remarked:
+
+"Gentlemen, you may sit."
+
+Van Slyck ignored the permission and strolled to one end of the veranda.
+He was thinking deeply, and all the while stole covert looks at Peter
+Gross. Had he been mistaken, after all, in his estimate of the man? Was
+this apparent guilelessness and simplicity a mask? Were Koyala and
+Muller right? Or was the resident's sudden assumption of dignity a petty
+vanity finding vent in the display of newly acquired powers?
+
+He stole another look. That face, it was so frank and ingenuous, so free
+from cunning and deceit, and so youthful. Its very boyishness persuaded
+Van Slyck. Vanity was the inspiration for the resident's sudden
+assertion of the prerogatives of his office, he decided, the petty
+vanity of a boor eager to demonstrate authority. Confidence restored, he
+became keenly alert for a chance to humble this froward Yankee.
+
+It was some time before Muller finished reading the documents. He was
+breathing heavily the while, for he felt that he was reading his own
+death-warrant. There was no doubting their authenticity, for they were
+stamped with the twin lions of the house of Orange and the motto, "_Je
+Maintiendrai_." The signature at the bottom of each was the familiar
+scrawl of Java's gamecock governor.
+
+Muller stared at them blankly for a long time, as though he half hoped
+to find some mitigation of the blow that swept his vast administrative
+powers as acting resident from him to the magistracy of a district.
+Dropping them on his lap at last with a weary sigh, he remarked:
+
+"Welcome, Mynheer Gross, to Bulungan. I wish I could say more, but I
+cannot. The most I can say is that I am happy his excellency has at last
+yielded to my petition and has relieved me of a portion of my duties. It
+is a hard, hard residency to govern, _mynheer_."
+
+"A splendid start," Van Slyck muttered to himself under his breath.
+
+"So I have been informed, _mynheer_," Peter Gross replied gravely.
+"Pardon me a moment."
+
+He turned toward Van Slyck: "Captain, I have a letter for you also from
+his excellency. It will inform you of my appointment."
+
+"It would be better form, perhaps, _mynheer_, for me to receive his
+excellency's commands at Fort Wilhelmina," Van Slyck replied suavely,
+delighted at being able to turn the tables.
+
+"Very true, very true, _kapitein_, if you insist," Peter Gross agreed
+quietly. "I hope to visit you at the fort within the hour. In the mean
+time you will excuse Mynheer Muller and me."
+
+For the second time a cold chill of doubt seized Van Slyck. Was it
+possible that he had misjudged his man? If he had, it was doubly
+dangerous to leave Muller alone with him. He resolved to force the
+issue.
+
+"A thousand pardons, _mynheer_," he apologized smilingly. "Mynheer
+Muller just now requested me to remain."
+
+A swift change came into the face of Peter Gross. His chin shot forward;
+in place of the frank simplicity on which Van Slyck had based his
+estimate was a look of authority.
+
+"Mynheer Muller cancels that invitation at my request," he announced
+sternly.
+
+Van Slyck glanced in quick appeal at his associate, but Muller's eyes
+were already lowering under Peter Gross's commanding glance. Unable to
+find a straw of excuse for holding the captain, the _controlleur_
+stammered:
+
+"Certainly, _mynheer_. I will see you later, _kapitein_."
+
+Even then Van Slyck lingered, afraid now to leave Muller alone. But the
+cold, gray eyes of Peter Gross followed him; they expressed a decision
+from which there was no appeal. Furious at Muller, furious at his own
+impotence, the captain walked slowly across the veranda. Half-way down
+the steps he turned with a glare of defiance, but thought better of it.
+Raging inwardly, and a prey to the blackest passions, he strode toward
+the stockade. The unhappy sentinel at the gate, a Javanese colonial, was
+dozing against the brass cannon.
+
+"Devil take you, is this the way you keep guard?" Van Slyck roared and
+leaped at the man. His sword flashed from its scabbard and he brought
+the flat of the blade on the unhappy wretch's head. The Javanese dropped
+like a log.
+
+"Bring that carrion to the guard-house and put some one on the gate that
+can keep his eyes open," Van Slyck shouted to young Lieutenant Banning,
+officer of the day. White to the lips, Banning saluted, and executed the
+orders.
+
+In barracks that night the soldiers whispered fearfully to each other
+that a _budjang brani_ (evil spirit) had seized their captain again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+A FEVER ANTIDOTE
+
+
+"You have found Bulungan a difficult province to govern, _mynheer_?"
+Peter Gross asked.
+
+The words were spoken in a mild, ingratiating manner. Peter Gross's
+voice had the friendly quality that so endeared him to all who made his
+acquaintance, and the harshness that had distinguished his curt
+dismissal of the supercilious Van Slyck was wholly absent.
+
+Muller wiped away the drops of perspiration that had gathered on his
+forehead. A prey to conscience, Van Slyck's dismissal had seemed to him
+the beginning of the end.
+
+"_Ach, mynheer_," he faltered, "it has been a heavy task. Too much for
+one man, altogether too much. Since Mynheer de Jonge left here two years
+ago I have been both resident and _controlleur_. I have worked night and
+day, and the heavy work, and the worry, have made me almost bald."
+
+That a connection existed between baldness and overwork was a new theory
+to Peter Gross and rather amusing, since he knew the circumstances. But
+not the faintest flicker of a smile showed on his face.
+
+"You have found it difficult, then, I presume, to keep up with all your
+work?" he suggested.
+
+Muller instantly grasped at the straw. "Not only difficult, _mynheer_,
+but wholly impossible," he vehemently affirmed. "My reports are far
+behind. I suppose his excellency told you that?"
+
+He scanned Peter Gross's face anxiously. The latter's serenity remained
+undisturbed.
+
+"His excellency told me very little," he replied. "He suggested that I
+consult with you and Captain Van Slyck to get your ideas on what is
+needed for bettering conditions here. I trust I will have your
+coöperation, _mynheer_?"
+
+Muller breathed a silent sigh of relief. "That you will, _mynheer_," he
+assured fervently. "I shall be glad to help you all I can. And so will
+Kapitein Van Slyck, I am sure of that. You will find him a good man--a
+little proud, perhaps, and headstrong, like all these soldiers, but an
+experienced officer." Muller nodded sagely.
+
+"I am glad to hear that," Peter Gross replied. "The work is a little new
+to me--I presume you know that?"
+
+"So I heard, _mynheer_. This is your first post as resident?"
+
+Peter Gross's eyelids quivered a trifle. Muller's admission revealed
+that he had had correspondence with Ah Sing, for from no other source
+could the news have leaked out.
+
+"This is my first post," he acknowledged.
+
+"Possibly you have served as _controlleur_?" Muller suggested.
+
+"I am a sailor," Peter Gross replied. "This is my first state
+appointment."
+
+"Then my experience may be of value to you, _mynheer_," Muller declared
+happily. "You understand accounts, of course?"
+
+"In a measure. But I am more a sailor than a supercargo, _mynheer_."
+
+"To be sure, to be sure," Muller acquiesced heartily. "A sailor to the
+sea and to fighting in the bush, and a penman to his books. Leave the
+accounts to me; I will take care of them for you, _mynheer_. You will
+have plenty to do, keeping the tribes in order. It was more than I could
+do. These Dyaks and Malays are good fighters."
+
+"So I have been told," Peter Gross assented dryly.
+
+"They told you correctly, _mynheer_. But they will get a stern master
+now--we have heard of your work at Lombock, _mynheer_."
+
+The broad compliment was accompanied by an even broader smile. Muller
+was very much pleased with himself, and thought he was handling a
+delicate situation in a manner that Van Slyck himself could not have
+improved upon.
+
+Peter Gross's gravity did not relax. "How are the natives? Do you have
+much difficulty?" he inquired.
+
+Muller assumed a wobegone expression. "_Ach, mynheer_," he exclaimed
+dolorously, "those hill Dyaks are devils. It is one raid after another;
+they will not let us alone. The rice-fields are swept bare. What the
+Dyaks do not get, the floods and typhoons get, and the weevils eat the
+stubble. We have not had a crop in two years. The rice we gathered for
+taxes from those villages where there was a little blessing on the
+harvest we had to distribute among the villages where the crop failed to
+keep our people from starving. That is why we could not ship to Batavia.
+I wish his excellency would come here himself and see how things are; he
+would not be so critical about the taxes that are not paid."
+
+"Do the coast Dyaks ever make trouble?" Peter Gross asked.
+
+Muller glanced at him shrewdly.
+
+"It is the hill Dyaks who begin it, _mynheer_. Sometimes my coast Dyaks
+lose their heads when their crops are burned and their wives and
+children are stolen, but that is not often. We can control them better
+than we can the hill people, for they are nearer us. Of course a man
+runs amuck occasionally, but that you find everywhere."
+
+"I hear there is a half-white woman who wields a great influence over
+them," Peter Gross remarked. "Who is she?"
+
+"You mean Koyala, _mynheer_. A wonderful woman with a great influence
+over her people; they would follow her to death. That was a wise act,
+_mynheer_, to persuade his excellency to cancel the offer he made for
+her person. Bulungan will not forget it. You could not have done
+anything that pleases the people more."
+
+"She is very beautiful, I have heard," Peter Gross remarked pensively.
+
+Muller glanced at him sharply, and a quick spasm of jealousy contracted
+his features. The resident might like a pretty face, too, was his
+instant thought; it was an angle he had not bargained for. This Mynheer
+Gross was strong and handsome, young--altogether a dangerous rival. His
+mellow good nature vanished.
+
+"That depends on what you call beauty," he said surlily. "She is a
+witch-woman, and half Dyak."
+
+Peter Gross looked up in pretended surprise.
+
+"Well, _mynheer_, I am astonished. They told me in Batavia--" He checked
+himself abruptly.
+
+"What did they tell you in Batavia?" Muller demanded eagerly.
+
+Peter Gross shook his head. "I should not have spoken, _mynheer_. It was
+only idle gossip."
+
+"Tell me, _mynheer_," Muller pleaded. "_Lieve hemel_, this is the first
+time in months that some one has told me that Batavia still remembers
+Muller of Bulungan."
+
+"It was only idle rumor," Peter Gross deprecated. "I was told you were
+going to marry--naturally I believed--but of course as you say it's
+impossible--"
+
+"I to marry?" Muller exclaimed. "Who? Koyala?"
+
+Peter Gross's silence was all the confirmation the _controlleur_ needed.
+A gratified smile spread over his face; he was satisfied now that the
+resident had no intention of being his rival.
+
+"They say that in Batavia?" he asked. "Well, between you and me,
+_mynheer_, I would have to look far for a fairer bride."
+
+"Let me congratulate you," Peter Gross began, but Muller stayed him.
+
+"No, not yet, _mynheer_. What I have said is for your ears alone.
+Remember, you know nothing."
+
+"Your confidence is safe with me," Peter Gross assured him.
+
+Muller suddenly recollected his duties as host.
+
+"Ho, _mynheer_, you must have some Hollands with me," he cried
+hospitably. "A toast to our good fellowship." He clapped his hands and
+Cho Seng appeared in the doorway.
+
+"A glass of lemonade or iced tea, if you please," Peter Gross stated.
+
+"You are a teetotaler?" Muller cried in dismay.
+
+"As resident of Bulungan, yes, _mynheer_. A servant of the state cannot
+be too careful."
+
+Muller laughed. "Lemonade and _jenever_, Cho Seng," he directed. "Well,
+_mynheer_, I'll wager you are the only resident in all the colonies that
+will not take his glass of Hollands. If it were not for _jenever_ many
+of us could not live in this inferno. Sometimes it is well to be able to
+forget for a short time."
+
+"If one has a burdened conscience," Peter Gross conditioned quietly.
+
+Muller started. He intuitively felt the words were not idle observation,
+and he glanced at Peter Gross doubtfully. The resident was looking over
+the broad expanse of sea, and presently remarked:
+
+"You have a splendid view here, _mynheer_. I hope the outlook from my
+house is half so good."
+
+Muller roused himself. "That is so, _mynheer_," he said. "I had almost
+forgotten; we will have to put your house in order at once. It has not
+been occupied for two years, and will need a thorough cleaning.
+Meanwhile you must be my guest."
+
+"I thank you, _mynheer_," Peter Gross replied quietly.
+
+"You will have an establishment, _mynheer_?" Muller asked curiously.
+"Have you brought servants? If not, I shall be glad to loan you Cho
+Seng."
+
+"Thank you, I am well provided," Peter Gross assured.
+
+Cho Seng padded out on the porch and served them. Being a well-trained
+servant, he scarcely glanced at his employer's guest, but Peter Gross
+favored him with a thoughtful stare.
+
+"Your servant has been with you a long time, _mynheer_?" he inquired
+carelessly.
+
+"A year, _mynheer_. I got him from Batavia. He was recommended by--a
+friend." The pause was perceptible.
+
+"His face seems familiar," Peter Gross remarked in an offhand manner.
+"But that's probably imagination. It is hard to tell these Chinese
+apart."
+
+Conscious of having said too much again, Muller made no reply. They
+sipped their drinks in silence, Peter Gross thinking deeply the while
+why Ah Sing should make a former waiter in his _rumah makan_ Muller's
+servant. Presently he said:
+
+"If it is not too much trouble, _mynheer_, could you show me my house?"
+
+"Gladly, _mynheer_," Muller exclaimed, rising with alacrity. "It is only
+a few steps. We will go at once."
+
+For the next half hour Peter Gross and he rambled through the dwelling.
+It was modeled closely after the _controlleur's_ own, with a similar
+green and white façade facing the sea. The atmosphere within was damp
+and musty, vermin scurried at their approach, but Peter Gross saw that
+the building could be made tenable in a few days. At last they came to a
+sequestered room on the north side, facing the hills. An almost level
+expanse of garden lay back of it.
+
+"This was Mynheer de Jonge's own apartment," Muller explained. "Here he
+did most of his work." He sighed heavily. "He was a fine old man. It is
+too bad the good God had to take him away from us."
+
+Peter Gross's lips pressed together tightly.
+
+"Mynheer de Jonge was careless of his health, I hear," he remarked. "One
+cannot be too careful in Bulungan. Therefore, _mynheer_, I must ask you
+to get me a crew of men busy at once erecting two long houses, after
+these plans." He took a drawing from his pocket and showed it to Muller.
+The _controlleur_ blinked at it with a puzzled frown.
+
+"These buildings will ruin the view, _mynheer_," he expostulated. "Such
+long huts--they are big enough for thirty men. What are they for?"
+
+"Protection against the fevers, _mynheer_," Peter Gross said dryly. "The
+fevers that killed Mynheer de Jonge."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That evening, when Peter Gross had returned to the ship, Muller and Van
+Slyck met to compare notes. The captain was still boiling with anger;
+the resident's visit to Fort Wilhelmina had not soothed his ruffled
+temper.
+
+"He told me he brought twenty-five irregulars with him for work in the
+bush," Van Slyck related. "They are a separate command, and won't be
+quartered in the fort. If this Yankee thinks he can meddle in the
+military affairs of the residency he will find he is greatly mistaken."
+
+"Where will they be quartered?" Muller asked.
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Maybe he will place them in the huts he has ordered me to build back of
+the residency," Muller remarked, rubbing his bald pate thoughtfully.
+
+"He told you to build some huts?" Van Slyck asked.
+
+"Yes, some long huts. Big enough for thirty men. He said they were to be
+a protection against the fevers."
+
+"The fevers?" Van Slyck exclaimed in amazement.
+
+"Yes, the fevers that killed Mynheer de Jonge, he said."
+
+Van Slyck's face became livid with passion. "Against the fevers that
+killed de Jonge, eh?" he snarled. "The damned Yankee will find there are
+more than fevers in Bulungan."
+
+He flashed a sharp look at Muller.
+
+"When you see Koyala," he said, "send her to me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+KOYALA'S DEFIANCE
+
+
+From his quarters in the residency building, the same room where his
+predecessor, the obstinate and perverse de Jonge, had lived his brief
+and inglorious career, Peter Gross looked across the rolling expanse to
+the jungle-crested hills of Bulungan.
+
+It was now two weeks since his coming. Many changes had been wrought
+during the fortnight. The residency had been cleared of vermin and made
+habitable. Paddy Rouse had been installed as secretary and general
+factotum. The tangle of cane, creeper growth, and nipa palm that had
+grown in the park of shapely tamarinds since de Jonge's death had been
+cut away. Two long, low buildings had been erected as barracks, and
+Captain Carver had converted the newly created plain into a
+drill-ground.
+
+They were drilling now, the khaki-clad twenty-five that had crossed the
+Java Sea with Peter Gross. Two weeks on shore, supplementing the
+shipboard quizzes on the drill manual, had welded them into an efficient
+command. The smartness and precision with which they executed maneuvers
+compelled a grudging admiration from the stolid Dutch soldiers of Fort
+Wilhelmina who strolled over daily to watch the drills.
+
+"They'll do, they'll do," Peter Gross assured himself with satisfaction.
+
+He stepped back to his desk and took a document from it. It was Muller's
+first report as _controlleur_. Peter Gross ran his eyes down the column
+of figures and frowned. The accounts balanced and were properly drawn
+up. The report seemed to be in great detail. Yet he felt that something
+was wrong. The expenses of administration had been heavy, enormously
+heavy, he noted. Instead of exporting rice Bulungan had been forced to
+import to make good crop losses, the report showed.
+
+"Mynheer Muller is a good accountant," he observed to himself. "But
+there are a few items we will have to inquire into." He laid the report
+aside.
+
+The door opened and Paddy Rouse entered. His bright red hair, scrubby
+nose, and freckled face were in odd contrast to his surroundings, so
+typically Dutch. Mynheer de Jonge had made this retreat a sanctuary, a
+bit of old Holland transplanted bodily without regard to differences of
+latitude and longitude. In the east wall was a blue-tile fireplace. On
+the mantel stood a big tobacco jar of Delftware with the familiar
+windmill pattern. Over it hung a long-stemmed Dutch pipe with its highly
+colored porcelain bowl. The pictures on the wall were Rembrandtesque,
+gentlemen in doublet and hose, with thin, refined, scholarly faces and
+the inevitable Vandyke beard.
+
+"A lady to see you, sir," Paddy Rouse announced with military curtness,
+saluting. The irrepressible Irish broke through in a sly twinkle. "She's
+a beauty, sir."
+
+Peter Gross controlled the start of surprise he felt. He intuitively
+guessed who his visitor was.
+
+"You may show her in," he announced.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And, Paddy--call Captain Carver, please."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+The shock of red hair darted away.
+
+Peter Gross looked out of the window again. The crucial moment, the
+moment he had looked forward to since accepting his appointment, was
+upon him. What should he say to her, this woman of two alien, utterly
+irreconcilable races, this woman so bitterly wronged, this woman with a
+hot shame in her heart that would not die? How should he approach her,
+how should he overcome her blind, unreasoning hatred against the
+dominant white race, how persuade her to trust him, to give her aid for
+the reclamation of Bulungan?
+
+At the same time he wondered why she had come. He had not anticipated
+this meeting so soon. Was there something back of it? As he asked
+himself the question his fingers drummed idly on the desk.
+
+While he was meditating he became suddenly aware of another presence in
+the room. Turning, he found himself looking into the eyes of a
+woman--the woman of his thoughts. She stood beside him, silent,
+possessed. There was a dagger in the snakeskin girdle she wore about
+her waist--a single thrust and she could have killed him. He looked at
+her steadily. Her glance was equally steady. He rose slowly.
+
+"You are the Juffrouw Koyala," he announced simply. "Good morning,
+_juffrouw_." He bowed.
+
+There was an instant's hesitation--or was it only his imagination, Peter
+Gross asked himself--then her form relaxed a trifle. So slight was the
+movement that he would not have been sure had not every muscle of her
+perfect body yielded to it with a supple, rhythmic grace.
+
+"Won't you be seated?" he remarked conventionally, and placed a chair
+for her. Not until then did she speak.
+
+"It is not necessary, _mynheer_. I have only a few words to say."
+
+The cold austerity of her voice chilled Peter Gross. Yet her tones were
+marvelously sweet--like silver bells, he thought. He bowed and waited
+expectantly. In a moment's interlude he took stock of her.
+
+She was dressed in the native fashion, sarong and kabaya, both of purest
+white. The kabaya reached to midway between the knees and ankles. Her
+limbs were bare, except for doe-skin sandals. The girdle about her waist
+was made from the skins of spotted pit vipers. The handle of the dagger
+it held was studded with gems, rubies, turquoises, and emeralds. A huge
+ruby, mounted on a pin, caught the kabaya above her breasts; outside of
+this she wore no jewelry. Her lustrous black hair hung loosely over her
+shoulders. Altogether a creature of the jungle, she looked at him with a
+glance in which defiance was but thinly concealed.
+
+"What did you wish to see me about?" Peter Gross asked when he saw that
+she was awaiting his permission to speak.
+
+Something like a spark shot from the glowing coals of her eyes. The
+tragic intensity of those eyes stirred anew the feeling of pity in the
+resident's heart.
+
+"I am told, _mynheer_, that the governor withdrew his offer for my
+person at your request," she said coldly.
+
+The statement was a question, Peter Gross felt, though put in the form
+of a declaration. He scrutinized her face sharply, striving to divine
+her object.
+
+"That is true, _juffrouw_," he acknowledged.
+
+"Why did you do this, _mynheer_?"
+
+Peter Gross did not answer at once. The direct question astonished him.
+
+"Why do you ask, _juffrouw_?" he parried.
+
+Her finely chiseled head tilted back. Very royal she looked, very
+queenly, a Diana of the tropic jungle.
+
+"Because Koyala Bintang Burung asks no favors from you, Mynheer Gross.
+Nor from any white man."
+
+It was a declaration of war. Peter Gross realized it, and his face
+saddened. He had expected opposition but not open defiance. He wondered
+what lay back of it. The Dyak blood in her, always treacherous, never
+acting without a purpose, was not frank without reason, he assured
+himself.
+
+"I had no intention of doing you a favor, _juffrouw_," he announced
+quietly.
+
+"What was your object, _mynheer_?"
+
+The words were hardly out of her mouth before she regretted them. The
+quick flash of her teeth as she bit her lips revealed the slip. Peter
+Gross instantly divined the reason--her hostility was so implacable that
+she would not even parley with him.
+
+"To do you justice, _juffrouw_," he replied.
+
+The words were like oil on flame. Her whole figure stiffened rigidly.
+The smoldering light in her eyes flashed into fire. The dusk in her face
+deepened to night. In a stifled voice, bitter with scorn, she cried:
+
+"I want none of your justice, _mynheer_."
+
+"No, I suppose not," Peter Gross assented heavily. His head sagged and
+he stared moodily into the fireplace. Koyala looked at him questioningly
+for a moment, then turned swiftly and glided toward the door. A word
+from Peter Gross interrupted her.
+
+"_Juffrouw!_"
+
+She turned slowly. The cold disdain her face expressed was magnificent.
+
+"What shall I do?" he entreated. His mild, gray eyes were fixed on her
+flaming orbs pleadingly. Her lips curled in scornful contempt.
+
+"That is for you to decide, _mynheer_," she replied.
+
+"Then I cross from the slate all that has been charged against you,
+_juffrouw_. You are free to come and go as you wish."
+
+A flash of anger crossed Koyala's face.
+
+"Your pardon is neither asked nor desired, _mynheer_," she retorted.
+
+"I must do my duty as I see it," Peter Gross replied. "All that I ask of
+you, _juffrouw_, is that you do not use your influence with the natives
+to hinder or oppose the plans I have for their betterment. May I have
+your pledge for that?"
+
+"I make no promises and give no pledges, _mynheer_," Koyala announced
+coldly.
+
+"I beg your pardon--I should not have asked it of you. All I ask is a
+chance to work out my plans without hindrance from those whose welfare I
+am seeking."
+
+Koyala's lips curled derisively. "You can promote our welfare best by
+going back to Java, _mynheer_," she retorted.
+
+Peter Gross looked at her sadly.
+
+"_Juffrouw_," he said, "you are speaking words that you do not know the
+meaning of. Leave Bulungan? What would happen then? The Chinese would
+come down on you from the north, the Bugis from the east, and the Bajaus
+from every corner of the sea. Your coasts would be harried, your people
+would be driven out of their towns to the jungles, trade would cease,
+the rice harvests would fail, starvation would come upon you. Your
+children would be torn from you to be sold in the slave-market. Your
+women would be stolen. You are a woman, _juffrouw_, a woman of education
+and understanding; you know what the white man saves you from."
+
+"And what have you whites given us in return for your protection?" she
+cried fiercely. "Your law, which is the right of a white man to cheat
+and rob the ignorant Dyak under the name of trade. Your garrisons in our
+city, which mean taking away our weapons so that our young men become
+soft in muscle and short in breath and can no longer make war like their
+fathers did. Your religion, which you force on us with a sword and do
+not believe yourself. Your morals, which have corrupted the former
+sanctity of our homes and have wrought an infamy unspeakable. Gin, to
+make our men stagger like fools; opium, to debauch us all! These are the
+white man's gifts to the Dyaks of Borneo. I would rather see my people
+free, with only their bows and arrows and sumpitans, fighting a losing
+fight in their jungles against the Malays and the Chinese slave-hunters,
+than be ruined by arrach and gin and opium like they are now."
+
+She was writhing in her passion. Her bosom rose and fell tumultuously,
+and her fingers opened and closed like the claws of an animal. In this
+mood she was a veritable tigress, Peter Gross thought.
+
+"All that you have said is the truth," he admitted. He looked very
+weary, his shoulders were bent, and he stared gloomily into the hearth.
+Koyala stared at him with a fierce intensity, half doubtful whether he
+was mocking her. But his dejection was too patent to be pretense.
+
+"If you believe that, why are you here?" she demanded.
+
+"Because I believe that Bulungan needs me to correct these evils,
+_juffrouw_," he replied gently.
+
+Koyala laughed shrilly, contemptuously. Peter Gross's form straightened
+and the thin, firm lines of his lips tightened. He lifted a restraining
+hand.
+
+"May I speak for a few moments, _juffrouw_?" he asked. "I want to tell
+you what I am planning to do for Bulungan. I shall put an end to the gin
+and opium trade. I shall drive the slave-hunters and the pirates from
+these seas, and the head-hunters from their _babas_ (jungles). I shall
+make Bulungan so peaceful that the rice-grower can plough, and sow, and
+harvest with never a backward look to see if an enemy is near him. I
+shall take the young men of Bulungan and train them in the art of war,
+that they may learn how to keep peace within their borders and the enemy
+without. I shall readjust the taxes so that the rich will pay their just
+share as well as the poor. I shall bring in honest tax-collectors who
+will account for the last grain of rice they receive. Before I shall
+finish my work the _Gustis_ (Princes) will break their krisses and the
+bushmen their sumpitans; hill Dyak and coast Dyak will sit under the
+same tapang tree and take sirih and betel from the same box, and the
+Kapala Kampong shall say to the people of his village--go to the groves
+and harvest the cocoanut, a tenth for me and a tenth for the state, and
+the balance for you and your children."
+
+Koyala looked at him searchingly. His tremendous earnestness seemed to
+impress her.
+
+"You have taken a big task upon yourself, _mynheer_," she observed.
+
+"I will do all this, _juffrouw_, if you will help me," Peter Gross
+affirmed solemnly.
+
+Scornful defiance leaped again into Koyala's eyes and she drew back
+proudly.
+
+"I, _mynheer_? I am a Dyak of Bulungan," she said.
+
+"You are half a daughter of my people," Peter Gross corrected. "You have
+had the training of a white woman. Whether you are friend or foe, you
+shall always be a white woman to me, _juffrouw_."
+
+A film came across Koyala's eyes. She started to reply, checked herself,
+and then spoke, lashing the words out between set teeth.
+
+"Promise upon promise, lie upon lie, that has been the way with you
+whites. I hate you all, I stand by my people."
+
+Swift as the bird whose name she bore, she flashed through the door.
+Peter Gross took a half-step forward to restrain her, stopped, and
+walked slowly back to his chair.
+
+"She will come back," he murmured to himself; "she will come back. I
+have sown the seed, and it has sunk in fertile ground."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the banyan grove Koyala, breathing rapidly because of her swift
+flight, came upon Kapitein Van Slyck. The captain rose eagerly as she
+darted through the cane.
+
+"What did he say?" he asked. "Did he try to make love to you?"
+
+Koyala turned on him furiously. "You are a fool, we are all fools!" she
+exclaimed. "He is more than a match for all of us. I will see you later,
+when I can think; not now." She left the clearing.
+
+Van Slyck stalked moodily back to the fort. At the edge of the grove he
+slashed viciously at a pale anemone.
+
+"Damn these women, you never can trust them," he snarled.
+
+When the only sounds audible in the clearing were the chirping of the
+crickets and the fluting of the birds, a thin, yellow face with watery
+eyes peered cautiously through the cane. Seeing the coast clear, Cho
+Seng padded decorously homeward to the _controlleur's_ house, stepping
+carefully in the center of the path where no snakes could lie
+concealed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE COUNCIL
+
+
+The council of the chiefs was assembling. From every part of Bulungan
+residency they came, the Rajahs and the Gustis, the Datu Bandars or
+governors of the Malay villages, and the Orang Kayas and Kapala
+Kampongs, the Dyak village heads. Their coming was in answer to the call
+of Peter Gross, resident, for messengers had been sent to every part of
+the province to announce that a great _bitchara_ (talk) was to be held
+in Bulungan town.
+
+They came in various ways. The Malay Datu Bandars of the coast towns,
+where the Malays were largely in the ascendent, voyaged in royal sailing
+proas, some of which were covered with canopies of silk. Each had twenty
+men or more, armed to the teeth, in his cortčge. The inland Rajahs
+traveled in even greater state. Relays of slaves carried them in sedan
+chairs, and fifty gleaming krisses marched before and fifty after. The
+humbler Orang Kayas and Kapala Kampongs came on foot, with not more than
+ten attendants in their trains, for a village head, regardless of the
+number of buffaloes in his herd, must not aspire to the same state as a
+Rajah, or even a Gusti. The Rajah Wobanguli received each arrival with
+a stately dignity befitting the ruler of the largest town in the
+residency, and assigned him and his people the necessary number of
+houses to shelter them.
+
+But these were not the only strangers in Bulungan. From all the country
+round, and from every village along the coast, Dyaks, Malays, Chinese,
+and Bugis, and the Bajau sea-wanderers, streamed into the town. The
+usually commodious market-place seemed to shrink and dwindle as the
+crowd of traders expanded, and the raucous cries of the venders rang
+about the street to a late hour at night.
+
+In every second house a cock-fight was in progress. Sweating, steaming
+bodies crushed each other in the narrow streets and threatened ruin to
+the thatched houses. Malays scowled at Dyaks, and Dyaks glared
+vindictively at Malays. Shrewd, bland Chinese intermingled with the
+crowd and raked in the silver and copper coins that seemed to flow
+toward them by a magnetic attraction. Fierce, piratical Bugis cast
+amorous glances at the Dyak belles who, although they shrank timidly
+into their fathers' huts, were not altogether displeased at having their
+charms noticed.
+
+There was hardly a moment without its bickering and fierce words, and
+there were frequent brawls when women fled shrieking, for hill Dyak and
+coast Dyak and Malay and Bugi could not meet at such close quarters
+without the feuds of untold generations breaking out.
+
+Foremost in the minds and on the lips of every individual in that
+reeking press of humanity was the question: "What will the _orang
+blanda_ (white man) want?" Speculation ran riot, rumor winged upon
+rumor, and no tale was too fantastical to lack ready repetition and
+credulous listeners. _Mynheer_ would exact heavy penalties for every act
+of piracy and killing traced back to Bulungan, so the stories ran;
+_mynheer_ would confiscate all the next rice crop; _mynheer_ would
+establish great plantations and every village would be required to
+furnish its quota of forced labor; _mynheer_ would demand the three
+handsomest youths from each village as hostages for future good
+behavior. Thus long before the council assembled, the tide was setting
+against Peter Gross.
+
+Bulungan was ripe and ready for revolt. It chafed under the fetters of a
+white man's administration, lightly as those fetters sat. Wildest of
+Borneo's residencies, it was the last refuge of the adventurous spirits
+of the Malay archipelago who found life in the established provinces of
+Java, Sumatra, and Celebes all too tame.
+
+They had tasted freedom for two years under Muller's innocuous
+administration and did not intend to permit the old order to be changed.
+Diverse as their opinions on other matters might be, bitter as their
+feuds might be, hill Dyak and coast Dyak, Malay, Chinese, Bugi, and
+Bajau were united on this point. So for the first time in Bulungan's
+history a feeling of unanimity pervaded a conclave of such mongrel
+elements as were now gathered in old "Rotterdam" town. This feeling was
+magnified by a report--originating, no one knew where, and spreading
+like wildfire--that the great Datu, the chief of all the pirates of the
+island seas, the mysterious and silent head of the great confederation,
+was in Bulungan and would advise the chiefs how to answer their new
+white governor.
+
+Peter Gross was not wholly ignorant of public sentiment in the town. One
+of Captain Carver's first acts on coming to Bulungan was to establish
+the nucleus of a secret service to keep him informed on public sentiment
+among the natives. A Dyak lad named Inchi, whom Carver had first hired
+to help with the coarsest camp work, and who had formed an immediate
+attachment for his soldierly white _baas_, was the first recruit in this
+service and brought in daily reports.
+
+"Inchi tells me that the chiefs have decided they will pay no more tax
+to the government," Carver announced to Peter Gross on the morning of
+the council. The resident and he were on the drill-ground where they
+could talk undisturbed. Peter Gross's lips tightened.
+
+"I expected opposition," he replied non-committally.
+
+"Too bad we haven't the _Prins Lodewyk_ here," Carver remarked. "A few
+shells around their ears might bring them to their senses."
+
+"We don't need such an extreme measure yet," Peter Gross deprecated
+gently.
+
+"I hardly know whether it's safe for us to venture into the town,"
+Carver observed. "Couldn't you arrange to have the meeting here, away
+from all that mob? There must be thirty thousand people down below."
+
+"I would rather meet them on their own ground."
+
+"It's a big risk. If there should be an attack, we couldn't hold them."
+
+"Thirty thousand against twenty-five would be rather long odds," Peter
+Gross assented, smiling.
+
+"You're going to use the fort garrison, too, aren't you?" Carver asked
+quickly.
+
+"I shall take just two people with me," Peter Gross announced.
+
+"My God, Mr. Gross! You'll never get back!" Carver's face was tense with
+anxiety.
+
+"Three people will be just as effective as twenty-six, captain," Peter
+Gross declared mildly. "The victory we must gain to-day is a moral
+victory--we must show the natives that we are not afraid."
+
+"But they're bound to break loose. A show of military force would
+restrain them--"
+
+"I think it would be more a provocation than a restraint, captain. They
+would see our helplessness. If I go alone they will reason that we are
+stronger than they think we are. Our confidence will beget uncertainty
+among them."
+
+Carver had long since learned the futility of trying to dissuade his
+chief from a course once adopted. He merely remarked:
+
+"Of course I'll go?"
+
+"I'm sorry, captain--" Peter Gross's face expressed sincere regret.
+"Nothing would please me more than to have you with me, but I can't
+spare you here."
+
+Carver realized that himself. He swallowed his disappointment.
+
+"Whom were you planning on taking?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"Inchi--"
+
+Carver nodded approval.
+
+--"And Paddy Rouse."
+
+"Paddy?" the captain exclaimed. "Of what use--I beg your pardon, Mr.
+Gross."
+
+Peter Gross smiled. "It does seem a peculiar mission to take that
+youngster on," he said. "But Paddy's going to be rarely useful to me
+to-day, useful in a way every man couldn't be. These natives have a
+superstitious reverence for red hair."
+
+An understanding smile broke upon Carver's face.
+
+"Of course. A mighty good idea. Bluff and superstition are two
+almighty-powerful weapons against savages."
+
+"I also hope that we shall have another ally there," Peter Gross said.
+
+"Who is that?"
+
+"The Juffrouw Koyala."
+
+Carver frowned. "Mr. Gross," he said, "I don't trust that woman. She's
+Dyak, and that's the most treacherous breed that was ever spawned. We've
+got to look out for her. She's an actress, and mighty clever in playing
+her little part, but she can't hide the hate in her heart. She'll keep
+us on the string and pretend she's won over, but the first chance she
+gets to strike, she'll do it. I've met that kind of woman in the
+Philippines."
+
+"I think you are wholly mistaken," Peter Gross replied decisively.
+
+Carver glanced at him quickly, searchingly. "She's a damn pretty woman,"
+he remarked musingly, and shot another quick glance at the resident.
+
+"That has nothing to do with the matter," Peter Gross replied sternly.
+
+Abruptly dropping the topic, Carver asked:
+
+"At what hour does the council meet?"
+
+"Four o'clock."
+
+"You'll be back by sundown?"
+
+"I am afraid not. I shall probably spend the night with Wobanguli."
+
+Carver groaned. "Send Inchi if things look as though they were going
+wrong," he said. "Might I suggest that you let him go to the village
+right away, and keep away from you altogether?"
+
+"If you'll instruct him so, please. In case there is trouble, throw your
+men into the fort." He took a package of papers from his pocket and gave
+them to Carver. "Here are some documents which I want you to take care
+of for me. They are all addressed. One of them is for you; it appoints
+you military commandant of Bulungan in case something should happen to
+me down below. Don't use it otherwise. If Van Slyck should make a fuss
+you will know how to handle him."
+
+"I understand," Carver replied shortly, and pocketed the envelope. He
+strode back to his shelter with a heavy heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+PETER GROSS'S PLEDGE
+
+
+The afternoon sun was pouring its full strength on the coral highway to
+Bulungan when Peter Gross rode to the council. He was mounted on a
+thoroughbred that he had brought with him from Java, and was in
+full-dress uniform. On his breast gleamed several decorations awarded
+him by Governor-General Van Schouten. It was the first time he had used
+them, and it was not vanity that inspired him to pin them on his coat.
+He realized the importance of employing every artifice to impress the
+native mind favorably toward its new ruler. Paddy Rouse was in
+field-service uniform, and rode a chestnut borrowed from the military
+stables.
+
+The terrific din created by several thousand gongs of brass, copper, and
+wood, beaten in every part of Bulungan to testify to the holiday, was
+plainly audible as they cantered along the road.
+
+"Sounds like the Fourth of July," Paddy remarked cheerfully.
+
+When they neared the village two Gustis, youthful Dyak chiefs with
+reputations yet to make, charged toward them with bared krisses. As the
+hoofs of their jet-black steeds thundered toward Peter Gross, Paddy gave
+his horse the spur and shot it half a length ahead of the resident. His
+hand was on the butt of his pistol when a low-voiced warning from his
+chief restrained him. Just as it seemed that they would be ridden down
+the horsemen parted and flashed by with krisses lifted to salute. They
+wheeled instantly and fell in behind the resident.
+
+"Whew," Paddy whistled softly. "I thought they meant business."
+
+"It was meant to do us honor," Peter Gross explained.
+
+More native princes spurred from the town to join the procession. In
+each instance the demonstration the same. Paddy noted that every one was
+mounted on a black horse and carried a kris whose handle was of either
+gold or ivory, and was studded with gems. None used saddles, but each
+horse was caparisoned with a gayly colored saddle-cloth embroidered with
+gold thread. The bridles were of many-colored cords and the bits of
+silver. He pointed out these things to Peter Gross in an undertone.
+
+"That shows that they are all of princely rank," Peter Gross informed
+him.
+
+The din from the gongs became almost deafening as they entered the
+outskirts of the town. The crowd thickened also, and it became
+increasingly difficult to break through the press. Paddy Rouse's eyes
+swam as he looked into the sea of black and brown faces grimacing and
+contorting. The scene was a riot of color; every native was dressed in
+his holiday best, which meant garments of the gaudiest and brightest
+dyes that his means enabled him to procure. Paddy noticed a patriarch in
+a pea-green velvet jacket, blue and orange chawat, or waist-cloth, and
+red, yellow, and blue kerchief head-dress. Most of the kerchief
+head-dresses, worn turban-fashion, were in three colors, blue
+predominating, he observed.
+
+"Big reception they're giving us," Paddy remarked.
+
+Peter Gross's reply was noncommittal. He felt a little of the forces
+that were at work beneath the surface, and realized how quickly this
+childishly curious, childishly happy mob could be converted into a
+bedlam of savagery.
+
+As they neared the huge twin Hindu deities, carved in stone, that formed
+the gate-posts of Wobanguli's palace grounds and the council-hall
+enclosure, the crowd massed so thickly that it was impossible for them
+to proceed. Paddy drove his horse into the press and split an aisle by a
+vicious display of hoofs and the liberal use of his quirt-stock. The
+crowd gave way sullenly, those behind refusing to give way for those in
+front. Paddy leaned sidewise in his saddle as they passed between the
+scowling gods.
+
+"Into the lion's den," he whispered to Peter Gross. His eye was
+sparkling; roughing the natives had whetted his appetite for action.
+
+Peter Gross sprang from his horse lightly--he had learned to ride before
+he went to sea--and entered the dimly lit hall. Rouse remained at the
+entrance and began looking about for Inchi. The little Malay was rubbing
+down a horse, but gave no sign of recognition when Rouse's glance met
+his. As Paddy looked away, his face, too, sobered. Only his eyes were
+more keenly alert.
+
+As Peter Gross became accustomed to the semi-darkness, he distinguished
+about forty chiefs and princes seated along the side walls of the
+building. There were two Europeans in the room in one corner. Peter
+Gross guessed their identity before he could distinguish their faces;
+they were Muller and Van Slyck.
+
+At the farther end of the hall was a platform. Two chairs of European
+make had been placed upon it. Wobanguli occupied one, the other was
+vacant. The hall was thick with smoke, for those who were not chewing
+betel were laboring on big Dutch pipes, introduced by their white
+rulers.
+
+Silence greeted Peter Gross as he slowly walked the length of the hall,
+and none rose to do him the customary honor. Instead of mounting the
+platform he remained standing at its base and looked sternly into the
+face of the Rajah. In a voice suspiciously sweet he asked:
+
+"Is it so long since a son of the white father has come to Bulungan that
+you have forgotten how he must be received, O Rajah?"
+
+There was a moment's pregnant pause, a moment when the royal mind did
+some quick thinking. Then Wobanguli rose and said:
+
+"We have heard the call and we are here, resident."
+
+The moment Wobanguli rose a quick rustle and the clicking of steel
+apprised Peter Gross that the others also had risen. Although he knew it
+was not in his honor--custom forbade lesser chiefs from sitting while
+the Rajah stood--he accepted it as such. He did not look around until he
+had mounted the platform. Then he gazed at each man individually.
+Something in his silent scrutiny sent a cold chill into the hearts of
+more than one of the chiefs who had endured it, but most of them
+returned it boldly and defiantly.
+
+Not until each of the forty had felt the power of his mesmeric glance
+did Peter Gross speak.
+
+"You may tell the council the purpose of this meting, Rajah," he
+announced, turning to Wobanguli, and then seated himself in the vacant
+chair.
+
+As Wobanguli came forward, Peter Gross had an opportunity to measure his
+man. The Rajah was tall, quite tall for a Bornean, powerfully built, but
+a trifle stoop-shouldered. His features were pronouncedly Malay rather
+than Dyak; there was a furtive look in his half-shut eyes that suggested
+craft and cunning, and his ever-ready smile was too suavely pleasant to
+deceive the resident.
+
+"A panther; he will be hard to tame," was Peter Gross's unspoken
+thought.
+
+Wobanguli began speaking in sonorous tones, using Malay-Dyak dialect,
+the _lingua franca_ of the residency.
+
+"Rajahs, Custis, Datus, and Kapalas, to-day hath Allah and the Hanu
+Token and the great god Djath given a new ruler to Bulungan."
+
+Peter Gross's brow contracted thoughtfully. It was apparent from
+Wobanguli's exordium that he was striving to please the adherents of
+every faith represented among the natives present. The Rajah continued:
+
+"In the days when the great fire mountains poured their rivers of flame
+into the boiling ocean our forefathers, led by the great god Djath, came
+to Borneo. They built villages and begat children. The fire mountains
+belched flame and molten rock, the great floods came to drown the
+mountains, the earth shook, and whole jungles were swallowed up; but
+ever our fathers clung to the island they had come to possess. Then
+Djath said: 'This is a strong people. I shall make it my own, my chosen
+people, and give to them and to their children's children forever the
+land of Borneo.'
+
+"From the seed of our fathers sprang many tribes. New nations came from
+over the sea and found habitation with us, and we called them 'brother.'
+Last of all came the white man. He sold us guns, and knives, and metals,
+and fine horses, and the drink that Allah says we must not touch, and
+opium. By and bye, when he was strong and we were weak, he said: 'I will
+give you a resident who shall be a father unto you. There will be no
+more killings, but every man shall have plenty of gongs and brass rings
+for his wives, and many bolts of brilliantly colored cloth, and much
+tobacco.' So we let the white man give us a ruler."
+
+There was an ominous stirring among the assembled chiefs. Peter Gross's
+face maintained an inscrutable calm, but he was thinking rapidly.
+Wobanguli's speech had all the elements of nitroglycerine, he realized.
+
+"It is now many moons since the first white father came to dwell with
+us," Wobanguli continued. "Three times has the great fire mountain
+belched flame and smoke to show she was angry with us, and three times
+have we given of our gifts to appease the spirits. We are poor. Our
+women hide their nakedness with the leaves of palm-trees. Our tribesmen
+carve their kris-handles from the branches of the ironwood-tree."
+
+He paused. The air was electric. Another word, a single passionate plea,
+would unsheath forty krisses, Peter Gross perceived. Wobanguli was
+looking at him, savage exultation leering in his eyes, but Peter Gross's
+face did not change a muscle, and he waited with an air of polite
+attention. Wobanguli faced the assembly again:
+
+"Our elder brother from over the sea, who was sent to us by the little
+father at Batavia, will tell us to-day how he will redeem the promises
+made to us," he announced. "I have spoken."
+
+So abrupt was the climax that Peter Gross scarcely realized the Rajah
+had concluded until he was back in his chair. There was a moment's
+dramatic hush. Conscious that Wobanguli had brought him to the very
+edge of a precipice as a test, conscious, too, that the Rajah was
+disappointed because his intended victim had failed to reveal the
+weakness he had expected to find, Peter Gross rose slowly and
+impressively to meet the glances of the forty chiefs now centered so
+hostilely upon him.
+
+"Princes of our residency of Bulungan"--he began; there was a stir in
+the crowd; he was using the native tongue, the same dialect Wobanguli
+had used--"the Rajah Wobanguli has told you the purpose of this meeting.
+He has told you of the promises made by those who were resident here
+before me. He has reminded you that these promises have not been
+fulfilled. But he has not told you why they were not fulfilled. I am
+here to-day to tell you the reason."
+
+A low, whistling sound, the simultaneous sharp intake of breath through
+the nostrils of forty men, filled the room. Pipes and betel and sirih
+were laid aside. Rajahs, governors, and princes craned their heads and
+looked ominously over the shafts of their spears at their resident.
+
+"There are in this land three peoples, or perhaps four," Peter Gross
+said. "Only two of these are the real owners of Borneo, the people whose
+fathers settled this island in the early days, as your Rajah has told
+you. They are the hill Dyaks and the sea Dyaks, who are one people
+though two nations. The Malays are outlanders. The Chinese are
+outlanders. They have the same right to live here that the white man
+has--no more, no less. That right comes from the increase in riches
+they bring and the trade they bring."
+
+A hoarse murmur arose. The Malay Datus' scowls were blacker. The Dyaks
+looked sullenly at their arch-enemies, the brown immigrants from
+Malacca.
+
+"Long before the first white man came here, the two nations of
+Dyaks--the Dyaks of the sea and the Dyaks of the hills--were at war with
+each other. The skulls of the people of each nation decorated the
+lodge-poles of their enemies. The Dyaks of the sea made treaties with
+the Bajaus, the Malays, the Bugis, and the Chinese sea-rovers. Together
+these people have driven the Dyaks of the hills far inland, almost to
+the crest of the great fire mountains. But the price they pay is the
+surrender of their strong men to row the proas of their masters, the
+pirates. The spring rains come, but the rice is left unsowed, for a fair
+crop attracts the spoilers, and only the poor are left in peace. Poverty
+has come upon your Dyaks. Your kris-handles are of wood, while those of
+your masters are of gold and jewels."
+
+Peter Gross paused. The Dyaks were glaring at the Malays, the Malays
+looked as fiercely back. Several chiefs were fingering their
+kris-handles. Muller was watching the tribesmen in anxious bewilderment;
+Van Slyck hid in the shadows.
+
+"Forget your feuds and listen to me," Peter Gross thundered in a voice
+of authority that focused instant attention upon him. "Let me tell you
+what I have come to do for Bulungan."
+
+He turned to a group of short, lithely built men armed with spears.
+
+"To you, hill Dyaks, I bring peace and an end of all raiding. No more
+shall the coast-rovers cross your borders. Your women will be safe while
+you hunt dammar gum and resin in the forests; the man who steals a woman
+against her will shall hang. I, your resident, have spoken."
+
+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. The _balas_ money 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. But swift 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 people are 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, my brothers,
+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 and they 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 thick and 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 Hanu Token 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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE POISONED ARROW
+
+
+"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 old man 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 at heart. 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 across the 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 the _Prins_ here."
+
+"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."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+A SUMMONS TO SADONG
+
+
+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
+     of _controlleurs_, whose rulings appeared unjust to me, and in
+     both cases my decision was in favor of the poorer litigant.
+     This has displeased some of the _orang 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 the _controlleur_ in 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 the _Prins 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 perfectly shaped those
+ankles were, and how delicately her exquisitely formed feet tapered in
+the soft, doe-skin sandals.
+
+"Well, _juffrouw_, which of my _controlleurs_ is 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 looked at
+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 were spoken, 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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+KOYALA'S ULTIMATUM
+
+
+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
+follow them 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-ŕ-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.
+
+"The _bilian_ is 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 than two 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 smoothed his 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 the _orang blanda_ out 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--laughed at my disgrace--yea, I know he
+was laughing, though he hid his smile with the cunning of the _orang
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+LKATH'S CONVERSION
+
+
+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 the _orang blanda_ chief 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 living flame. 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-ŕ-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 fitted out 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 the _balais_, 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, its possibilities 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 Dyak
+can 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 before _malam_"
+(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 her knees 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."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+CAPTURED BY PIRATES
+
+
+When they rose the next morning Peter Gross inquired for his host, but
+was met with evasive replies. A premonition that something had gone
+wrong came upon him. He asked for Koyala.
+
+"The Bintang Burung has flown to the jungle," one of the servant lads
+informed him after several of the older natives had shrugged their
+shoulders, professing ignorance.
+
+"When did she go?" he asked.
+
+"The stars were still shining, Datu, when she spread her wings," the lad
+replied. The feeling that something was wrong grew upon the resident.
+
+An hour passed, with no sign of Lkath. Attempting to leave the house,
+Peter Gross and Paddy were politely but firmly informed that they must
+await the summons to the _balais_, or assembly-hall, from the chieftain.
+
+"This is a rum go," Paddy grumbled.
+
+"I am very much afraid that something has happened to turn Lkath against
+us," Peter Gross remarked. "I wish Koyala had stayed."
+
+The summons to attend the _balais_ came a little later. When they
+entered the hall they saw a large crowd of natives assembled. Lkath was
+seated in the judge's seat. Peter Gross approached him to make the
+customary salutation, but Lkath rose and folded his hands over his
+chest.
+
+"Mynheer Resident," the chief said with dignity, "your mission in Sadong
+is accomplished. You have saved us from a needless war with the hill
+people. But I and the elders of my tribe have talked over this thing,
+and we have decided that it is best you should go. The Sadong Dyaks owe
+nothing to the _orang blanda_. They ask nothing of the _orang blanda_.
+You came in peace. Go in peace."
+
+A tumult of emotions rose in Peter Gross's breast. To see the fruits of
+his victory snatched from him in this way was unbearable. A wild desire
+to plead with Lkath, to force him to reason, came upon him, but he
+fought it down. It would only hurt his standing among the natives, he
+knew; he must command, not beg.
+
+"It shall be as you say, Lkath," he said. "Give me a pilot and let me
+go."
+
+"He awaits you on the beach," Lkath replied. With this curt dismissal,
+Peter Gross was forced to go.
+
+The failure of his mission weighed heavily upon Peter Gross, and he said
+little all that day. Paddy could see that his chief was wholly unable to
+account for Lkath's change of sentiment. Several times he heard the
+resident murmur: "If only Koyala had stayed."
+
+Shortly before sundown, while their proa was making slow headway
+against an unfavorable breeze Paddy noticed his chief standing on the
+raised afterdeck, watching another proa that had sailed out of a
+jungle-hid creek-mouth shortly before and was now following in their
+wake. He cocked an eye at the vessel himself and remarked:
+
+"Is that soap-dish faster than ours, or are we gaining?"
+
+"That is precisely what I am trying to decide," Peter Gross answered
+gravely.
+
+Paddy observed the note of concern in the resident's voice.
+
+"She isn't a pirate, is she?" he asked quickly.
+
+"I am very much afraid she is." Peter Gross spoke calmly, but Paddy
+noticed a tremor in his voice.
+
+"Then we'll have to fight for it?" he exclaimed.
+
+Peter Gross avoided a direct reply. "I'm wondering why she can stay so
+close inshore and outsail us," he said. "The wind is offshore, those
+high hills should cut her off from what little breeze we're getting, yet
+she neither gains nor loses an inch on us."
+
+"Why doesn't she come out where she can get the breeze?"
+
+"Ay, why doesn't she?" Peter Gross echoed. "If she were an honest trader
+she would. But keeping that course enables her to intercept us in case
+we should try to make shore."
+
+Paddy did not appear greatly disturbed at the prospect of a brush with
+pirates. In fact, there was something like a sparkle of anticipation in
+his eyes. But seeing his chief so concerned, he suggested soberly:
+
+"Can't we beat out to sea and lose them during the night?"
+
+"Not if this is the ship I fear it is," the resident answered gravely.
+
+"What ship?" The question was frankly curious.
+
+"Did you hear something like a muffled motor exhaust a little while
+ago?"
+
+Paddy looked up in surprise. "That's just what I thought it was, only I
+thought I must be crazy, imagining such a thing here."
+
+Peter Gross sighed. "I thought so," he said with gentle resignation. "It
+must be her."
+
+"Who? What?" There was no escaping the lad's eager curiosity.
+
+"The ghost proa. She's a pirate--Ah Sing's own ship, if reports be true.
+I've never seen her; few white men have; but there are stories enough
+about her, God knows. She's equipped with a big marine engine imported
+from New York, I've heard; and built like a launch, though she's got the
+trimmings of a proa. She can outrun any ship, steam or sail, this side
+of Hong Kong, and she's manned by a crew of fiends that never left a
+man, woman or child alive yet on any ship they've taken."
+
+Paddy's face whitened a little, and he looked earnestly at the ship.
+Presently he started and caught Peter Gross's arm.
+
+"There," he exclaimed. "The motor again! Did you hear it?"
+
+"Ay," Peter Gross replied. "We had gained a few hundred yards on them,
+and they've made it up."
+
+Paddy noted the furtive glances cast at them by the crew of their own
+proa, mostly Bugis and Bajaus, the sea-rovers and the sea-wash, with a
+slight sprinkling of Dyaks. He called Peter Gross's attention to it.
+
+"They know the proa," the resident said. "They'll neither fight nor run.
+The fight is ours, Paddy. You'd better get some rifles on deck."
+
+"We're going to fight?" Rouse asked eagerly.
+
+"Ay," Peter Gross answered soberly. "We'll fight to the end." He placed
+a hand on his protégé's shoulder.
+
+"I shouldn't have brought you here, my lad," he said. There was anguish
+in his voice. "I should have thought of this--"
+
+"I'll take my chances," Paddy interrupted gruffly, turning away. He dove
+into their tiny cubicle, a boxlike contrivance between decks, to secure
+rifles and cartridges. They carried revolvers. When he came up the sun
+was almost touching the rim of the horizon. The pursuing proa, he
+noticed had approached much nearer, almost within hailing distance.
+
+"They don't intend to lose us in the dark," he remarked cheerfully.
+
+"The moon rises early to-night," Peter Gross replied.
+
+A few minutes later, as the sun was beginning to make its thunderclap
+tropic descent, the _juragan_, or captain of the proa issued a sharp
+order. The crew leaped to the ropes and began hauling in sail. Peter
+Gross swung his rifle to his shoulder and covered the navigator.
+
+"Tell your crew to keep away from those sails," he said with deadly
+intentness.
+
+The _juragan_ hesitated a moment, glanced over his shoulder at the
+pursuing proa, and then reversed his orders. As the crew scrambled down
+they found themselves under Paddy's rifle.
+
+"Get below, every man of you," Peter Gross barked in the _lingua franca_
+of the islands. "Repeat that order, _juragan_!"
+
+The latter did so sullenly, and the crew dropped hastily below,
+apparently well content at keeping out of the impending hostilities.
+
+These happenings were plainly visible from the deck of the pursuing
+proa. The sharp chug-chug of a motor suddenly sounded, and the disguised
+launch darted forward like a hawk swooping down on a chicken. Casting
+aside all pretense, her crew showed themselves above the rail. There
+were at least fifty of them, mostly Chinese and Malays, fierce,
+wicked-looking men, big and powerful, some of them nearly as large,
+physically, as the resident himself. They were armed with magazine
+rifles and revolvers and long-bladed krisses. A rapid-firer was mounted
+on the forward deck.
+
+Paddy turned to his chief with a whimsical smile. "Pretty big contract,"
+he remarked with unimpaired cheerfulness.
+
+Peter Gross's face was white. He knew what Paddy did not know, the
+fiendish tortures the pirates inflicted on their hapless victims. He was
+debating whether it were more merciful to shoot the lad and then himself
+or to make a vain stand and take the chance of being rendered helpless
+by a wound.
+
+The launch was only a hundred yards away now--twenty yards. A cabin door
+on her aft deck opened and Peter Gross saw the face of Ah Sing, aglow in
+the dying rays of the sun with a fiendish malignancy and satisfaction.
+Lifting his rifle, he took quick aim.
+
+Four things happened almost simultaneously as his rifle cracked. One was
+Ah Sing staggering forward, another was a light footfall on the deck
+behind him and a terrific crash on his head that filled the western
+heavens from horizon to zenith with a blaze of glory, the third was the
+roaring of a revolver in his ear and Paddy's voice trailing into the dim
+distance:
+
+"I got you, damn you."
+
+When he awoke he found himself in a vile, evil-smelling hole, in utter
+darkness. He had a peculiar sensation in the pit of his stomach, and his
+lips and tongue were dry and brittle as cork. His head felt the size of
+a barrel. He groaned unconsciously.
+
+"Waking up, governor?" a cheerful voice asked. It was Paddy.
+
+By this time Peter Gross was aware, from the rolling motion, that they
+were at sea. After a confused moment he picked up the thread of memory
+where it had been broken off.
+
+"They got us, did they?" he asked.
+
+"They sure did," Paddy chirruped, as though it was quite a lark.
+
+"We haven't landed yet?"
+
+"We made one stop. Just a few hours, I guess, to get some grub aboard. I
+can't make out much of their lingo, but from what I've heard I believe
+we're headed for one of the coast towns where we can get a doctor. That
+shot of yours hit the old bird in the shoulder; he's scared half to
+death he's going to croak."
+
+"If he only does," Peter Gross prayed fervently under his breath. He
+asked Paddy: "How long have we been here?"
+
+"About fourteen hours, I'd say on a guess. We turned back a ways, made a
+stop, and then headed this way. I'm not much of a sailor, but I believe
+we've kept a straight course since. At least the roll of the launch
+hasn't changed any."
+
+"Fourteen hours," Peter Gross mused. "It might be toward Coti, or it
+might be the other way. Have they fed you?"
+
+"Not a blankety-blanked thing. Not even sea-water. I'm so dry I could
+swallow the Mississippi."
+
+Peter Gross made no comment. "Tell me what happened," he directed.
+
+Paddy, who was sitting cross-legged, tried to shuffle into a more
+comfortable position. In doing so he bumped his head against the top of
+their prison. "Ouch!" he exclaimed feelingly.
+
+"You're not hurt?" Peter Gross asked quickly.
+
+"A plug in the arm and a tunk on the head," Paddy acknowledged. "The one
+in my arm made me drop my rifle, but I got two of the snakes before they
+got me. Then I got three more with the gat before somebody landed me a
+lallapaloosa on the beano and I took the count. One of the
+steersmen--_jurumuddis_ you call 'em, don't you?--got you. We forgot
+about those chaps in the steersmen's box when we ordered the crew below.
+But I finished him. He's decorating a nice flat in a shark's belly by
+now."
+
+Peter Gross was silent.
+
+"Wonder why they didn't chuck us overboard," Paddy remarked after a
+time. "I thought that was the polite piratical stunt. Seeing they were
+so darned considerate, giving us this private apartment, they might
+rustle us some grub."
+
+"How shall I tell this light-hearted lad what is before us?" Peter Gross
+groaned in silent agony.
+
+A voluble chatter broke out overhead. Through the thin flooring they
+heard the sound of naked feet pattering toward the rail. A moment later
+the ship's course was altered and it began pitching heavily in the big
+rollers. Peter Gross sat bolt upright, listening intently.
+
+"What's stirring now?" Paddy asked.
+
+"Hist! I don't know," Peter Gross warned sharply.
+
+There was a harsh command to draw in sail, intelligible only to Peter
+Gross, for it was in the island patois. Paddy waited in breathless
+anticipation while Peter Gross, every muscle strained and tense,
+listened to the dissonancy above, creaking cordage, the flapping of
+bamboo sails, and the jargon of two-score excited men jabbering in their
+various tongues.
+
+There was a series of light explosions, and then a steady vibration
+shook the ship. It leaped ahead instantly in response to its powerful
+motor. It was hardly under way when they heard a whistling sound
+overhead. There was a moment's pause, then the dull boom of an explosion
+reached their ear.
+
+"We're under shell-fire!" Paddy gasped.
+
+"That must be the _Prins_," Peter Gross exclaimed. "I hope to Heaven
+Enckel doesn't know we're aboard."
+
+Another whistle of a passing shell and the thunder of an explosion. The
+two were almost simultaneous, the shell could not have fallen far from
+the launch's bow, both knew.
+
+"They may sink us!" Paddy cried in a half-breath.
+
+"Better drowning than torture." The curt reply was cut short by another
+shell. The explosion was more distant.
+
+"They're losing the range." Paddy exclaimed in a low voice. In a flash
+it came to him why Peter Gross had said: "I hope Enckel doesn't know
+we're here."
+
+Peter Gross stared, white, and silent into the blackness, waiting for
+the next shell. It was long in coming, and fell astern. A derisive shout
+rose from the pirates.
+
+"The _Prins_ is falling behind," Paddy cried despairingly.
+
+"Ay, the proa is too fast for her," the resident assented in a scarcely
+audible voice. Tears were coursing down his cheeks, tears for the lad
+that he had brought here to suffer unnameable tortures, for Peter Gross
+did not underestimate the fiendish ingenuity of Ah Sing and his crew. He
+felt grateful for the wall of darkness between them.
+
+"Well, there's more than one way to crawl out of a rain-barrel," Paddy
+observed with unimpaired cheerfulness.
+
+Peter Gross felt that he should speak and tell Rouse what they had to
+expect, but the words choked in his throat. Blissful ignorance and a
+natural buoyant optimism sustained the lad, it would be cruel to take
+them away, the resident thought. He groaned again.
+
+"Cheer up," Paddy cried, "we'll get another chance."
+
+The grotesqueness of the situation--his youthful protégé striving to
+raise his flagging spirits--came home to Peter Gross even in that moment
+of suffering and brought a rueful smile to his lips.
+
+"I'm afraid, my lad, that the _Prins_ was our last hope," he said. There
+was an almost fatherly sympathy in his voice, responsibility seemed to
+have added a decade to the slight disparity of years between them.
+
+"Rats!" Paddy grunted. "We're not going to turn in our checks just yet,
+governor. This bird's got to go ashore somewhere, and it'll be deuced
+funny if Cap Carver and the little lady don't figure out some way
+between 'em to get us out of this."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+IN THE TEMPLE
+
+
+The hatch above them opened. A bestial Chinese face, grinning cruelly,
+appeared in it.
+
+"You b'g-um fellow gettee outtee here plenty damn' quick!" the Chinaman
+barked. He thrust a piece of bamboo into the hole and prodded the
+helpless captives below with a savage energy. The third thrust of the
+cane found Peter Gross's ribs. With a hoarse cry of anger Paddy sprang
+to his feet and shot his fist into the Chinaman's face before the
+resident could cry a warning.
+
+The blow caught the pirate between the eyes and hurled him back on the
+deck. He gazed at Paddy a dazed moment and then sprang to his feet.
+Lifting the cane in both his hands above his head, he uttered a shriek
+of fury and would have driven the weapon through Rouse's body had not a
+giant Bugi, standing near by, jumped forward and caught his arm.
+
+Wrestling with the maddened Chinaman, the Bugi shouted some words wholly
+unintelligible to Paddy in the pirate's ear. Peter Gross scrambled to
+his feet.
+
+"Jump on deck, my lad," he shouted. "Quick, let them see you. It may
+save us."
+
+Paddy obeyed. The morning sun, about four hours high, played through his
+rumpled hair, the auburn gleaming like flame. Malays, Dyaks, and Bugis,
+attracted by the noise of the struggle, crowded round and pointed at
+him, muttering superstitiously.
+
+"Act like a madman," Peter Gross whispered hoarsely to his aide.
+
+Paddy broke into a shriek of foolish laughter. He shook as though
+overcome with mirth, and folded his arms over his stomach as he rocked
+back and forth. Suddenly straightening, he yelled a shrill "Whoopee!"
+The next moment he executed a handspring into the midst of the natives,
+almost upsetting one of them. The circle widened. A Chinese mate tried
+to interfere, but the indignant islanders thrust him violently aside. He
+shouted to the _juragan_, who ran forward, waving a pistol.
+
+Every one of the crew was similarly armed, and every one wore a kris.
+They formed in a crescent between their officer and the captives. In a
+twinkling Peter Gross and Rouse found themselves encircled by a wall of
+steel.
+
+The _juragan's_ automatic dropped to a dead level with the eyes of the
+Bugi who had saved Paddy. He bellowed an angry command, but the Bugi
+closed his eyes and lowered his head resignedly, nodding in negation.
+The other islanders stood firm. The Chinese of the crew ranged
+themselves behind their captain and a bloody fight seemed imminent.
+
+A Dyak left the ranks and began talking volubly to the _juragan_,
+gesticulating wildly and pointing at Paddy Rouse and then at the sun. A
+crooning murmur of assent arose from the native portion of the crew. The
+_juragan_ retorted sharply. The Dyak broke into another volley of
+protestations. Paddy looked on with a glaringly stupid smile. The
+_juragan_ watched him suspiciously while the Dyak talked, but gradually
+his scowl faded. At last he gave a peremptory command and stalked away.
+The crew returned to their duties.
+
+"We're to be allowed to stay on deck as long as we behave ourselves
+until we near shore, or unless some trader passes us," Peter Gross said
+in a low voice to Rouse. Paddy blinked to show that he understood, and
+burst into shouts of foolish laughter, hopping around on all fours. The
+natives respectfully made room for him. He kept up these antics at
+intervals during the day, while Peter Gross, remaining in the shade of
+the cabin, watched the pirates. After prying into every part of the
+vessel with a childish curiosity that none of the crew sought to
+restrain, Paddy returned to his chief and reported in a low whisper:
+
+"The old bird isn't aboard, governor."
+
+"I rather suspected he wasn't," Peter Gross answered. "He must have been
+put ashore at the stop you spoke of."
+
+It was late that day when the proa, after running coastwise all day,
+turned a quarter circle into one of the numerous bays indenting the
+coast. Peter Gross recognized the familiar headlands crowning Bulungan
+Bay. Paddy also recognized them, for he cried:
+
+"They're bringing us back home."
+
+At that moment the tall Bugi who had been their sponsor approached them
+and made signs to indicate that they must return to the box between
+decks from which he had rescued them. He tried to show by signs and
+gestures his profound regret at the necessity of locking them up again,
+his anxiety to convince the "son of the Gunong Agong" was almost
+ludicrous. Realizing the futility of objecting, Peter Gross and Paddy
+permitted themselves to be locked in the place once more.
+
+It was quite dark and the stars were shining brightly when the hatch was
+lifted again. As they rose from their cramped positions and tried to
+make out the circle of faces about them, unceremonious hands yanked them
+to the deck, thrust foul-smelling cloths into their mouths, blindfolded
+them, and trussed their hands and feet with stout cords. They were
+lowered into a boat, and after a brief row were tossed on the beach like
+so many sacks of wool, placed in boxlike receptacles, and hurried
+inland. Two hours' steady jogging followed, in which they were thrown
+about until every inch of skin on their bodies was raw with bruises.
+They were then taken out of the boxes and the cloths and cords were
+removed.
+
+Looking about, Peter Gross and Paddy found themselves in the enclosed
+court of what was evidently the ruins of an ancient Hindoo temple. The
+massive columns, silvery in the bright moonlight, were covered with
+inscriptions and outline drawings, crudely made in hieroglyphic art. In
+the center of one wall was the chipped and weather-scarred pedestal of a
+Buddha. The idol itself, headless, lay broken in two on the floor beside
+it. Peter Gross's brow puckered--the very existence of such a temple two
+hours' journey distant from Bulungan Bay had been unknown to him.
+
+The _juragan_ and his Chinese left after giving sharp instructions to
+their jailers, two Chinese, to guard them well. Peter Gross and Paddy
+looked about in vain for a single friendly face or even the face of a
+brown-skinned man--every member of the party was Chinese. The jailers
+demonstrated their capacity by promptly thrusting their prisoners into a
+dark room off the main court. It was built of stone, like the rest of
+the temple.
+
+"Not much chance for digging out of here," Rouse observed, after
+examining the huge stones, literally mortised together, and the narrow
+window aperture with its iron gratings. Peter Gross also made as careful
+an examination of their prison as the darkness permitted.
+
+"We may as well make ourselves comfortable," was his only observation at
+the close of his investigation.
+
+They chatted a short time, and at last Paddy, worn out by his exertions,
+fell asleep. Peter Gross listened for a while to the lad's rhythmic
+breathing, then tip-toed to the gratings and pulled himself up to them.
+A cackle of derisive laughter arose outside. Realizing that the place
+was carefully watched, he dropped back to the floor and began pacing the
+chamber, his head lowered in thought. Presently he stopped beside Rouse
+and gazed into the lad's upturned face, blissfully serene in the
+innocent confidence of youth. Tears gathered in his eyes.
+
+"I shouldn't have brought him here; I shouldn't have brought him here,"
+he muttered brokenly.
+
+The scraping of the ponderous bar that bolted the door interrupted his
+meditations shortly after daybreak. The door creaked rustily on its
+hinges, and an ugly, leering Chinese face peered inside. Satisfying
+himself that his prisoners were not planning mischief, the Chinaman
+thrust two bowls of soggy rice and a pannikin of water inside and
+gestured to Peter Gross that he must eat. The indignant protest of the
+door as it closed awoke Paddy, who sat bolt upright and blinked sleepily
+until he saw the food.
+
+"What? Time for breakfast?" he exclaimed with an amiable grin. "I must
+have overslept."
+
+He picked up a bowl of rice, stirred it critically with one of the
+chopsticks their jailers had provided, and snuffed at the mixture. He
+put it down with a wry face.
+
+"Whew!" he whistled. "It's stale."
+
+"You had better try to eat something," Peter Gross advised.
+
+"I'm that hungry I could eat toasted sole leather," Paddy confessed.
+"But this stuff smells to heaven."
+
+Peter Gross took the other bowl and began eating, wielding the
+chopsticks expertly.
+
+"It isn't half bad--I've had worse rations on board your uncle's ship,"
+he encouraged.
+
+"Then my dear old avunculus ought to be hung," Paddy declared with
+conviction. Hunger and his superior's example finally overcame his
+scruples, however, and presently he was eating with gusto.
+
+"Faith," he exclaimed, "I've got more appetite than I imagined."
+
+Peter Gross did not answer. He was wondering whether the rice was
+poisoned, and half hoped it was. It would be an easier death than by
+torture, he thought. But he forebore mentioning this to Paddy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+AH SING'S VENGEANCE
+
+
+Two days, whose monotony was varied only by occasional visits from one
+or another of their jailers, passed in this way. Peter Gross's faint
+hope that they might be able to escape by overpowering the Chinamen,
+while the latter brought them their meals, faded; the jailers had
+evidently been particularly cautioned against such an attempt and were
+on their guard.
+
+On the afternoon of the second day a commotion in the fore-court of the
+temple, distinctly audible through the gratings, raised their curiosity
+to fever heat. They listened intently and tried to distinguish voices
+and words in the hubbub, but were unsuccessful. It was apparent,
+however, that a large party had arrived. There were fully a hundred men
+in it, Peter Gross guessed, possibly twice that number.
+
+"What's this?" Paddy asked.
+
+Peter Gross's face was set in hard, firm lines, and there was an
+imperious note in his voice as he said:
+
+"Come here, Paddy. I have a few words to say to you."
+
+Paddy's face lost its familiar smile as he followed his chief to the
+corner of their prison farthest from the door.
+
+"I don't know what this means, but I rather suspect that Ah Sing has
+arrived," Peter Gross said. He strove to speak calmly, but his voice
+broke. "If that is the case, we will probably part. You will not see me
+again. You may escape, but it is doubtful. If you see the slightest
+chance to get away, take it. Being shot or krissed is a quicker death
+than by torture."
+
+In spite of his effort at self-control, Paddy's face blanched.
+
+"By torture?" he asked in a low voice of amazement.
+
+"That is what we may expect," Peter Gross declared curtly.
+
+Paddy breathed hard a moment. Then he laid an impulsive hand on his
+leader's arm.
+
+"Let's rush 'em the minute the door opens, Mr. Gross."
+
+Peter Gross shook his head in negation. "While there is life there is
+hope," he said, smiling.
+
+Paddy did not perceive that his chief was offering himself in the hope
+that his death might appease the pirate's craving for vengeance.
+
+They strolled about, their hearts too full for speech. Presently Paddy
+lifted his head alertly and signaled for silence. He was standing near
+the window and raised himself on tiptoe to catch the sounds coming
+through. Peter Gross walked softly toward him.
+
+"What is it?" he asked.
+
+"I thought I heard a white man speaking just now," Paddy whispered. "It
+sounded like Van Slyck's voice--Hist!"
+
+A low murmur of ironic laughter came through the gratings. Peter Gross's
+face became black with anger. There was no doubting who it was that had
+laughed.
+
+A few minutes later they heard the scraping of the heavy bar as it was
+lifted out of its socket, then the door opened. Several armed Chinamen,
+giants of their race, sprang inside. Ah Sing entered behind them,
+pointed at Peter Gross, and issued a harsh, guttural command.
+
+The resident walked forward and passively submitted to the rough hands
+placed upon him. Paddy tried to follow, but two of the guards thrust him
+back so roughly that he fell. Furious with anger, he leaped to his feet
+and sprang at one of them, but the Chinaman caught him, doubled his arm
+with a jiu-jitsu trick, and then threw him down again. The other prodded
+him with a spear. Inwardly raging, Paddy lay motionless until the guards
+tired of their sport and left him.
+
+In the meantime Peter Gross was half led, half dragged through the
+fore-court of the temple into another chamber. Those behind him prodded
+him with spear-points, those in front spit in his face. He stumbled, and
+as he regained his balance four barbs entered his back and legs, but his
+teeth were grimly set and he made no sound. Although he gazed about for
+Van Slyck, he saw no signs of him; the captain had unquestionably deemed
+it best to keep out of sight.
+
+In the chamber, at Ah Sing's command, they bound him securely hand and
+foot, with thongs of crocodile hide. Then the guards filed out and left
+the pirate chief alone with his prisoner.
+
+As the doors closed on them Ah Sing walked slowly toward the resident,
+who was lying on his back on the tessellated pavement. Peter Gross
+looked back calmly into the eyes that were fixed so gloatingly upon him.
+In them he read no sign of mercy. They shone with a savage exultation
+and fiendish cruelty. Ah Sing sighed a sigh of satisfaction.
+
+"Why you don't speak, Mynheer Gross?" he asked, mimicking Van Schouten's
+raspy voice.
+
+Peter Gross made no reply, but continued staring tranquilly into the
+face of his arch-enemy.
+
+"Mebbe you comee Ah Sing's house for two-three men?" the pirate chief
+suggested with a wicked grin.
+
+"Mebbe you show Ah Sing one damn' fine ring Mauritius?" the pirate chief
+mocked.
+
+Peter Gross did not flick an eyelash. A spasm of passion flashed over Ah
+Sing's face, and he kicked the resident violently.
+
+"Speakee, Chlistian dog," he snarled.
+
+Peter Gross's lips twitched with pain, but he did not utter a sound.
+
+"I teachum you speakee Ah Sing," the pirate declared grimly. Whipping a
+dagger from his girdle, he thrust it between Peter Gross's fourth and
+fifth ribs next to his heart. The point entered the skin, but Peter
+Gross made no sound. It penetrated a quarter-inch.
+
+Ah Sing, smiling evilly, searched the face of his victim for an
+expression of fear or pain. Three-eighths of an inch, half an
+inch--Peter Gross suddenly lunged forward. An involuntary contraction of
+his facial muscles betrayed him, and the Chinaman pulled the dagger away
+before the resident could impale himself upon it. He stepped back, and a
+look of admiration came upon his face--it was the tribute of one strong
+man to another.
+
+"Peter him muchee likee go _sangjang_ (hades)," he observed. "Ah Sing
+sendee him to-mollow, piecee, piecee, plenty much talkee then." The
+pirate indicated with strokes of his dagger that he would cut off Peter
+Gross's toes, fingers, ears, nose, arms, and legs piecemeal at the
+torture. Giving his victim another violent kick, he turned and passed
+through the door. A few minutes later a native physician came in with
+two armed guards and staunched the flow of blood, applying bandages with
+dressings of herbs to subdue inflammation.
+
+Night settled soon after. The darkness in the chamber was abysmal. Peter
+Gross lay on one side and stared into the blackness, waiting for the
+morning, the morning Ah Sing promised to make his last. Rats scurried
+about the floor and stopped to sniff suspiciously at him. At times he
+wished they were numerous enough to attack him. He knew full well the
+savage ingenuity of the wretches into whose hands he had fallen for
+devising tortures unspeakable, unendurable.
+
+Dawn came at last. The first rays of the sun peeping through the
+gratings found him asleep. Exhausted nature had demanded her toll, and
+even the horror of his situation had failed to banish slumber from his
+heavy lids. As the sun rose and gained strength the temperature sensibly
+increased, but Peter Gross slept on.
+
+He awoke naturally. Stretching himself to ease his stiffened limbs, he
+felt a sharp twitch of pain that brought instant remembrance. He
+struggled to a sitting posture. The position of the sun's rays on the
+wall indicated that the morning was well advanced.
+
+He listened for the camp sounds, wondering why his captors had not
+appeared for him before now. There was no sound outside except the
+soughing of the wind through the jungle and the lackadaisical chatter of
+the pargams and lories.
+
+"Strange!" he muttered to himself. "It can't be that they've left."
+
+His shoulders were aching frightfully, and he tugged at his bonds to get
+his hands free, but they were too firmly bound to be released by his
+unaided efforts. His clothing, he noticed, was almost drenched, the
+heavy night dew had clustered thickly upon it. So does man cling to the
+minor comforts even in his extremity that he labored to bring himself
+within the narrow park of the sun's rays to dry his clothing.
+
+He was still enjoying his sun-bath when he heard the bar that fastened
+the door of his chamber lifted from its sockets. His lips closed firmly.
+A half-uttered prayer, "God give me strength," floated upward, then the
+door opened. An armed guard, one of his jailers for the past two days,
+peered inside.
+
+Seeing his prisoner firmly bound, he ventured within with the customary
+bowl of rice and pannikin of water. A slash of his kris cut the thongs
+binding Peter Gross's hands, then the jailer backed to the door while
+the resident slowly and dazedly unwound the thongs that had bound him.
+
+Expecting nothing else than that he would be led to the torture,
+persuaded that the door would be opened for no other purpose, Peter
+Gross could not comprehend for a few moments what had happened. Then he
+realized that a few hours of additional grace had been vouchsafed him,
+and that Ah Sing and his crew must have left.
+
+He wondered why food was offered him. In the imminent expectancy of
+death, the very thought of eating had nauseated him the moment before.
+Yet to have this shadow removed, if only for a few hours, brought him an
+appetite. He ate with relish, the guard watching him in the meantime
+with cat-like intentness and holding his spear in instant readiness. As
+soon as the resident had finished he bore the dishes away, barring the
+door carefully again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+A RESCUE
+
+
+Released from his bonds, for the jailer had not replaced these, Peter
+Gross spent the hours in comparative comfort. He amused himself in
+examining every inch of the cell in the faint hope that he might find a
+weak spot, and in meditating other plans of escape. Although missing
+Paddy's ready smile and readier chaff greatly, he did not worry about
+the lad, for since he was safe himself he reasoned that his subordinate
+must be.
+
+Late in the afternoon, while he was pacing his cell, the sharp crack of
+a rifle suddenly broke the forest stillness. Holding himself tense and
+rigid with every fiber thrilling at the thought of rescue, he listened
+for the repetition of the shot. It came quickly, mingled with a
+blood-curdling yell from a hundred or more savage throats. There were
+other scattered shots.
+
+His finger-nails bit into his palms, and his heart seemed to stand
+still. Had Carver found him? Were these Dyaks friends or enemies? The
+next few moments seemed that many eternities; then he heard a ringing
+American shout:
+
+"We've got 'em all, boys; come on!"
+
+Peter Gross leaped to the grating. "Here, Carver, here!" he shouted at
+the top of his voice.
+
+"Coming!" twenty or more voices shouted in a scattered chorus. There was
+a rush of feet, leather-shod feet, across the fore-court pavement. The
+heavy bar was lifted. Striving to remain calm, although his heart beat
+tumultuously, Peter Gross waited in the center of the chamber until the
+door opened and Carver sprang within.
+
+The captain blinked to accustom himself to the light. Peter Gross
+stepped forward and their hands clasped.
+
+"In time, Mr. Gross, thank God!" Carver exclaimed. "Where's Paddy?"
+
+"In the other chamber; I'll show you," Peter Gross answered. He sprang
+out of his cell like a colt from the barrier and led the way on the
+double-quick to the cell that had housed him and Paddy for two days.
+Carver and he lifted the bar together and forced the door. The cell was
+empty.
+
+It took a full minute for the resident to comprehend this fact. He
+stared dazedly at every inch of the floor and wall, exploring bare
+corners with an eager eye, as though Paddy might be hiding in some nook
+or cranny. But the tenantless condition of the chamber was indisputable.
+
+A half-sob broke in Peter Gross's throat. It was the first emotion he
+had given way to.
+
+"They've taken him away," he said in a low, strained voice.
+
+"Search the temple!" Carver shouted in a stentorian voice to several of
+his command. "Get Jahi to help; he probably knows this place."
+
+"Jahi's here?" Peter Gross exclaimed incredulously.
+
+"He and a hundred hillmen," Carver replied crisply. "Now to comb this
+pile."
+
+The tribesmen scattered to search the ruin. It was not extensive. In the
+meantime Peter Gross briefly sketched the happenings of the past few
+days to Carver. At the mention of Van Slyck the captain's face became
+livid.
+
+"The damn' skunk said he was going to Padang," he exclaimed. "He left
+Banning in charge. I hope to God he stays away."
+
+One of Jahi's hillmen reported that no trace of Rouse could be found.
+"Him no here; him in bush," he said.
+
+"The Chinks have gone back to their proas; the trail heads that way,"
+Carver said. "Some of Jahi's boys picked it up before we found you. But
+what the deuce do they want with Rouse, if they haven't killed him?"
+
+"He's alive," Peter Gross declared confidently, although his own heart
+was heavy with misgiving. "We've got to rescue him."
+
+"They've got at least five hours the start of us," Carver remarked. "How
+far are we from the seacoast?"
+
+Peter Gross's reply was as militarily curt as the captain's question.
+
+"About two hours' march."
+
+"They're probably at sea. We'll take a chance, though." He glanced
+upward at the sound of a footfall. "Ah, here's Jahi."
+
+Peter Gross turned to the chieftain who had so promptly lived up to his
+oath of brotherhood. Warm with gratitude, he longed to crush the Dyak's
+hand within his own, but restrained himself, knowing how the Borneans
+despised display of emotion. Instead he greeted the chief formally,
+rubbing noses according to the custom of the country.
+
+No word of thanks crossed his lips, for he realized that Jahi would be
+offended if he spoke. Such a service was due from brother to brother,
+according to the Dyak code.
+
+"Rajah, can we catch those China boys before they reach their proas?"
+Carver asked.
+
+"No can catch," Jahi replied.
+
+"Can we catch them before they sail?"
+
+"No can say."
+
+"How far is it?"
+
+They were standing near a lone column of stone that threw a short shadow
+toward them. Jahi touched the pavement with his spear at a point about
+six inches beyond the end of the shadow.
+
+"When there shall have reached by so far the finger of the sun," he
+declared.
+
+Both Carver and Peter Gross understood that he was designating how much
+longer the shadow must grow.
+
+"About two hours, as you said," Carver remarked to his chief. "We'd
+better start at once."
+
+Jahi bowed to indicate that he had understood. He took some soiled
+sheets of China rice paper from his chawat.
+
+"Here are skins that talk, _mynheer kapitein_," he said respectfully.
+"Dyak boy find him in China boy kampong."
+
+Carver thrust them into his pocket without looking at them and blew his
+whistle. A few minutes later they began the march to the sea.
+
+While they were speeding through a leafy tunnel with Jahi's Dyaks
+covering the front and rear to guard against surprise, Carver found
+opportunity to explain to Peter Gross how he had been able to make the
+rescue. Koyala had learned Ah Sing's plans from a native source and had
+hastened to Jahi, who was watching the borders of his range to guard
+against a surprise attack by Lkath. Jahi, on Koyala's advice, had made a
+forced march to within ten miles of Bulungan, where Carver, summoned by
+Koyala, had joined him. Starting at midnight, they had made an
+eight-hour march to the temple.
+
+"Koyala again," Peter Gross remarked. "She has been our good angel all
+the way."
+
+Carver was silent. The resident looked at him curiously.
+
+"I am surprised that you believed her so readily," he said. They jogged
+along some distance before the captain replied.
+
+"I believed her. But I don't believe in her," he said.
+
+"Something's happened since to cause you to lose confidence in her?"
+Peter Gross asked quickly.
+
+"No, nothing specific. Only Muller and his _controlleurs_ are having the
+devil's own time getting the census. Many of the chiefs won't even let
+them enter their villages. Somebody has been stirring them up. And there
+have been raids--"
+
+"So you assume it's Koyala?" Peter Gross demanded harshly.
+
+Carver evaded a reply. "I got a report that the priests are preaching a
+holy war among the Malay and Dyak Mohammedans."
+
+"That is bad, bad," Peter Gross observed, frowning thoughtfully. "We
+must find out who is at the bottom of this."
+
+"The Argus Pheasant isn't flying around the country for nothing," Carver
+suggested, but stopped abruptly as he saw the flash of anger that
+crossed his superior's face.
+
+"Every success we have had is due to her," Peter Gross asserted sharply.
+"She saved my life three times."
+
+Carver hazarded one more effort.
+
+"Granted. For some reason we don't know she thinks it's to her interest
+to keep you alive--for the present. But she has an object. I can't make
+it out yet, but I'm going to--" The captain's lips closed resolutely.
+
+"You condemned her before you saw her because she has Dyak blood," Peter
+Gross accused. "It isn't fair."
+
+"I'd like her a lot more if she wasn't so confounded friendly," Carver
+replied dryly.
+
+Peter Gross did not answer, and by tacit consent the subject was
+dropped.
+
+Captain Carver was looking at his watch--the two hours were more than
+up--when Jahi, who had been in the van, stole back and lifted his hand
+in signal for silence.
+
+"_Orang blanda_ here stay, Dyak boy smell kampong," he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+THE FIGHT ON THE BEACH
+
+
+Carver gave a low-voiced command to halt, and enjoined his men to see to
+their weapons. As he ran his eyes over his company and saw their dogged
+jaws and alert, watchful faces, devoid of any trace of nervousness and
+excitability, his face lit with a quiet satisfaction. These men would
+fight--they were veterans who knew how to fight, and they had a motive;
+Paddy was a universal favorite.
+
+A Dyak plunged through the bush toward Jahi and jabbered excitedly. Jahi
+cried:
+
+"China boy, him go proa, three-four sampan."
+
+"Lead the way," Carver cried. Peter Gross translated.
+
+"Double time," the captain shouted, as Jahi and his tribesmen plunged
+through the bush at a pace too swift for even Peter Gross.
+
+In less than three minutes they reached the edge of the jungle, back
+about fifty yards from the coral beach. Four hundred yards from shore a
+proa was being loaded from several large sampans. Some distance out to
+sea, near the horizon, was another proa.
+
+A sharp command from Carver kept his men from rushing out on the beach
+in their ardor. In a moment or two every rifle in the company was
+covering the sampans. But there were sharp eyes and ears on board the
+proa as well as on shore, and a cry of alarm was given from the deck.
+The Chinese in the sampans leaped upward. At the same moment Carver gave
+the command to fire.
+
+Fully twenty Chinamen on the two sampans floating on the leeward side of
+the proa made the leap to her deck, and of these eleven fell back, so
+deadly was the fire. Only two of them dropped into the boats, the others
+falling into the sea. Equipped with the latest type of magazine rifle,
+Carver's irregulars continued pumping lead into the proa. Several
+Chinamen thrust rifles over the rail and attempted a reply, but when one
+dropped back with a bullet through his forehead and another with a
+creased skull, they desisted and took refuge behind the ship's
+steel-jacketed rail. Perceiving that the proa was armored against
+rifle-fire, Carver ordered all but six of his command to cease firing,
+the six making things sufficiently hot to keep the pirates from
+replying.
+
+The sampans were sinking. Built of skins placed around a bamboo frame,
+they had been badly cut by the first discharge. As one of them lowered
+to the gunwale, those on shore could see a wounded Chinaman, scarce able
+to crawl, beg his companions to throw him a rope. A coil of hemp shot
+over the deck of the vessel. The pirate reached for it, but at that
+moment the sampan went down and left him swirling in the water. A
+dorsal fin cut the surface close by, there was a little flurry, and the
+pirate disappeared.
+
+Peter Gross made his way through the bush toward Carver. The latter was
+watching the proa with an anxious frown.
+
+"They've got a steel jacket on her," he declared in answer to the
+resident's question. "So long as they don't show themselves we can't
+touch them. We couldn't go out to them in sampans if we had them; they'd
+sink us."
+
+"Concentrate your fire on the water-line," Peter Gross suggested. "The
+armor doesn't probably reach very low, and some of these proas are
+poorly built."
+
+"A good idea!" Carver bellowed the order.
+
+The fire was concentrated at the stern, where the ship rode highest.
+That those on board became instantly aware of the maneuver was evident
+from the fact that a pirate, hideously attired with a belt of human
+hands, leaned over the bow to slash at the hempen cable with his kris.
+He gave two cuts when he straightened spasmodically and tumbled headlong
+into the sea. He did not appear above the surface again.
+
+"_Een_," John Vander Esse, a member of the crew, murmured happily,
+refilling his magazine. "Now for _nummer twee_." (Number two.)
+
+But the kris had been whetted to a keen edge. A gust of wind filled the
+proa's cumbersome triangular sail and drove her forward. The weakened
+cable snapped. The ship lunged and half rolled into the trough of the
+waves; then the steersmen, sheltered in their box, gained control and
+swung it about.
+
+"Gif heem all you got," Anderson, a big Scandinavian and particularly
+fond of Rouse, yelled. The concentrated fire of the twenty-five rifles,
+emptied, refilled, and emptied as fast as human hands could perform
+these operations, centered on the stern of the ship. Even sturdy teak
+could not resist that battering. The proa had not gone a hundred yards
+before it was seen that the stern was settling. Suddenly it came about
+and headed for the shore.
+
+There was a shrill yell from Jahi's Dyaks. Carver shouted a hoarse order
+to Jahi, who dashed away with his hillmen to the point where the ship
+was about to ground. The rifle-fire kept on undiminished while Carver
+led his men in short dashes along the edge of the bush to the same spot.
+The proa was nearing the beach when a white flag was hoisted on her
+deck. Carver instantly gave the order to cease firing, but kept his men
+hidden. The proa lunged on. A hundred feet from the shore it struck on a
+shelf of coral. The sound of tearing planking was distinctly audible
+above the roar of the waves. The water about the ship seemed to be
+fairly alive with fins.
+
+"We will accept their surrender," Peter Gross said to Carver. "I shall
+tell them to send a boat ashore." He stepped forward.
+
+"Don't expose yourself, Mr. Gross," Carver cried anxiously. Peter Gross
+stepped into the shelter of a cocoanut-palm and shouted the Malay for
+"Ahoy."
+
+A Chinaman appeared at the bow. His dress and trappings showed that he
+was a _juragan_.
+
+"Lower a boat and come ashore. But leave your guns behind," Peter Gross
+ordered.
+
+The _juragan_ cried that there was no boat aboard. Peter Gross conferred
+with Jahi who had hastened toward them to find out what the conference
+meant. When the resident told him that there was to be no more killing,
+his disappointment was evident.
+
+"They have killed my people without mercy," he objected. "They will cut
+my brother's throat to-morrow and hang his skull in their lodges."
+
+It was necessary to use diplomacy to avoid mortally offending his ally,
+the resident saw.
+
+"It was not the white man's way to kill when the fight is over," he
+said. "Moreover, we will hold them as hostages for our son, whom Djath
+has blessed."
+
+Jahi nodded dubiously. "My brother's word is good," he said. "There is a
+creek near by. Maybe my boys find him sampan."
+
+"Go, my brother," Peter Gross directed. "Come back as soon as possible."
+
+Jahi vanished into the bush. A half-hour later Peter Gross made out a
+small sampan, paddled by two Dyaks, approaching from the south. That the
+Dyaks were none too confident was apparent from the anxious glances that
+they shot at the proa, which was already beginning to show signs of
+breaking up.
+
+Peter Gross shouted again to the _juragan_, and instructed him that
+every man leaving the proa must stand on the rail, in full sight of
+those on shore, and show that he was weaponless before descending into
+the sampan. The _juragan_ consented.
+
+It required five trips to the doomed ship before all on board were taken
+off. There were thirty-seven in all--eleven sailors and the rest
+off-scourings of the Java and Celebes seas, whose only vocation was
+cutting throats. They glared at their captors like tigers; it was more
+than evident that practically all of them except the _juragan_ fully
+expected to meet the same fate that they meted out to every one who fell
+into their hands, and were prepared to sell their lives as dearly as
+possible.
+
+"A nasty crew," Carver remarked to Peter Gross as the pirates were
+herded on the beach under the rifles of his company. "Every man's
+expecting to be handed the same dose as he's handed some poor devil. I
+wonder why they didn't sink with their ship?"
+
+Peter Gross did not stop to explain, although he knew the reason
+why--the Mohammedan's horror of having his corpse pass into the belly of
+a shark.
+
+"We've got to tie them up and make a chain-gang of them," Carver said
+thoughtfully. "I wouldn't dare go through the jungle with that crew any
+other way."
+
+Peter Gross was looking at Jahi, in earnest conversation with several of
+his tribesmen. He perceived that the hill chief had all he could do to
+restrain his people from falling on the pirates, long their oppressors.
+
+"I will speak to them," he announced quietly. He stepped forward.
+
+"Servants of Ah Sing," he shouted in an authoritative tone. All eyes
+were instantly focused on him.
+
+"Servants of Ah Sing," he repeated, "the fortunes of war have this day
+made you my captives. You must go with me to Bulungan. If you will not
+go, you shall die here."
+
+A simultaneous movement affected the pirates. They clustered more
+closely together, fiercely defiant, and stared with the fatalistic
+indifference of Oriental peoples into the barrels of the rifles aimed at
+them.
+
+"You've all heard of me," Peter Gross resumed. "You know that the voice
+of Peter Gross speaks truth, that lies do not come from his mouth." He
+glanced at a Chinaman on the outskirts of the crowd. "Speak, Wong Ling
+Lo, you sailed with me on the _Daisy Deane_, is it not so?"
+
+Wong Ling Lo was now the center of attention. Each of the pirates
+awaited his reply with breathless expectancy. Peter Gross's calm
+assurance, his candor and simplicity, were already stirring in them a
+hope that in other moments they would have deemed utterly fantastic,
+contrary to all nature--a hope that this white man might be different
+from other men, might possess that attribute so utterly incomprehensible
+to their dark minds--mercy.
+
+"Peter Gross, him no lie," was Wong Ling Lo's unemotional admission.
+
+"You have heard what Wong Ling Lo says," Peter Gross cried. "Now, listen
+to what I say. You shall go back with me to Bulungan; alive, if you are
+willing; dead, if you are not. At Bulungan each one of you shall have a
+fair trial. Every man who can prove that his hand has not taken life
+shall be sentenced to three years on the coffee-plantations for his
+robberies, then he shall be set free and provided with a farm of his own
+to till so that he may redeem himself. Every man who has taken human
+life in the service of Ah Sing shall die."
+
+He paused to see the effect of his announcement. The owlish faces turned
+toward him were wholly enigmatic, but the intensity of each man's gaze
+revealed to Peter Gross the measure of their interest.
+
+"I cannot take you along the trail without binding you," he said. "Your
+oaths are worthless; I must use the power I have over you. Therefore you
+will now remember the promise I have made you, and submit yourselves to
+be bound. _Juragan_, you are the first."
+
+As one of Carver's force came forward with cords salvaged from the proa,
+the _juragan_ met him, placed his hands behind his back, and suffered
+them to be tied together. The next man hesitated, then submitted also,
+casting anxious glances at his companions. The third submitted promptly.
+The fourth folded his hands across his chest.
+
+"I remain here," he announced.
+
+"Very well," Peter Gross said impassively. He forced several Chinamen
+who were near to move back. They gave ground sullenly. At Carver's
+orders a firing-squad of three men stood in front of the Chinaman, whose
+back was toward the bay.
+
+"Will you go with us?" Peter Gross asked again.
+
+The Chinaman's face was a ghostly gray, but very firm.
+
+"Allah wills I stay here," he replied. His lips curled with a calm
+contemptuousness at the white man's inability to rob him of the place in
+heaven that he believed his murders had made for him. With that smile on
+his lips he died.
+
+A sudden silence came upon the crowd. Even Jahi's Dyaks, scarcely
+restrained by their powerful chief before this, ceased their mutterings
+and looked with new respect on the big _orang blanda_ resident. There
+were no more refusals among the Chinese. On instructions from Peter
+Gross four of them were left unbound to carry the body of their dead
+comrade to Bulungan. "Alive or dead," he had said. So it would be all
+understood.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+"TO HALF OF MY KINGDOM--"
+
+
+Captain Carver selected a cigar from Peter Gross's humidor and reclined
+in the most comfortable chair in the room.
+
+"A beastly hot day," he announced, wiping the perspiration from his
+forehead. "Regular Manila weather."
+
+"The monsoon failed us again to-day," Peter Gross observed.
+
+Carver dropped the topic abruptly. "I dropped over," he announced, "to
+see if the _juragan_ talked any."
+
+Peter Gross glanced out of the window toward the jungle-crowned hills.
+The lines of his mouth were very firm.
+
+"He told me a great deal," he admitted.
+
+"About Paddy?" There was an anxious ring in Carver's voice.
+
+"About Paddy--and other things."
+
+"The lad's come to no harm?"
+
+"He is aboard Ah Sing's proa, the proa we saw standing out to sea when
+we reached the beach. He is safe--for the present at least. He will be
+useful to Ah Sing, the natives reverence him so highly."
+
+"Thank God!" Carver ejaculated in a relieved voice. "We'll get him
+back. It may take time, but we'll get him."
+
+Peter Gross made no reply. He was staring steadfastly at the hills
+again.
+
+"Odd he didn't take you, too," Carver remarked.
+
+"The _juragan_ told me that he intended to come back with a portion of
+his crew for me later," Peter Gross said. "They ran short of provisions,
+so they had to go back to the proas, and they took Paddy with them. Some
+one warned them you were on the march with Jahi, so they fled. Tsang
+Che, the _juragan_, says his crew was slow in taking on fresh water;
+that is how we were able to surprise him."
+
+"That explains it," Carver remarked. "I couldn't account for their
+leaving you behind."
+
+Peter Gross lapsed into silence again.
+
+"Did you get anything else from him, any real evidence?" Carver
+suggested presently.
+
+The resident roused himself with an effort.
+
+"A great deal. Even more than I like to believe."
+
+"He turned state's evidence?"
+
+"You might call it that."
+
+"You got enough to clear up this mess?"
+
+"No," Peter Gross replied slowly. "I would not say that. What he told me
+deals largely with past events, things that happened before I came here.
+It is the present with which we have to deal."
+
+"I'm a little curious," Carver confessed.
+
+Peter Gross passed his hand over his eyes and leaned back.
+
+"He told me what I have always believed. Of the confederation of pirates
+with Ah Sing at their head; of the agreements they have formed with
+those in authority; of where the ships have gone that have been reported
+missing from time to time and what became of their cargoes; of how my
+predecessor died. He made a very full and complete statement. I have it
+here, written in Dutch, and signed by him." Peter Gross tapped a drawer
+in his desk.
+
+"It compromises Van Slyck?"
+
+"He is a murderer."
+
+"Of de Jonge--your predecessor?"
+
+"It was his brain that planned."
+
+"Muller?"
+
+"A slaver and embezzler."
+
+"You're going to arrest them?" Carver scanned his superior's face
+eagerly.
+
+"Not yet," Peter Gross dissented quietly. "We have only the word of a
+pirate so far. And it covers many things that happened before we came
+here."
+
+"We're waiting too long," Carver asserted dubiously. "We've been lucky
+so far; but luck will turn."
+
+"We are getting the situation in hand better every day. They will strike
+soon, their patience is ebbing fast; and we will have the _Prins_ with
+us in a week."
+
+"The blow may fall before then."
+
+"We must be prepared. It would be folly for us to strike now. We have no
+proof except this confession, and Van Slyck has powerful friends at
+home."
+
+"That reminds me," Carver exclaimed. "Maybe these documents will
+interest you. They are the papers Jahi found on your jailers. They seem
+to be a set of accounts, but they're Dutch to me." He offered the papers
+to Peter Gross, who unfolded them and began to read.
+
+"Are they worth anything?" Carver asked presently, as the resident
+carefully filed them in the same drawer in which he had placed Tsang
+Che's statement.
+
+"They are Ah Sing's memoranda. They tell of the disposition of several
+cargoes of ships that have been reported lost recently. There are no
+names but symbols. It may prove valuable some day."
+
+"What are your plans?"
+
+"I don't know. I must talk with Koyala before I decide. She is coming
+this afternoon."
+
+Peter Gross glanced out of doors at that moment and his face brightened.
+"Here she comes now," he said.
+
+Carver rose. "I think I'll be going," he declared gruffly.
+
+"Stay, captain, by all means."
+
+Carver shook his head. He was frowning and he cast an anxious glance at
+the resident.
+
+"No; I don't trust her. I'd be in the way, anyway." He glanced swiftly
+at the resident to see the effect of his words. Peter Gross was looking
+down the lane along which Koyala was approaching. A necklace of flowers
+encircled her throat and bracelets of blossoms hung on her
+arms--gardenia, tuberose, hill daisies, and the scarlet bloom of the
+flame-of-the-forest tree. Her hat was of woven nipa palm-leaves,
+intricately fashioned together. Altogether she was a most alluring
+picture.
+
+When Peter Gross looked up Carver was gone. Koyala entered with the
+familiarity of an intimate friend.
+
+"What is this I hear?" Peter Gross asked with mock severity. "You have
+been saving me from my enemies again."
+
+Koyala's smile was neither assent nor denial.
+
+"This is getting to be a really serious situation for me," he chaffed.
+"I am finding myself more hopelessly in your debt every day."
+
+Koyala glanced at him swiftly, searchingly. His frankly ingenuous,
+almost boyish smile evoked a whimsical response from her.
+
+"What are you going to do when I present my claim?" she demanded.
+
+Peter Gross spread out his palms in mock dismay. "Go into bankruptcy,"
+he replied. "It's the only thing left for me to do."
+
+"My bill will stagger you," she warned.
+
+"You know the Persian's answer, 'All that I have to the half of my
+kingdom,'" he jested.
+
+"I might ask more," Koyala ventured daringly.
+
+Peter Gross's face sobered. Koyala saw that, for some reason, her reply
+did not please him. A strange light glowed momentarily in her eyes.
+Instantly controlling herself, she said in carefully modulated tones:
+
+"You sent for me, _mynheer_?"
+
+"I did," Peter Gross admitted. "I must ask another favor of you,
+Koyala." The mirth was gone from his voice also.
+
+"What is it?" she asked quietly.
+
+"You know whom we have lost," Peter Gross said, plunging directly into
+the subject. "Ah Sing carried him away. His uncle, the boy's only living
+relative, is an old sea captain under whom I served for some time and a
+very dear friend. I promised him I would care for the lad. I must bring
+the boy back. You alone can help me."
+
+The burning intensity of Koyala's eyes moved even Peter Gross, unskilled
+as he was in the art of reading a woman's heart through her eyes. He
+felt vaguely uncomfortable, vaguely felt a peril he could not see or
+understand.
+
+"What will be my reward if I bring him back to you?" Koyala asked. Her
+tone was almost flippant.
+
+"You shall have whatever lies in my power as resident to give," Peter
+Gross promised gravely.
+
+Koyala laughed. There was a strange, jarring note in her voice.
+
+"I accept your offer, Mynheer Resident," she said. "But you should not
+have added those two words, 'as resident.'"
+
+Rising like a startled pheasant, she glided out of the door and across
+the plain. Peter Gross stared after her until she had disappeared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+A WOMAN SCORNED
+
+
+It was Inchi who brought the news of Paddy's return. Three days after
+Koyala's departure the little Dyak lad burst breathlessly upon a
+colloquy between Peter Gross and Captain Carver and announced excitedly:
+
+"Him, Djath boy, him, _orang blanda_ Djath boy, him come."
+
+"What the devil is he driving at?" Carver growled. The circumlocution of
+the south-sea islander was a perennial mystery to him.
+
+"Paddy is coming," Peter Gross cried. "Now get your breath, Inchi, and
+tell us where he is."
+
+His scant vocabulary exhausted, Inchi broke into a torrent of Dyak. By
+requiring the lad to repeat several times, Peter Gross finally
+understood his message.
+
+"Paddy, Koyala, and some of Koyala's Dyaks are coming along the mountain
+trail," he announced. "They will be here in an hour. She sent a runner
+ahead to let us know, but the runner twisted an ankle. Inchi found him
+and got the message."
+
+There was a wild cheer as Paddy, dusty and matted with perspiration,
+several Dyaks, and Koyala emerged from the banyan-grove and crossed the
+plain. Discipline was forgotten as the entire command crowded around
+the lad.
+
+"I shot two Chinamans for you," Vander Esse announced. "An' now daat vas
+all unnecessary."
+
+"Ye can't keep a rid-head bottled up," Larry Malone, another member of
+the company, shouted exultingly.
+
+"Aye ban tank we joost get it nice quiet van you come back again,"
+Anderson remarked in mock melancholy. The others hooted him down.
+
+Koyala stood apart from the crowd with her Dyaks and looked on. Glancing
+upward, Peter Gross noticed her, noticed, too, the childishly wistful
+look upon her face. He instantly guessed the reason--she felt herself
+apart from these people of his, unable to share their intimacy. Remorse
+smote him. She, to whom all their success was due, and who now rendered
+this crowning service, deserved better treatment. He hastened toward
+her.
+
+"Koyala," he said, his voice vibrant with the gratitude he felt, "how
+can we repay you?"
+
+Koyala made a weary gesture of dissent.
+
+"Let us not speak of that now, _mynheer_," she said.
+
+"But come to my home," he said. "We must have luncheon together--you and
+Captain Carver and Paddy and I." With a quick afterthought he added: "I
+will invite Mynheer Muller also."
+
+The momentary gleam of pleasure that had lit Koyala's face at the
+invitation died at the mention of Muller's name.
+
+"I am sorry," she said, but there was no regret in her voice. "I must
+go back to my people, to Djath's temple and the priests. It is a long
+journey; I must start at once."
+
+"You cannot leave us now!" Peter Gross exclaimed in consternation.
+
+"For the present I must," she said resignedly. "Perhaps when the moon is
+once more in the full, I shall come back to see what you have done."
+
+"But we cannot do without you!"
+
+"Is a woman so necessary?" she asked, and smiled sadly.
+
+"You are necessary to Bulungan's peace," Peter Gross affirmed. "Without
+you we can have no peace."
+
+"If you need me, send one of my people," she said. "I will leave him
+here with you. He will know where to find me."
+
+"But that may be too late," Peter Gross objected. His tone became very
+grave. "The crisis is almost upon us," he declared. "Ah Sing will make
+the supreme test soon--how soon I cannot say--but I do not think he will
+let very many days pass by. He is not accustomed to being thwarted. I
+shall need you here at my right hand to advise me."
+
+Koyala looked at him searchingly. The earnestness of his plea, the
+troubled look in his straight-forward, gray eyes fixed so pleadingly
+upon her, seemed to impress her.
+
+"There is a little arbor in the banyan-grove yonder where we can talk
+undisturbed," she said in a voice of quiet authority. "Come with me."
+
+"We can use my office," Peter Gross offered, but Koyala shook her head.
+
+"I must be on my journey. I will see you in the grove."
+
+Peter Gross walked beside her. He found difficulty in keeping the pace
+she set; she glided along like a winged thing. Koyala led him directly
+to the clearing and reclined with a sigh of utter weariness in the shade
+of a stunted nipa palm.
+
+"It has been a long journey," she said with a wan smile. "I am very
+tired."
+
+"Forgive me," Peter Gross exclaimed in contrition. "I should not have
+let you go. You must come back with me to the residency and rest until
+to-morrow."
+
+"A half-hour's rest will be all I need," Koyala replied.
+
+"But this is no place for you," Peter Gross expostulated.
+
+"The jungle is my home," Koyala said with simple pride. "The Argus
+Pheasant nests in the thickets."
+
+"Surely not at night?"
+
+"What is there to harm me?" Koyala smiled wearily at his alarm.
+
+"But the wild beasts, the tigers, and the leopards, and the orang-utans
+in the hill districts, and the snakes?"
+
+"They are all my friends. When the tiger calls, I answer. If he is
+hungry, I keep away. I know all the sounds of the jungle; my
+grandfather, Chawatangi, taught them to me. I know the warning hiss of
+the snake as he glides through the grasses, I know the timid hoofbeat of
+the antelope, I know the stealthy rustle of the wild hogs. They and the
+jackals are the only animals I cannot trust."
+
+"But where do you sleep?"
+
+"If the night is dark and there is no moon, I cut a bundle of bamboo
+canes. I bind these with creepers to make a platform and hang it in a
+tree. Then I swing between heaven and earth as securely or more
+securely, than you do in your house, for I am safe from the malice of
+men. If it rains I make a shelter of palm-leaves on a bamboo frame.
+These things one learns quickly in the forest."
+
+"You wonderful woman!" Peter Gross breathed in admiration.
+
+Koyala smiled. She lay stretched out her full length on the ground.
+Peter Gross squatted beside her.
+
+"You haven't told me where you found Paddy?" he remarked after a pause.
+
+"Oh, that was easy," she said. "Ah Sing has a station a little way this
+side of the Sadong country--"
+
+Peter Gross nodded.
+
+"I knew that he would go there. So I followed. When I got there Ah Sing
+was loading his proa with stores. I learned that your boy was a prisoner
+in one of the houses of his people. I went to Ah Sing and begged his
+life. I told him he was sacred to Djath, that the Dyaks of Bulungan
+thought him very holy indeed. Ah Sing was very angry. He stormed about
+the loss of his proa and refused to listen to me. He said he would hold
+the boy as a hostage.
+
+"That night I went to the hut and found one of my people on guard. He
+let me in. I cut the cords that bound the boy, dyed his face brown and
+gave him a woman's dress. I told him to wait for me in the forest until
+he heard my cry. The guard thought it was me when he left."
+
+Her voice drooped pathetically.
+
+"They brought me to Ah Sing. He was very angry, he would have killed me,
+I think, if he had dared. He struck me--see, here is the mark." She drew
+back the sleeve of her kabaya and revealed a cut in the skin with blue
+bruises about it. Peter Gross became very white and his teeth closed
+together tightly.
+
+"That is all," she concluded.
+
+There was a long silence. Koyala covertly studied the resident's
+profile, so boyish, yet so masterfully stern, as he gazed into the
+forest depths. She could guess his thoughts, and she half-smiled.
+
+"When you left, I promised you that you should have a reward--anything
+that you might name and in my power as resident to give," Peter Gross
+said presently.
+
+"Let us not speak of that--yet," Koyala dissented. "Tell me, Mynheer
+Gross, do you love my country?"
+
+"It is a wonderfully beautiful country," Peter Gross replied
+enthusiastically, falling in with her mood. "A country of infinite
+possibilities. We can make it the garden spot of the world. Never have I
+seen such fertile soil as there is in the river bottom below us. All it
+needs is time and labor--and men with vision."
+
+Koyala rose to a sitting posture and leaned on one hand. With deft
+motion of the other she made an ineffectual effort to cover her
+nut-brown limbs, cuddled among the ferns and grasses, with the shortened
+kabaya. Very nymphlike she looked, a Diana of the jungle, and it was
+small wonder that Peter Gross, the indifferent to woman, gave her his
+serious attention while she glanced pensively down the forest aisles.
+
+"Men with vision!" she sighed presently. "That is what we have always
+needed. That is what we have always lacked. My unhappy people! Ignorant,
+and none to teach them, none to guide them into the better way. Leaders
+have come, have stayed a little while, and then they have gone again.
+Brooke helped us in Sarawak--now only his memory is left." A pause. "I
+suppose you will be going back to Java soon again, _mynheer_?"
+
+"Not until my work is completed," Peter Gross assured gravely.
+
+"But that will be soon. You will crush your enemies. You will organize
+the districts and lighten our burdens for a while. Then you will go. A
+new resident will come. Things will slip back into the old rut. Our
+young men are hot-headed, there will be feuds, wars, piracy. There are
+turns in the wheel, but no progress for us, _mynheer_. Borneo!" Her
+voice broke with a sob, and she stole a covert glance at him.
+
+"By heaven, I swear that will not happen, Koyala," Peter Gross asserted
+vehemently. "I shall not go away, I shall stay here. The governor owes
+me some reward, the least he can give me is to let me finish the work I
+have begun. I shall dedicate my life to Bulungan--we, Koyala, shall
+redeem her, we two."
+
+Koyala shook her head. Her big, sorrowful eyes gleamed on him for a
+moment through tears.
+
+"So you speak to-day when you are full of enthusiasm, _mynheer_. But
+when one or two years have passed, and you hear naught but the unending
+tales of tribal jealousies, and quarrels over buffaloes, and complaints
+about the tax, and falsehood upon falsehood, then your ambition will
+fade and you will seek a place to rest, far from Borneo."
+
+The gentle sadness of her tear-dimmed eyes, the melancholy cadences of
+her voice sighing tribulation like an October wind among the maples, and
+her eloquent beauty, set Peter Gross's pulses on fire.
+
+"Koyala," he cried, "do you think I could give up a cause like
+this--forget the work we have done together--to spend my days on a
+plantation in Java like a buffalo in his wallow?"
+
+"You would soon forget Borneo in Java, _mynheer_--and me."
+
+The sweet melancholy of her plaintive smile drove Peter Gross to
+madness.
+
+"Forget you? You, Koyala? My right hand, my savior, savior thrice over,
+to whom I owe every success I have had, without whom I would have failed
+utterly, died miserably in Wobanguli's hall? You wonderful woman! You
+lovely, adorable woman!"
+
+Snatching her hands in his, he stared at her with a fierce hunger that
+was half passion, half gratitude.
+
+A gleam of savage exultation flashed in Koyala's eyes. The resident was
+hers. The fierce, insatiate craving for this moment, that had filled her
+heart ever since she first saw Peter Gross until it tainted every drop
+of blood, now raced through her veins like vitriol. She lowered her lids
+lest he read her eyes, and bit her tongue to choke utterance. Still his
+grasp on her hands did not relax. At last she asked in a low voice, that
+sounded strange and harsh even to her:
+
+"Why do you hold me, _mynheer_?"
+
+The madness of the moment was still on Peter. He opened his lips to
+speak words that flowed to them without conscious thought, phrases as
+utterly foreign to his vocabulary as metaphysics to a Hottentot. Then
+reason resumed her throne. Breathing heavily, he released her.
+
+"Forgive me, Koyala," he said humbly.
+
+A chill of disappointment, like an arctic wave, submerged Koyala. She
+felt the sensation of having what was dearest in life suddenly snatched
+from her. Her stupefaction lasted but an instant. Then the fury that
+goads a woman scorned possessed her and lashed on the blood-hounds of
+vengeance.
+
+"Forgive you?" she spat venomously. "Forgive you for what? The words you
+did not say, just now, _orang blanda_, when you held these two hands?"
+
+Peter Gross had risen quickly and she also sprang to her feet. Her face,
+furious with rage, was lifted toward his, and her two clenched fists
+were held above her fluttering bosom. Passion made her almost
+inarticulate.
+
+"Forgive you for cozening me with sweet words of _our_ work, and _our_
+mission when you despised me for the blood of my mother that is in me?
+Forgive you for leading me around like a pet parrot to say your words to
+my people and delude them? Forgive you for the ignominy you have heaped
+upon me, the shame you have brought to me, the loss of friendships and
+the laughter of my enemies?"
+
+"Koyala--" Peter Gross attempted, but he might as well have tried to
+stop Niagara.
+
+"Are these the things you seek forgiveness for?" Koyala shrieked. "Liar!
+Seducer! _Orang blanda!_"
+
+She spat the word as though it were something vile. At that moment there
+was a rustling in the cane back of Peter Gross. Bewildered, contrite,
+striving to collect his scattered wits that he might calm the tempest of
+her wrath, he did not hear it. But Koyala did. There was a savage
+exultation in her voice as she cried:
+
+"To-morrow the last white will be swept from Bulungan. But you will stay
+here, _mynheer_--"
+
+Hearing the footsteps behind him, Peter Gross whirled on his heel. But
+he turned too late. A bag was thrust over his head. He tried to tear it
+away, but clinging arms, arms as strong as his, held it tightly about
+him. A heavy vapor ascended into his nostrils, a vapor warm with the
+perfume of burning sandalwood and aromatic unguents and spices. He felt
+a drowsiness come upon him, struggled to cast it off, and yielded. With
+a sigh like a tired child's he sagged into the waiting arms and was
+lowered to the ground.
+
+"Very good, Mynheer Muller," Koyala said. "Now, if you and Cho Seng will
+bind his legs I will call my Dyaks and have him carried to the house we
+have prepared for him."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+THE ATTACK ON THE FORT
+
+
+When Peter Gross failed to return by noon that day Captain Carver,
+becoming alarmed, began making inquiries. Hughes supplied the first
+clue.
+
+"I saw him go into the bush with the heathen woman while we was buzzin'
+Paddy," he informed his commander. "I ain't seen him since."
+
+A scouting party was instantly organized. It searched the banyan grove,
+but found nothing. One, of the members, an old plainsman, reported
+heel-marks on the trail, but as this was a common walk of the troops at
+the fort the discovery had no significance.
+
+"Where is Inchi?" Captain Carver inquired. Search also failed to reveal
+the Dyak lad. As this disquieting news was reported, Lieutenant Banning
+was announced.
+
+The lieutenant, a smooth-faced, clean-cut young officer who had had his
+commission only a few years, explained the object of his visit without
+indulging in preliminaries.
+
+"One of my Java boys tells me the report is current in Bulungan that we
+are to be attacked to-morrow," he announced. "A holy war has been
+preached, and all the sea Dyaks and Malays in the residency are now
+marching this way, he says. The pirate fleet is expected here to-night.
+I haven't seen or heard of Captain Van Slyck since he left for Padang."
+
+He was plainly worried, and Carver correctly construed his warning as an
+appeal for advice and assistance. The captain took from his wallet the
+commission that Peter Gross had given him some time before.
+
+"Since Captain Van Slyck is absent, I may as well inform you that I take
+command of the fort by order of the resident," he said, giving the
+document to Banning. The lieutenant scanned it quickly.
+
+"Very good, captain," he remarked with a relieved air. His tone plainly
+indicated that he was glad to place responsibility in the crisis upon an
+older and more experienced commander. "I suppose you will enter the fort
+with your men?"
+
+"We shall move our stores and all our effects at once," Carver declared.
+"Are your dispositions made?"
+
+"We are always ready, captain," was the lieutenant's reply.
+
+From the roof of the residency Carver studied Bulungan town through
+field-glasses. There was an unwonted activity in the village, he
+noticed. Scanning the streets, he saw the unusual number of armed men
+hurrying about and grouped at street corners and in the market-place. At
+the water-front several small proas were hastily putting out to sea.
+
+"It looks as if Banning was right," he muttered.
+
+By sundown Carver's irregulars were stationed at the fort. Courtesy
+denominated it a fort, but in reality it was little more than a stockade
+made permanent by small towers of crude masonry, filled between with
+logs set on end. The elevation, however, gave it a commanding advantage
+in such an attack as they might expect. Peter Gross had been careful to
+supply machine-guns, and these were placed where they would do the most
+efficient service. Putting the Javanese at work, Carver hastily threw up
+around the fort a series of barbed-wire entanglements and dug
+trench-shelters inside. These operations were watched by an
+ever-increasing mob of armed natives, who kept a respectful distance
+away, however. Banning suggested a sortie in force to intimidate the
+Dyaks.
+
+"It would be time wasted," Carver declared. "We don't have to be afraid
+of this mob. They won't show teeth until the he-bear comes. We'll
+confine ourselves to getting ready--every second is precious."
+
+A searchlight was one of Carver's contributions to the defenses. Double
+sentries were posted and the light played the country about all night,
+but there was no alarm. When dawn broke Carver and Banning, up with the
+sun, uttered an almost simultaneous exclamation. A fleet of nearly
+thirty proas, laden down with fighting men, lay in the harbor.
+
+"Ah Sing has arrived," Banning remarked. Absent-mindedly he mused: "I
+wonder if Captain Van Slyck is there?"
+
+Carver had by this time mastered just enough Dutch to catch the
+lieutenant's meaning.
+
+"What do you know about Captain Van Slyck's dealings with this gang?" he
+demanded, looking at the young man fixedly.
+
+"I can't say--that is--" Banning took refuge in an embarrassed silence.
+
+"Never mind," Carver answered curtly. "I don't want you to inform
+against a superior officer. But when we get back to Batavia you'll be
+called upon to testify to what you know."
+
+Banning made no reply.
+
+Carver was at breakfast when word was brought him that Mynheer Muller,
+the _controlleur_, was at the gate and desired to see him. He had left
+orders that none should be permitted to enter or leave without special
+permission from the officer of the day. The immediate thought that
+Muller was come to propose terms of surrender occurred to him, and he
+flushed darkly. He directed that the _controlleur_ be admitted.
+
+"_Goeden-morgen, mynheer kapitein_," Muller greeted as he entered. His
+face was very pale, but he seemed to carry himself with more dignity
+than customarily, Carver noticed.
+
+"State your mission, _mynheer_," Carver directed bluntly, transfixing
+the _controlleur_ with his stern gaze.
+
+"_Mynheer kapitein_, you must fight for your lives to-day," Muller said.
+"Ah Sing is here, there are three thousand Dyaks and Malays below." His
+voice quavered, but he pulled himself together quickly. "I see you are
+prepared. Therefore what I have told you is no news to you." He paused.
+
+"Proceed," Carver directed curtly.
+
+"_Mynheer kapitein_, I am here to fight and die with you," the
+_controlleur_ announced.
+
+A momentary flash of astonishment crossed Carver's face. Then his
+suspicions were redoubled.
+
+"I hadn't expected this," he said, without mincing words. "I thought you
+would be on the other side."
+
+Muller's face reddened, but he instantly recovered. "There was a time
+when I thought so, too, _kapitein_," he admitted candidly. "But I now
+see I was in the wrong. What has been done, I cannot undo. But I can die
+with you. There is no escape for you to-day, they are too many, and too
+well armed. I have lived a Celebes islander, a robber, and a friend of
+robbers. I can at least die a white man and a Hollander."
+
+Carver looked at him fixedly.
+
+"Where is the resident?" he demanded.
+
+"In a hut, in the jungle."
+
+"In Ah Sing's hands?"
+
+"He is Koyala's prisoner. Ah Sing does not know he is there."
+
+"Um!" Carver grunted. The exclamation hid a world of meaning. It took
+little thought on his part to vision what had occurred.
+
+"Why aren't you with Koyala?" he asked crisply.
+
+Muller looked away. "She does not want me," he said in a low voice.
+
+For the first time since coming to Bulungan, Carver felt a trace of
+sympathy for Muller. He, too, had been disappointed in love. His tone
+was a trifle less gruff as he asked: "Can you handle a gun?"
+
+"_Ja, mynheer._"
+
+"You understand you'll get a bullet through the head at the first sign
+of treachery?"
+
+Muller flushed darkly. "_Ja, mynheer_," he affirmed with quiet dignity.
+It was the flush that decided Carver.
+
+"Report to Lieutenant Banning," he said. "He'll give you a rifle."
+
+It was less than an hour later that the investment of the fort began.
+The Dyaks, scurrying through the banyan groves and bamboo thickets,
+enclosed it on the rear and landward sides. Ah Sing's pirates and the
+Malays crawled up the rise to attack it from the front. Two of Ah Sing's
+proas moved up the bay to shut off escape from the sea.
+
+An insolent demand from Ah Sing and Wobanguli that they surrender
+prefaced the hostilities.
+
+"Tell the Rajah and his Chinese cut-throat that we'll have the pleasure
+of hanging them," was Carver's reply.
+
+To meet the attack, Carver entrusted the defense of the rear and
+landward walls to the Dutch and Javanese under Banning, while he looked
+after the frontal attack, which he shrewdly guessed would be the most
+severe. Taking advantage of every bush and tree, and particularly the
+hedges that lined the lane leading down to Bulungan, the Malays and
+pirates got within six hundred yards of the fort. A desultory rifle-fire
+was opened. It increased rapidly, and soon a hail of bullets began
+sweeping over the enclosure.
+
+"They've got magazine-rifles," Carver muttered to himself. "Latest
+pattern, too. That's what comes of letting traders sell promiscuously to
+natives."
+
+The defenders made a vigorous reply. The magazine-rifles were used with
+telling effect. Banning had little difficulty keeping the Dyaks back,
+but the pirates and Malays were a different race of fighters, and
+gradually crept closer in, taking advantage of every bit of cover that
+the heavily grown country afforded.
+
+As new levies of natives arrived, the fire increased in intensity. There
+were at least a thousand rifles in the attacking force, Carver judged,
+and some of the pirates soon demonstrated that they were able marksmen.
+An old plainsman was the first casualty. He was sighting along his rifle
+at a daring Manchu who had advanced within three hundred yards of the
+enclosure when a bullet struck him in the forehead and passed through
+his skull. He fell where he stood.
+
+Shortly thereafter Gibson, an ex-sailor, uttered an exclamation, and
+clapped his right hand to his left shoulder.
+
+"Are ye hit?" Larry Malone asked.
+
+"They winged me, I guess," Gibson said.
+
+The Dutch medical officer hastened forward. "The bone's broken," he
+pronounced. "We'll have to amputate."
+
+"Then let me finish this fight first," Gibson retorted, picking up his
+rifle. The doctor was a soldier, too. He tied the useless arm in a
+sling, filled Gibson's magazine, and jogged away to other duties with a
+parting witticism about Americans who didn't know when to quit. There
+was plenty of work for him to do. Within the next half hour ten men were
+brought into the improvised hospital, and Carver, on the walls, was
+tugging his chin, wondering whether he would be able to hold the day
+out.
+
+The firing began to diminish. Scanning the underbrush to see what
+significance this might have, Carver saw heavy columns of natives
+forming. The first test was upon them. At his sharp command the reply
+fire from the fort ceased and every man filled his magazine.
+
+With a wild whoop the Malays and Chinese rose from the bush and raced
+toward the stockade. There was an answering yell from the other side as
+the Dyaks, spears and krisses waving, sprang from the jungle. On the
+walls, silence. The brown wave swept like an avalanche to within three
+hundred yards. The Javanese looked anxiously at their white leader,
+standing like a statue, watching the human tide roll toward him. Two
+hundred yards--a hundred and fifty yards. The Dutch riflemen began to
+fidget. A hundred yards. An uneasy murmur ran down the whole line. Fifty
+yards.
+
+Carver gave the signal. Banning instantly repeated it. A sheet of flame
+leaped from the walls as rifles and machine-guns poured their deadly
+torrents of lead into the advancing horde. The first line melted away
+like butter before a fire. Their wild yells of triumph changed to
+frantic shrieks of panic, the Dyaks broke and fled for the protecting
+cover of the jungle while the guns behind them decimated their ranks.
+The Malays and Chinese got within ten yards of the fort before they
+succumbed to the awful fusillade, and fled and crawled back to shelter.
+A mustached Manchu alone reached the gate. He waved his huge kris, but
+at that moment one of Carver's company emptied a rifle into his chest
+and he fell at the very base of the wall.
+
+The attack was begun, checked, and ended within four minutes. Over two
+hundred dead and wounded natives and Chinese lay scattered about the
+plain. The loss within the fort had been four killed and five wounded.
+Two of the dead were from Carver's command, John Vander Esse and a
+Californian. As he counted his casualties, Carver's lips tightened. His
+thoughts were remarkably similar to that of the great Epirot: "Another
+such victory and I am undone."
+
+Lieutenant Banning, mopping his brow, stepped forward to felicitate his
+commanding officer.
+
+"They'll leave us alone for to-day, anyway," he predicted.
+
+Carver stroked his chin in silence a moment.
+
+"I don't think Ah Sing's licked so soon," he replied.
+
+For the next three hours there was only desultory firing. The great body
+of natives seemed to have departed, leaving only a sufficient force
+behind to hold the defenders in check in case they attempted to leave
+the fort. Speculation on the next step of the natives was soon answered.
+Scanning the harbor with his glasses, Carver detected an unwonted
+activity on the deck of one of the proas. He watched it closely for a
+few moments, then he uttered an exclamation.
+
+"They're unloading artillery," he told Lieutenant Banning.
+
+The lieutenant's lips tightened.
+
+"We have nothing except these old guns," he replied.
+
+"They're junk," Carver observed succinctly. "These proas carry Krupps,
+I'm told."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"We'll see whether they can handle it first. If they make it too hot for
+us--well, we'll die fighting."
+
+The first shell broke over the fort an hour later and exploded in the
+jungle on the other side. Twenty or thirty shells were wasted in this
+way before the gunner secured the range. His next effort landed against
+one of the masonry towers on the side defended by the Dutch. When the
+smoke had cleared away the tower lay leveled. Nine dead and wounded men
+were scattered among the ruins. A yell rose from the natives, which the
+remaining Dutch promptly answered with a stinging volley.
+
+"Hold your fire," Carver directed Banning. "We'd better take to the
+trenches." These had been dug the day before and deepened during the
+past hour. Carver issued the necessary commands and the defenders,
+except ten pickets, concealed themselves in their earthen shelters.
+
+The gunnery of the Chinese artilleryman improved, and gaunt breaches
+were formed in the walls. One by one the towers crumbled. Each
+well-placed shell was signalized by cheers from the Dyaks and Malays.
+The shelling finally ceased abruptly. Carver and Banning surveyed the
+scene. A ruin of fallen stones and splintered logs was all that lay
+between them and the horde of over three thousand pirates and Malay and
+Dyak rebels. The natives were forming for a charge.
+
+Carver took the lieutenant's hand in his own firm grip.
+
+"This is probably the end," he said. "I'm glad to die fighting in such
+good company."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+A WOMAN'S HEART
+
+
+Lying on the bamboo floor of the jungle hut which Muller had spoken of,
+his hands and feet firmly bound, and a Dyak guard armed with spear and
+kris at the door, Peter Gross thought over the events of his
+administration as resident of Bulungan. His thoughts were not pleasant.
+Shame filled his heart and reddened his brow as he thought of how
+confidently he had assumed his mission, how firmly he had believed
+himself to be the chosen instrument of destiny to restore order in the
+distracted colony and punish those guilty of heinous crimes, and how
+arrogantly he had rejected the sage advice of his elders.
+
+He recollected old Sachsen's warning and his own impatient reply--the
+event that he deemed so preposterous at that time and old Sachsen had
+foreseen had actually come to pass. He had fallen victim to Koyala's
+wiles. And she had betrayed him. Bitterly he cursed his stupid folly,
+the folly that had led him to enter the jungle with her, the folly of
+that mad moment when temptation had assailed him where man is weakest.
+
+In his bitter self-excoriation he had no thought of condemnation for
+her. The fault was his, he vehemently assured himself, lashing himself
+with the scorpions of self-reproach. She was what nature and the sin of
+her father had made her, a child of two alien, unincorporable races, a
+daughter of the primitive, wild, untamed, uncontrolled, loving fiercely,
+hating fiercely, capable of supremest sacrifice, capable, too, of the
+most fiendish cruelty.
+
+He had taken this creature and used her for his own ends, he had praised
+her, petted her, treated her as an equal, companion, and helpmate. Then,
+when that moment of madness was upon them both, he had suddenly wounded
+her acutely sensitive, bitterly proud soul by drawing the bar sinister.
+How she must have suffered! He winced at the thought of the pain he had
+inflicted. She could not be blamed, no, the fault was his, he
+acknowledged. He should have considered that he was dealing with a
+creature of flesh and blood, a woman with youth, and beauty, and
+passion. If he, who so fondly dreamed that his heart was marble, could
+fall so quickly and so fatally, could he censure her?
+
+Carver, too, had warned him. Not once, but many times, almost daily. He
+had laughed at the warnings, later almost quarreled. What should he say
+if he ever saw Carver again? He groaned.
+
+There was a soft swish of skirts. Koyala stood before him. She gazed at
+him coldly. There was neither hate nor love in her eyes, only
+indifference. In her hand she held a dagger. Peter Gross returned her
+gaze without flinching.
+
+"You are my prisoner, _orang blanda_," she said. "Mine only. This hut
+is mine. We are alone here, in the jungle, except for one of my people."
+
+"You may do with me as you will, Koyala," Peter Gross replied weariedly.
+
+Koyala started, and looked at him keenly.
+
+"I have come to carry you away," she announced.
+
+Peter Gross looked at her in silence.
+
+"But first there are many things that we must talk about," she said.
+
+Peter Gross rose to a sitting posture. "I am listening," he announced.
+
+Koyala did not reply at once. She was gazing fixedly into his eyes,
+those frank, gray eyes that had so often looked clearly and honestly
+into hers as he enthusiastically spoke of their joint mission in
+Bulungan. A half-sob broke in her throat, but she restrained it
+fiercely.
+
+"Do you remember, _mynheer_, when we first met?" she asked.
+
+"It was at the mouth of the Abbas River, was it not? At Wolang's
+village?"
+
+"Why did you laugh at me then?" she exclaimed fiercely.
+
+Peter Gross looked at her in astonishment. "I laughed at you?" he
+exclaimed.
+
+"Yes, on the beach. When I told you you must go. You laughed. Do not
+deny it, you laughed!" The fierce intensity of her tone betrayed her
+feeling.
+
+Peter Gross shook his head while his gaze met hers frankly. "I do not
+recollect," he said. "I surely did not laugh at you--I do not know what
+it was--" A light broke upon him. "Ay, to be sure, I remember, now. It
+was a Dyak boy with a mountain goat. He was drinking milk from the
+teats. Don't you recall?"
+
+"You are trying to deceive me," Koyala cried angrily. "You laughed
+because--because--"
+
+"As God lives, it is the truth!"
+
+Koyala placed the point of her dagger over Peter Gross's heart.
+
+"_Orang blanda_," she said, "I have sworn to kill you if you lie to me
+in any single particular to-day. I did not see that whereof you speak.
+There was no boy, no goat. Quick now, the truth, if you would save your
+life."
+
+Peter Gross met her glance fearlessly.
+
+"I have told you why I laughed, Koyala," he replied. "I can tell you
+nothing different."
+
+The point of the dagger pricked the resident's skin.
+
+"Then you would rather die?"
+
+Peter Gross merely stared at her. Koyala drew a deep breath and drew
+back the blade.
+
+"First we shall talk of other things," she said.
+
+At that moment the rattle of rifle-fire reached Peter Gross's ears.
+
+"What is that?" he cried.
+
+Koyala laughed, a low laugh of exultation. "That, _mynheer_, is the
+children of Bulungan driving the white peccaries from Borneo."
+
+"Ah Sing has attacked?" Peter Gross could not help, in his excitement,
+letting a note of his dismay sound in his voice.
+
+"Ah Sing and his pirates," Koyala cried triumphantly. "Wobanguli and the
+warriors of Bulungan. Lkath and his Sadong Dyaks. The Malays from the
+coast towns. All Bulungan except the hill people. They are all there, as
+many as the sands of the seashore, and they have the _orang blanda_ from
+Holland, and the Javanese, and the loud-voiced _orang blanda_ that you
+brought with you, penned in Van Slyck's kampong. None will escape."
+
+"Thank God Carver's in the fort," Peter Gross ejaculated.
+
+"But they cannot escape," Koyala insisted fiercely.
+
+"We shall see," Peter Gross replied. Great as were the odds, he felt
+confident of Carver's ability to hold out a few days anyway. He had yet
+to learn of the artillery Ah Sing commanded.
+
+"Not one shall escape," Koyala reiterated, the tigerish light glowing in
+her eyes. "Ah Sing has pledged it to me, Wobanguli has pledged it to me,
+the last _orang blanda_ shall be driven from Bulungan." She clutched the
+hilt of her dagger fiercely--.
+
+Amazed at her vehemence, Peter Gross watched the shifting display of
+emotion on her face.
+
+"Koyala," he said, suddenly, "why do you hate us whites so?"
+
+He shrank before the fierce glance she cast at him.
+
+"Is there any need to ask?" she cried violently. "Did I not tell you the
+first day we met, when I told you I asked no favors of you, and would
+accept none? What have you and your race brought to my people and to me
+but misery, and more misery? You came with fair promises, how have you
+fulfilled them? In the _orang blanda_ way, falsehood upon falsehood,
+taking all, giving none. Why don't I kill you now, when I have you in my
+power, when I have only to drop my hand thus--" she flashed the dagger
+at Peter Gross's breast--"and I will be revenged? Why? Because I was a
+fool, white man, because I listened to your lies and believed when all
+my days I have sworn I would not. So I have let you live, unless--" She
+did not finish the thought, but stood in rigid attention, listening to
+the increasing volume of rifle-fire.
+
+"They are wiping it out in blood there," she said softly to herself,
+"the wrongs of Bulungan, what my unhappy country has suffered from the
+_orang blanda_."
+
+Peter Gross's head was bowed humbly.
+
+"I have wronged you," he said humbly. "But, before God, I did it in
+ignorance. I thought you understood--I thought you worked with me for
+Bulungan and Bulungan only, with no thought of self. So I worked. Yet
+somehow, my plans went wrong. The people did not trust me. I tried to
+relieve them of unjust taxes. They would not let me take the census. I
+tried to end raiding. There were always disorders and I could not find
+the guilty. I found a murderer for Lkath, among his own people, yet he
+drove me away. I cannot understand it."
+
+"Do you know why?" Koyala exclaimed exultingly. "Do you know why you
+failed? It was I--I--I, who worked against you. The _orang kayas_ sent
+their runners to me and said: 'Shall we give the _controlleur_ the count
+of our people?' and I said: 'No, Djath forbids.' To the Rajahs and
+Gustis I said: 'Let there be wars, we must keep the ancient valor of our
+people lest they become like the Javanese, a nation of slaves.' You
+almost tricked Lkath into taking the oath. But in the night I went to
+him and said: 'Shall the vulture rest in the eagle's nest?' and he drove
+you away."
+
+Peter Gross stared at her with eyes that saw not. The house of his faith
+was crumbling into ruins, yet he scarcely realized it himself, the
+revelation of her perfidy had come so suddenly. He groped blindly for
+salvage from the wreck, crying:
+
+"But you saved my life--three times!"
+
+She saw his suffering and smiled. So she had been made to suffer, not
+once, but a thousand times.
+
+"That was because I had sworn the revenge should be mine, not Ah Sing's
+or any one else's, _orang blanda_."
+
+Peter Gross lowered his face in the shadow. He did not care to have her
+see how great had been his disillusionment, how deep was his pain.
+
+"You may do with me as you will, _juffrouw_," he said.
+
+Koyala looked at him strangely a moment, then rose silently and left the
+hut. Peter Gross never knew the reason. It was because at that moment,
+when she revealed her Dyak treachery and uprooted his faith, he spoke to
+her as he would to a white woman--"_juffrouw_."
+
+"They are holding out yet," Peter Gross said to himself cheerfully some
+time later as the sound of scattered volleys was wafted over the hills.
+Presently he heard the dull boom of the first shell. His face paled.
+
+"That is artillery!" he exclaimed. "Can it be--?" He remembered the
+heavy guns on the proas and his face became whiter still. He began
+tugging at his bonds, but they were too firmly bound. His Dyak guard
+looked in and grinned, and he desisted. As time passed and the
+explosions continued uninterruptedly, his face became haggard and more
+haggard. It was because of his folly, he told himself, that men were
+dying there--brave Carver, so much abler and more foresighted than he,
+the ever-cheerful Paddy, all those he had brought with him, good men and
+true. He choked.
+
+Presently the shell-fire ceased. Peter Gross knew what it meant, in
+imagination he saw the columns of natives forming, column upon column,
+all that vast horde of savages and worse than savages let loose on a
+tiny square of whites.
+
+A figure stood in the doorway. It was Koyala. Cho Seng stood beside her.
+
+"The walls are down," she cried triumphantly. "There is only a handful
+of them left. The people of Bulungan are now forming for the charge. In
+a few minutes you will be the only white man left in Bulungan."
+
+"I and Captain Van Slyck," Peter Gross said scornfully.
+
+"He is dead," Koyala replied. "Ah Sing killed him. He was of no further
+use to us, why should he live?"
+
+Peter Gross's lips tightened grimly. The traitor, at least, had met the
+death he merited.
+
+Cho Seng edged nearer. Peter Gross noticed the dagger hilt protruding
+from his blouse.
+
+"Has my time come, too?" he asked calmly.
+
+The Chinaman leaped on him. "Ah Sing sends you this," he cried
+hoarsely--the dagger flashed.
+
+Quick as he was, quick as a tiger striking its prey, the Argus Pheasant
+was quicker. As the dagger descended, Koyala caught him by the wrist. He
+struck her with his free hand and tried to tear the blade away. Then his
+legs doubled under him, for Peter Gross, although his wrists were bound,
+could use his arms. Cho Seng fell on the point of the dagger, that
+buried itself to the hilt in the fleshy part of his breast. With a low
+groan he rolled over. His eyeballs rolled glassily upward, thick, choked
+sounds came from his throat--
+
+"Ah Sing--comeee--for Koyala--plenty quick--" With a sigh, he died.
+
+Peter Gross looked at the Argus Pheasant. She was gazing dully at a tiny
+scratch on her forearm, a scratch made by Cho Seng's dagger. The edges
+were purplish.
+
+"The dagger was poisoned," she murmured dully. Her glance met her
+prisoner's and she smiled wanly.
+
+"I go to _Sangjang_ with you, _mynheer_," she said.
+
+Peter Gross staggered to his knees and caught her arm. Before she
+comprehended what he intended to do he had his lips upon the cut and was
+sucking the blood. A scarlet tide flooded her face, then fled, leaving
+her cheeks with the pallor of death.
+
+"No, no," she cried, choking, and tried to tear her arm away. But in
+Peter Gross's firm grasp she was like a child. After a frantic, futile
+struggle she yielded. Her face was bloodless as a corpse and she stared
+glassily at the wall.
+
+Presently Peter Gross released her.
+
+"It was only a scratch," he said gently. "I think we have gotten rid of
+the poison."
+
+The sound of broken sobbing was his only answer.
+
+"Koyala," he exclaimed.
+
+With a low moan she ran out of the hut, leaving him alone with the dead
+body of the Chinaman, already bloated purple.
+
+Peter Gross listened again. Only the ominous silence from the hills, the
+silence that foretold the storm. He wondered where Koyala was and his
+heart became hot as he recollected Cho Seng's farewell message that Ah
+Sing was coming. Well, Ah Sing would find him, find him bound and
+helpless. The pirate chief would at last have his long-sought revenge.
+For some inexplicable reason he felt glad that Koyala was not near. The
+jungle was her best protection, he knew.
+
+A heavy explosion cut short his reveries. "They are cannonading again,"
+he exclaimed in surprise, but as another terrific crash sounded a moment
+later, his face became glorified. Wild cries of terror sounded over the
+hills, Dyak cries, mingled with the shrieking of shrapnel--
+
+"It's the _Prins_," Peter Gross exclaimed jubilantly. "Thank God,
+Captain Enckel came on time."
+
+He tugged at his own bonds in a frenzy of hope, exerting all his great
+strength to strain them sufficiently to permit him to slip one hand
+free. But they were too tightly bound. Presently a shadow fell over him.
+He looked up with a start, expecting to see the face of the Chinese
+arch-murderer, Ah Sing. Instead it was Koyala.
+
+"Let me help you," she said huskily. With a stroke of her dagger she cut
+the cord. Another stroke cut the bonds that tied his feet. He sprang up,
+a free man.
+
+"Hurry, Koyala," he cried, catching her by the arm. "Ah Sing may be here
+any minute."
+
+Koyala gently disengaged herself.
+
+"Ah Sing is in the jungle, far from here," she said.
+
+A silence fell upon them both. Her eyes, averted from his, sought the
+ground. He stood by, struggling for adequate expression.
+
+"Where are you going, Koyala?" he finally asked. She had made no
+movement to go.
+
+"Wherever you will, _mynheer_," she replied quietly. "I am now your
+prisoner."
+
+Peter Gross stared a moment in astonishment. "My prisoner?" he repeated.
+"Nonsense."
+
+"Your people have conquered, _mynheer_," she said. "Mine are in flight.
+Therefore I have come to surrender myself--to you."
+
+"I do not ask your surrender," Peter Gross, replied gravely, beginning
+to understand.
+
+"You do not ask it, _mynheer_, but some one must suffer for what has
+happened. Some one must pay the victor's price. I am responsible, I
+incited my people. So I offer myself--they are innocent and should not
+be made to suffer."
+
+"Ah Sing is responsible," Peter Gross said firmly. "And I."
+
+"You, _mynheer_?" The question came from Koyala's unwilling lips before
+she realized it.
+
+"Yes, I, _juffrouw_. It is best that we forget what has happened--I must
+begin my work over again." He closed his lips firmly, there were lines
+of pain in his face. "That is," he added heavily, "if his excellency
+will permit me to remain here after this fiasco."
+
+"You will stay here?" Koyala asked incredulously.
+
+"Yes. And you, _juffrouw_?"
+
+A moment's silence. "My place is with my people--if you do not want me
+as hostage, _mynheer_?"
+
+Peter Gross took a step forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. She
+trembled violently.
+
+"I have a better work for you, _juffrouw_," he said.
+
+Her eyes lifted slowly to meet his. There was mute interrogation in the
+glance.
+
+"To help me make Bulungan peaceful and prosperous," he said.
+
+Koyala shook herself free and walked toward the door. Peter Gross did
+not molest her. She stood on the threshold, one hesitating foot on the
+jungle path that led to the grove of big banyans. For some minutes she
+remained there. Then she slowly turned and reëntered the hut.
+
+"Mynheer Gross," she said, in a choking voice, "before I met you I
+believed that all the _orang blanda_ were vile. I hated the white blood
+that was in me, many times I yearned to take it from me, drop by drop,
+many times I stood on the edge of precipices undecided whether to let it
+nourish my body longer or no. Only one thing kept me from death, the
+thought that I might avenge the wrongs of my unhappy country and my
+unhappy mother."
+
+A stifled sob shook her. After a moment or two she resumed:
+
+"Then you came. I prayed the Hanu Token to send a young man, a young man
+who would desire me, after the manner of white men. When I saw you I
+knew you as the man of the Abbas, the man who had laughed, and I thought
+the Hanu Token had answered my prayer. I saved you from Wobanguli, I
+saved you from Ah Sing, that you might be mine, mine only to torture."
+Her voice broke again.
+
+"But you disappointed me. You were just, you were kind, righteous in
+all your dealings, considerate of me. You did not seek to take me in
+your arms, even when I came to you in your own dwelling. You did not
+taunt me with my mother like that pig, Van Slyck--"
+
+"He is dead," Peter Gross interrupted gently.
+
+"I have no sorrow for him. _Sangjang_ has waited over-long for him. Now
+you come to me, after all that has happened, and say: 'Koyala, will you
+forget and help me make Bulungan happy?' What shall I answer,
+_mynheer_?"
+
+She looked at him humbly, entreatingly. Peter Gross smiled, his
+familiar, confident, warming smile.
+
+"What your conscience dictates, Koyala."
+
+She breathed rapidly. At last came her answer, a low whisper. "If you
+wish it, I will help you, _mynheer_."
+
+Peter Gross reached out his hand and caught hers. "Then we're pards
+again," he cried.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+THE GOVERNOR'S PROMISE
+
+
+Peter Gross had just concluded an account of his administration in
+Bulungan to Governor-General Van Schouten at the latter's _paleis_ in
+Batavia. The governor-general was frowning.
+
+"So! _mynheer_," he exclaimed gruffly. "This is not a very happy report
+you have brought me."
+
+Peter Gross bent his head.
+
+"No census, not a cent of taxes paid, piracy, murders, my
+_controlleurs_--God knows where they are, the whole province in revolt.
+This is a nice kettle of fish."
+
+Sachsen glanced sympathetically at Peter Gross. The lad he loved so well
+sat with bowed head and clenched hands, lines of suffering marked his
+face, he had grown older, oh, so much older, during those few sorry
+months since he had so confidently declared his policies for the
+regeneration of the residency in this very room. The governor was
+speaking again.
+
+"You said you would find Mynheer de Jonge's murderer for me," Van
+Schouten rasped. "Have you done that?"
+
+"Yes, your excellency. It was Kapitein Van Slyck who planned the deed,
+and Cho Seng who committed the act, pricked him with a upas thorn while
+he slept, as I told your excellency. Here are my proofs. A statement
+made by Mynheer Muller to Captain Carver and Lieutenant Banning before
+he died, and a statement made by Koyala to me." He gave the governor the
+documents. The latter scanned them briefly and laid them aside.
+
+"How did Muller come to his death?" he demanded.
+
+"Like a true servant of the state, fighting in defense of the fort,"
+Peter Gross replied. "A splinter of a shell struck him in the body."
+
+"H-m!" the governor grunted. "I thought he was one of these traitors,
+too."
+
+"He expiated his crimes two weeks ago at Fort Wilhelmina, your
+excellency."
+
+"And Cho Seng?" the governor demanded. "Is he still alive?"
+
+"He fell on his own dagger." Peter Gross described the incident. "It was
+not the dagger thrust that killed him," he explained. "That made only a
+flesh wound. But the dagger point had been dipped in a cobra's venom."
+Softly he added: "He always feared that he would die from a snake's
+poison."
+
+"It is the judgment of God," Van Schouten pronounced solemnly. He looked
+at Peter Gross sharply.
+
+"Now this Koyala," he asked, "where is she?"
+
+"I do not know. In the hills, among her own people, I think. She will
+not trouble you again."
+
+The governor stared at his resident. Gradually the stern lines of his
+face relaxed and a quaintly humorous glint came into his eyes.
+
+"So, Mynheer Gross, the woman deceived you?" he asked sharply.
+
+Peter Gross made no reply. The governor's eyes twinkled. He suddenly
+brought down his fist on the table with a resounding bang.
+
+"_Donder en bliksem!_" he exclaimed, "I cannot find fault with you for
+that. The fault is mine. I should have known better. Why, when I was
+your age, a pretty woman could strip the very buttons from my dress
+coat--dammit, Mynheer Gross, you must have had a heart of ice to
+withstand her so long."
+
+He flourished a highly colored silk handkerchief and blew his nose
+lustily.
+
+"So you are forgiven on that count, Mynheer Gross. Now for the other. It
+appears that by your work you have created a much more favorable feeling
+toward us among many of the natives. The hill Dyaks did not rise against
+us as they have always done before, and some of the coast Dyak tribes
+were loyal. That buzzard, Lkath, stayed in his lair. Furthermore, you
+have solved the mysteries that have puzzled us for years and the
+criminals have been muzzled. Lastly, you were the honey that attracted
+all these piratical pests into Bulungan harbor where Kapitein Enckel was
+able to administer them a blow that will sweep those seas clear of this
+vermin for years to come, I believe. You have not done so badly after
+all, Mynheer Gross. Of course, you and your twenty-five men might have
+come to grief had not Sachsen, here, heard reports that caused me to
+send the _Prins Lodewyk_ post-haste to Bulungan, but we will overlook
+your too great confidence on the score of your youth." He chuckled. "Now
+as to the future."
+
+He paused and looked smilingly into the eyes that looked so gratefully
+into his.
+
+"What say you to two more years at Bulungan, _mynheer_, to straighten
+out affairs there, work out your policies, and finish what you have so
+ably begun?"
+
+"Your excellency is too good," Peter Gross murmured brokenly.
+
+"Good!" Van Schouten snapped. "_Donder en bliksem, mynheer_, it is only
+that I know a man when I see him. Can you go back next week?"
+
+"Yes, your excellency."
+
+"Then see that you do. And see to it that those devils send me some rice
+this year when the tax falls due or I will hang them all in the good,
+old-fashioned way."
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: The Big Fight]
+
+[Illustration: Capt. David Fallon M.C.]
+
+
+Few soldiers in this great war have been through adventures more
+thrilling, dramatic and perilous than fell to the lot of Captain David
+Fallon.
+
+He is a young Irishman whose first fighting was against the hillmen in
+their uprisings in India. He received the Indian Field Medal.
+
+The opening of the war found him physical instructor and bayonet drill
+master at the Royal Military College, Duntroon, New South Wales. He went
+through the entire, terrible Gallipoli campaign.
+
+He was in scores of fierce trench battles.
+
+He commanded a tank in an amazing war adventure.
+
+He has served as an aërial observer, spotted enemy positions and fought
+enemy aeroplanes.
+
+On the road to Thiepval with a shoulder smashed by shrapnel he remained
+in command of his men behind barricades made of the dead and for
+twenty-two hours held off the Germans until reinforcements arrived.
+
+On scout duty he frequently penetrated German trenches and gun positions
+in the night.
+
+A bomb duel with a German patrol when he was detected in their trenches
+brought him irreparable injury.
+
+He lay for three days in the mud of a shellhole in the enemy country
+with his right arm blasted, his upper jaw broken, his face and shoulders
+burned, but survived and managed to escape.
+
+He was awarded the Military Cross for daring and valuable service to his
+King.
+
+You will probably hear Captain Fallon lecture, but his book is something
+you will wish to keep. It is historical and every word rings true.
+
+
+
+
+THE WAR BOOK WITH A THRILL
+
+SPECIMEN CHAPTER
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+"RAZZLE DAZZLE"
+
+
+It was at Beaumont-Hamel, about September 16th, that I got my chance to
+command a "tank."
+
+The dear girl was named "Razzle Dazzle." She was very young, having been
+in service only three months, but rather portly. Matter of fact, she
+weighed something over thirty tons. And in no way could you call the
+dear little woman pretty. She was a pallid gray and mud-splashed when I
+got her and there was no grace in the bulging curves of her steel shape.
+Or of her conical top. Or her ponderous wheels.
+
+The fact is that she showed every aspect of being a bad, scrappy old
+dearie. The minute I saw her in her lovely ugliness I knew she would
+like trouble and lots of it. Her metabolism was a marvel. She carried a
+six-hundred-horse-power motor. And out of her gray steel hoods
+protruded eight guns. An infernal old girl, you can bet she was. All
+ready to make battle in large quantities.
+
+When I boarded "Razzle Dazzle" she was full of dents. She had rocked
+around among several trench charges. But the reason for my assignment to
+her was prosaic. Her captain had not been killed. He was just sick--some
+stomach complaint. I was drafted on an hour's notice to the job, this,
+because of long training in handling rapid-fire guns.
+
+It was all new to me, but highly interesting. My crew consisted of seven
+men--five of them well experienced. And a black cat. Although she was a
+lady-cat she had been named "Joffre" and I can't tell you why because I
+never received any explanation on this point myself. But "Joffre" was
+very friendly and insisted on sitting either on my knee or shoulder from
+the moment I sealed myself and my men in the tank. We had our outlook
+from several periscopes above the turret and from spy holes in the
+turret itself.
+
+The order had come to me about one in the morning, and it was nearly
+three when we started lumbering out toward the enemy trenches. We had
+about six hundred yards to cover. I knew little or nothing of her motor
+power or speed. My concern was with the efficiency of the guns. She
+pumped and swayed "across No Man's Land" at about four miles an hour.
+She groaned and tossed a great deal. And in fact, made such poor
+progress that my regiment, the Oxfords and Bucks, beat the old dearie to
+the enemy lines. Our men were among the barbed wire of the first line,
+fighting it, cutting it, knocking it down before the old "Razzle Dazzle"
+got into action.
+
+But she "carried on" just the same. And when she smote the barbed-wire
+obstacles, she murdered them. She crushed those barriers to what looked
+like messes of steel spaghetti.
+
+Instead of sinking into trenches as I feared she would, she crushed them
+and continued to move forward. Of course, we were letting go everything
+we had, and from my observation hole, I could see the Germans didn't
+like it.
+
+They had put up something of a stand against the infantry. But against
+the tank they were quick to make their farewells. It was a still black
+night, but under the star-shells we could see them scurrying out of our
+way.
+
+This was very sensible of them because we were certainly making a clean
+sweep of everything in sight and had the earth ahead throwing up
+chocolate showers of spray as if the ground we rode was an angry sea of
+mud.
+
+Every man in the tank was shouting and yelling with the excitement of
+the thing and we were tossed up against each other like loosened peas in
+a pod. Only Joffre remained perfectly cool. Somehow she maintained a
+firm seat on my swaying shoulder and as I glanced around to peer at her
+she was calmly licking a paw and then daintily wiped her face.
+
+Suddenly out of a very clever camouflage of tree branches and shrubbery
+a German machine-gun emplacement was revealed. The bullets stormed and
+rattled upon the tank. But they did themselves a bad turn by revealing
+their whereabouts, for we made straight for the camouflage and went
+over that battery of machine guns, crunching its concrete foundation as
+if it were chalk.
+
+[Illustration: "British blood is calling British blood"]
+
+Then we turned about and from our new position put the Germans under an
+enfilade fire that we kept up until every evidence was at hand that the
+Oxfords and Bucks and supporting battalions were holding the trenches.
+
+But this was only preliminary work cut out for the tank to do. I had
+special instructions and a main objective. This was a sugar refinery. It
+was a one-storied building of brick and wood with a tiled roof. It had
+been established as a sugar refinery by the Germans before the war and
+when this occasion arose blossomed as a fortress with a gun aimed out of
+every window.
+
+To allow it to remain standing in hostile hands would mean that the
+trenches we had won could be constantly battered. Its removal was most
+desirable. To send infantry against it would have involved huge losses
+in life. The tank was deemed the right weapon.
+
+It was.
+
+[Illustration: Cleaning Mills bombs]
+
+And largely because "Razzle Dazzle" took matters into her own hands. The
+truth is she ran away.
+
+We rocked and plowed out of the trenches and went swaying toward the
+refinery. I ordered the round-top sealed. And we beat the refinery to
+the attack with our guns. But they had seen us coming and every window
+facing our way developed a working gun. There were about sixteen such
+windows. They all blazed at us.
+
+My notion had been to circle the "sugar mill", with "Razzle Dazzle" and
+shoot it up from all sides. We were getting frightfully rapped by the
+enemy fire, but there was apparently nothing heavy enough to split the
+skin of the wild, old girl. Our own fire was effective. We knocked out
+all the windows and the red-tiled roof was sagging. As I say, my notion
+was to circle the "mill" and I gave orders accordingly. But the "Razzle
+Dazzle's" chauffeur looked at me in distress.
+
+"The steering gear's off, sir," said he.
+
+"Stop her then and we'll let them have it from here," I ordered.
+
+He made several frantic motions with the mechanism and said:
+
+"I can't stop her, either."
+
+And the "Razzle Dazzle" carried out her own idea of attack. She banged
+head-on into the "mill." She went right through a wide doorway, making
+splinters of the door, she knocked against concrete pillars, supports
+and walls, smashing everything in her way and bowled out of the other
+side just as the roof crashed in and apparently crushed and smothered
+all the artillery men beneath it.
+
+On the way through, the big, powerful old girl bucked and rocked and
+reared until we men and the black cat inside her were thrown again and
+again into a jumble, the cat scratching us like a devil in her frenzy of
+fear.
+
+Closed up in the tank as we were, we could hear the roar and crash of
+the falling "mill," and from my observation port-hole I could observe
+that it was most complete. The place had been reduced to a mere heap.
+Not a shot came out of it at us.
+
+But still the "Razzle Dazzle" was having her own way. Her motorist was
+signaling me that he had no control of her. This was cheerful
+intelligence because right ahead was a huge shell crater. She might
+slide into it and climb up the other side and out. I hoped so. But she
+didn't. She hit the bottom of the pit, tried to push her way up and out,
+fell back, panted, pushed up again, fell back and then just stuck at the
+bottom of the well, throbbing and moaning and maybe penitent for her
+recklessness.
+
+Penitence wasn't to do her any good. It wasn't five minutes later when
+the Germans had the range of her and began smashing us with big shells.
+I ordered my men to abandon her and led them in a rush out of the crater
+and into small shell holes until the storm of fire was past.
+
+When it was, "Razzle Dazzle" was a wreck. She was cracked, distorted and
+shapeless. But the runaway engine was still plainly to be heard
+throbbing. Finally a last big shell sailed into the doughty tank and
+there was a loud bang and a flare. Her oil reservoir shot up in an
+enormous blaze.
+
+"Razzle Dazzle" was no more. But she had accounted for the "refinery."
+And our infantry had done the rest. The German position was ours.
+
+I was all enthusiasm for fighting "tanks." But my superiors squelched
+it. For when I asked for command of a sister of "Razzle Dazzle" next
+day, a cold-eyed aide said to me:
+
+"One tank, worth ten thousand pounds, is as much as any bally young
+officer may expect to be given to destroy during his lifetime. Good
+afternoon."
+
+He never gave me a chance to explain that it was "Razzle Dazzle's" own
+fault, how she had taken things into her own willful control. But he did
+try to give me credit for what "Razzle Dazzle" had herself accomplished.
+He said the destruction of the "sugar mill" had been "fine work."
+
+I wonder what "Joffre" thought of it all. I don't remember seeing her
+when we fled from the "tank," except as something incredibly swift and
+black flashed past my eyes as we thrust up the lid. I sincerely hope she
+is alive and well "somewhere in France."
+
+     "THE BIG FIGHT" is over 300 pages long and is the most
+     interesting of war books. Some books are made to read and
+     forget; others to read and to keep. "THE BIG FIGHT" belongs to
+     the latter class.
+
+     Why not order a copy to-day?
+
+[Illustration: In the supports, waiting to advance]
+
+[Illustration: The Military Cross]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Argus Pheasant, by John Charles Beecham
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGUS PHEASANT ***
+
+***** This file should be named 37215-8.txt or 37215-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/2/1/37215/
+
+Produced by Katie Hernandez, Suzanne Shell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/37215-8.zip b/37215-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8a7b3e7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/37215-8.zip
diff --git a/37215-h.zip b/37215-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0450d8c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/37215-h.zip
diff --git a/37215-h/37215-h.htm b/37215-h/37215-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..07e6711
--- /dev/null
+++ b/37215-h/37215-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,12464 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd">
+<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ -->
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Argus Pheasant, by John Charles Beecham.
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+
+body {
+    margin-left: 10%;
+    margin-right: 10%;
+}
+
+    h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {
+    text-align: center; /* all headings centered */
+    clear: both;
+}
+
+p {
+    margin-top: .75em;
+    text-align: justify;
+    margin-bottom: .75em;
+}
+
+hr {
+    width: 33%;
+    margin-top: 2em;
+    margin-bottom: 2em;
+    margin-left: auto;
+    margin-right: auto;
+    clear: both;
+}
+
+table {
+    margin-left: auto;
+    margin-right: auto;
+}
+
+.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */
+    /*  visibility: hidden;  */
+    position: absolute;
+    left: 92%;
+    font-size: smaller;
+    text-align: right;
+}
+
+.blockquot{
+    margin-left: 5%;
+    margin-right: 10%;
+}
+
+.bb       {border-bottom: solid 2px;}
+
+.bl       {border-left: solid 2px;}
+
+.bt       {border-top: solid 2px;}
+
+.br       {border-right: solid 2px;}
+
+.bbox     {border: solid 2px;}
+
+.center   {text-align: center;}
+
+.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
+
+.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
+
+.caption  {font-weight: bold;}
+
+/* Images */
+.figcenter   {
+    margin: auto;
+    text-align: center;
+}
+
+.figleft {
+    float: left;
+    clear: left;
+    margin-left: 0;
+    margin-bottom: 1em;
+    margin-top: 1em;
+    margin-right: 1em;
+    padding: 0;
+    text-align: center;
+}
+
+.figright {
+    float: right;
+    clear: right;
+    margin-left: 1em;
+    margin-bottom:
+    1em;
+    margin-top: 1em;
+    margin-right: 0;
+    padding: 0;
+    text-align: center;
+}
+
+/* Poetry */
+.poem {
+    margin-left:10%;
+    margin-right:10%;
+    text-align: left;
+}
+
+.poem br {display: none;}
+
+.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;}
+
+.poem span.i0 {
+    display: block;
+    margin-left: 0em;
+    padding-left: 3em;
+    text-indent: -3em;
+}
+
+.poem span.i2 {
+    display: block;
+    margin-left: 2em;
+    padding-left: 3em;
+    text-indent: -3em;
+}
+
+.poem span.i4 {
+    display: block;
+    margin-left: 4em;
+    padding-left: 3em;
+    text-indent: -3em;
+}
+
+    </style>
+  </head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Argus Pheasant, by John Charles Beecham
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Argus Pheasant
+
+Author: John Charles Beecham
+
+Illustrator: George W. Gage
+
+Release Date: August 26, 2011 [EBook #37215]
+Last updated: May 2, 2012
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGUS PHEASANT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Katie Hernandez, Suzanne Shell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/cover.png" width="450" height="691" alt="Cover" title="" />
+<span class="caption">Cover</span>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<h1>THE ARGUS PHEASANT</h1>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/frontis.png" width="450" height="768" alt="The Chinaman&#39;s laborious progress through the cane had amused
+Pg ii" title="" /><span class="caption">The Chinaman&#39;s laborious progress through the cane had
+amused her. She knew why he stepped so carefully</span></div>
+
+
+<h1>THE ARGUS PHEASANT</h1>
+<br />
+<h3>BY</h3>
+<h2>JOHN CHARLES BEECHAM</h2>
+<br />
+<p class="center">Frontispiece by<br />
+GEORGE W. GAGE<br /></p>
+<br />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 175px;">
+<img src="images/tp.png" width="175" height="183" alt="" title="" />
+</div><br />
+<br />
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">New York</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">W. J. Watt &amp; Company</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">PUBLISHERS</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1918, by</span><br />
+W. J. WATT &amp; COMPANY<br />
+<br />
+PRESS OF<br />
+BRAUNWORTH &amp; CO.<br />
+BOOK MANUFACTURERS<br />
+BROOKLYN, N. Y.<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="CONTENTS">
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align="center">CHAPTER</td><td align="right">PAGE</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">I.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Omniscient Sachsen</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">II.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Ah Sing Counts His Nails</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">10</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">III.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Peter Gross is Named Resident</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">25</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">IV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Koyola's Prayer</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">35</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">V.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Sachsen's Warning</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">54</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">VI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Pirate League</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">73</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">VII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mynheer Muller Worries</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">82</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">VIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Koyala's Warning</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">97</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">IX.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Long Arm of Ah Sing</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">107</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">X.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Captain Carver Signs</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">119</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mynheer Muller's Dream</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">125</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Peter Gross's Reception</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">134</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Fever Antidote</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">144</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XIV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Koyala's Defiance</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">154</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Council</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">165</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XVI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Peter Gross's Pledge</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">173</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XVII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Poisoned Arrow</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">192</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XVIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Summons to Sadong</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">198</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XIX.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Koyala's Ultimatum</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">207</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XX.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Lkath's Conversion</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">216</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Captured by Pirates</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">226</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">In the Temple</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">238</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Ah Sing's Vengeance</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">245</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXIV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Rescue</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">252</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Fight on the Beach</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">259</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXVI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left">"<span class="smcap">To Half of My Kingdom</span>&mdash;"</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">268</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXVII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Woman Scorned</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">274</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXVIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Attack on the Fort</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">285</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXIX.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Woman's Heart</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">296</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXX.&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Governor's Promise</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">310</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2>THE ARGUS PHEASANT</h2>
+
+<p class="center">
+Ah, God, for a man with a heart, head, hand,<br />
+Like some of the simple great ones gone<br />
+Forever and ever by;<br />
+One still, strong man in a blatant land,<br />
+Whatever they call him&mdash;what care I?&mdash;<br />
+Aristocrat, democrat, autocrat&mdash;one<br />
+Who can rule and dare not lie!&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Tennyson.</i><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Omniscient Sachsen</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>It was very apparent that his Excellency Jonkheer
+Adriaan Adriaanszoon Van Schouten, governor-general
+of the Netherlands East Indies,
+was in a temper. His eyes sparked like an emery-wheel
+biting cold steel. His thin, sharp-ridged nose
+rose high and the nostrils quivered. His pale,
+almost bloodless lips were set in rigid lines over
+his finely chiseled, birdlike beak with its aggressive
+Vandyke beard. His hair bristled straight and
+stiff, like the neck-feathers of a ruffled cock, over
+the edge of his linen collar. It was this latter
+evidence of the governor's unpleasant humor that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>
+his military associate, General Gysbert Karel Vanden
+Bosch, observed with growing anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>The governor took a pinch of snuff with great
+deliberation and glared across the big table of his
+cabinet-room at the general. Vanden Bosch shrank
+visibly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, my dear <i>generaal</i>," he demanded, "you say
+we must let these sons of Jazebel burn down my
+residences, behead my residents, and feed my <i>controlleurs</i>
+to the crocodiles without interference from
+the military?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ach</i>, no, your excellency!" General Vanden
+Bosch expostulated hastily. "Not that!"</p>
+
+<p>"I fear I have not understood you, my dear general.
+What do you advise?"</p>
+
+<p>The icy sweetness of the choleric Van Schouten
+sent a cold shiver along the commander's spine.
+He wriggled nervously in the capacious armchair
+that he filled so snugly. Quite unconsciously he
+mumbled to himself the clause which the pious
+Javanese had added to their prayers since Van
+Schouten's coming to Batavia: "And from the
+madness of the <i>orang blanda</i> devil at the <i>paleis</i>,
+Allah deliver us."</p>
+
+<p>"Ha! <i>generaal</i>, what do you say?" the governor
+exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>Vanden Bosch coughed noisily and rallied his wits.</p>
+
+<p>"Ahem, your excellency; ah-hum! It is a problem,
+as your excellency knows. I could send Colonel
+Heyns and his regiment to Bulungan, if your excellency
+so desires. But&mdash;ahem&mdash;as your excel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>lency
+knows, all he will find is empty huts. Not a
+proa on the sea; not a Dyak in his field."</p>
+
+<p>"You might as well send that many wooden men!"
+Van Schouten snapped.</p>
+
+<p>The general winced. His portentously solemn
+features that for forty years had impressed the authorities
+at The Hague with his sagacity in military
+affairs became severely grave. Oracularly he suggested:</p>
+
+<p>"Would it not be wise, your excellency, to give
+Mynheer Muller, the <i>controlleur</i>, more time? His
+last report was very satisfactory. Very satisfactory,
+indeed!" He smacked his lips at the satisfactoriness
+thereof.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Donder en bliksem!</i>" the governor swore, crashing
+his lean fist on the table. "More time for what?
+The taxes have not been paid for two years. Not a
+kilo of rice has been grown on our plantations. Not
+a liter of dammargum has been shipped here. The
+cane is left to rot uncut. Fire has ravaged the
+cinchona-groves my predecessors set with such care.
+Every ship brings fresh reports of piracies, of tribal
+wars, and head-hunting. How much longer must
+we possess our souls in patience while these things
+go on?"</p>
+
+<p>The general shook his head with a brave show of
+regret.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ach!</i> your excellency," he replied sadly; "he
+promised so well."</p>
+
+<p>"Promises," the governor retorted, "do not pay
+taxes."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Vanden Bosch rubbed his purple nose in perplexity.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose it is the witch-woman again," he remarked,
+discouragedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Who else?" Van Schouten growled. "Always
+the witch-woman. That spawn of Satan, Koyala,
+is at the bottom of every uprising we have in
+Borneo."</p>
+
+<p>"That is what we get for letting half-breeds
+mingle with whites in our mission schools," Vanden
+Bosch observed bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>The governor scowled. "That folly will cost the
+state five hundred <i>gulden</i>," he remarked. "That is
+the price I have put on her head."</p>
+
+<p>The general pricked up his ears. "H-m, that
+should interest Mynheer Muller," he remarked.
+"There is nothing he likes so well as the feel of a
+guilder between his fingers."</p>
+
+<p>The governor snorted. "<i>Neen, generaal</i>," he negatived.
+"For once he has found a sweeter love than
+silver. The fool fairly grovels at Koyala's feet,
+Sachsen tells me."</p>
+
+<p>"So?" Vanden Bosch exclaimed with quickened
+interest. "They say she is very fair."</p>
+
+<p>"If I could get my hands on her once, the Argus
+Pheasant's pretty feathers would molt quickly,"
+Van Schouten snarled. His fingers closed like an
+eagle's talons.</p>
+
+<p>"Argus Pheasant, Bintang Burung, the Star Bird&mdash;'tis
+a sweet-sounding name the Malays have for
+her," the general remarked musingly. There was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>
+a sparkle in his eye&mdash;the old warrior had not lost
+his fondness for a pretty face. "If I was younger,"
+he sighed, "I might go to Bulungan myself."</p>
+
+<p>The governor grunted.</p>
+
+<p>"You are an old cock that has lost his tail-feathers,
+<i>generaal</i>," he growled. "This is a task for a young
+man."</p>
+
+<p>The general's chest swelled and his chin perked up
+jauntily.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not so old as you think, your excellency,"
+he retorted with a trace of asperity.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Neen, neen, generaal</i>," the governor negatived,
+"I cannot let you go&mdash;not for your own good name's
+sake. The gossips of Amsterdam and The Hague
+would have a rare scandal to prate about if it became
+whispered around that Gysbert Vanden Bosch was
+scouring the jungles of Bulungan for a witch-woman
+with a face and form like Helen of Troy's."</p>
+
+<p>The general flushed. His peccadillos had followed
+him to Java, and he did not like to be reminded of them.</p>
+
+<p>"The argus pheasant is too shy a bird to come
+within gunshot, your excellency," he replied somberly.
+"It must be trapped."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, and so must she," the governor assented.
+"That is how she got her name. But you are too
+seasoned for bait, my dear <i>generaal</i>." He chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>Vanden Bosch was too much impressed with his
+own importance to enjoy being chaffed. Ignoring
+the thrust, he observed dryly:</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency might try King Saul's plan."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ha!" the governor exclaimed with interest.
+"What is that?"</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten prided himself on his knowledge of
+the Scriptures, and the general could not repress a
+little smirk of triumph at catching him napping.</p>
+
+<p>"King Saul tied David's hands by giving him his
+daughter to wife," he explained. "In the same way,
+your excellency might clip the Argus Pheasant's
+wings by marrying her to one of our loyal servants.
+It might be managed most satisfactorily. A proper
+marriage would cause her to forget the brown blood
+that she hates so bitterly."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not her brown blood that she hates, it is
+her white blood," Van Schouten contradicted. "But
+who would be the man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why not Mynheer Muller, the <i>controlleur</i>!"
+Vanden Bosch asked. "From what your excellency
+says, he would not be unwilling. Then our troubles
+in Bulungan would be over."</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten scowled thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"It would be a good match," the general urged.
+"He is only common blood&mdash;a Marken herring-fisher's
+son by a Celebes woman. And she"&mdash;he shrugged
+his shoulders&mdash;"for all her pretty face and plump
+body she is Leveque, the French trader's daughter,
+by a Dyak woman."</p>
+
+<p>He licked his lips in relish of the plan.</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I cannot do it," he said. "I could send her
+to the coffee-plantations&mdash;that would be just punishment
+for her transgressions. But God keep me
+from sentencing any woman to marry."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But, your excellency," Vanden Bosch entreated.</p>
+
+<p>"It is ridiculous, <i>generaal</i>," the governor cut in
+autocratically. "The argus pheasant does not mate
+with the vulture."</p>
+
+<p>Vanden Bosch's face fell. "Then your excellency
+must appoint another resident," he said, in evident
+disappointment. "It will take a strong man to
+bring those Dyaks to time."</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten looked at him fixedly for several
+moments. A miserable sensation of having said too
+much crept over the general.</p>
+
+<p>"Ha!" Van Schouten exclaimed. "You say we
+must have a new resident. That has been my idea,
+too. What bush-fighter have you that can lead
+two hundred cut-throats like himself and harry these
+tigers out of their lairs till they crawl on their bellies
+to beg for peace?"</p>
+
+<p>Inwardly cursing himself for his folly in ceasing
+to advocate Muller, the general twiddled his thumbs
+and said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>generaal</i>?" Van Schouten rasped irascibly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ahem&mdash;you know what troops I have, your excellency.
+Mostly raw recruits, here scarce three
+months. There is not a man among them I would
+trust alone in the bush. After all, it might be wisest
+to give Mynheer Muller another chance." His
+cheeks puffed till they were purple.</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten's face flamed.</p>
+
+<p>"Enough! Enough!" he roared. "If the military
+cannot keep our house in order, Sachsen and
+I will find a man. That is all, <i>generaal</i>. <i>Goedendag!</i>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Vanden Bosch made a hasty and none too dignified
+exit, damning under his breath the administration
+that had transferred him from a highly
+ornamental post in Amsterdam to live with this
+pepper-pot. He was hardly out of the door before
+the governor shouted:</p>
+
+<p>"Sachsen! <i>Hola</i>, Sachsen!"</p>
+
+<p>The sound of the governor's voice had scarcely
+died in the marbled corridors when Sachsen, the
+omniscient, the indispensable secretary, bustled into
+the sanctum. His stooped shoulders were crooked
+in a perpetual obeisance, and his damp, gray hair
+was plastered thinly over his ruddy scalp; but the
+shrewd twinkle in his eyes and the hawklike cast of
+his nose and chin belied the air of humility he
+affected.</p>
+
+<p>"Sachsen," the governor demanded, the eagle
+gleaming in his lean, Cćsarian face, "where can I
+find a man that will bring peace to Bulungan?"</p>
+
+<p>The wrinkled features of the all-knowing Sachsen
+crinkled with a smile of inspiration.</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency," he murmured, bowing low,
+"there is Peter Gross, freeholder of Batavia."</p>
+
+<p>"Peter Gross, <i>Pieter</i> Gross," Van Schouten
+mused, his brow puckered with a thoughtful frown.
+"The name seems to have slipped my memory.
+What has Peter Gross, freeholder of Batavia, done
+to merit such an appointment at our hands, Sachsen?"</p>
+
+<p>The secretary bowed again, punctiliously.</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency perhaps remembers," he reminded,
+"that it was Peter Gross who rescued Lieu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>tenant
+Hendrik de Koren and twelve men from the
+pirates of Lombock."</p>
+
+<p>"Ha!" the governor exclaimed, his stern features
+relaxing a trifle. "Now, Sachsen, answer me truthfully,
+has this Peter Gross an eye for women?"</p>
+
+<p>The secretary bent low.</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency, the fairest flowers of Batavia
+are his to pick and choose. The good God has
+given him a brave heart, a comely face, and plenty
+of flesh to cover his bones. But his only mistress
+is the sea."</p>
+
+<p>"If I should send him to Bulungan, would that
+she-devil, Koyala, make the same fool of him that
+she has of Muller?" the governor demanded sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency, the angels above would fail
+sooner than he."</p>
+
+<p>The governor's fist crashed on the table with a
+resounding thwack.</p>
+
+<p>"Then he is the man we need!" he exclaimed.
+"Where shall I find this Peter Gross, Sachsen?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency, he is now serving as first mate
+of the Yankee barkentine, <i>Coryander</i>, anchored in
+this port. He was here at the <i>paleis</i> only a moment
+ago, inquiring for news of three of his crew who had
+exceeded their shore leave. I think he has gone
+to Ah Sing's <i>rumah makan</i>, in the Chinese campong."</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten sprang from his great chair of state
+like a cockerel fluttering from a roost. He licked his
+thin lips and curved them into a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Sachsen," he said, "except myself, you are the
+only man in Java that knows anything. My hat
+and coat, Sachsen, and my cane!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Ah Sing Counts his Nails</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Captain Threthaway, of the barkentine,
+<i>Coryander</i>, of Boston, should have heeded
+the warning he received from his first mate,
+Peter Gross, to keep away from the roadstead of
+Batavia. He had no particular business in that port.
+But an equatorial sun, hot enough to melt the marrow
+in a man's bones, made the <i>Coryander's</i> deck
+a blistering griddle; there was no ice on board, and
+the water in the casks tasted foul as bilge. So the
+captain let his longing for iced tea and the cool
+depths of a palm-grove get the better of his judgment.</p>
+
+<p>Passing Timor, Floris, and the other links in the
+Malayan chain, Captain Threthaway looked longingly
+at the deeply shaded depths of the mangrove
+jungles. The lofty tops of the cane swayed gently
+to a breeze scarcely perceptible on the <i>Coryander's</i>
+sizzling deck. When the barkentine rounded Cape
+Karawang, he saw a bediamonded rivulet leap sheer
+off a lofty cliff and lose itself in the liana below. It
+was the last straw; the captain felt he had to land
+and taste ice on his tongue again or die. Calling
+his first mate, he asked abruptly:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Can we victual at Batavia as cheaply as at Singapore,
+Mr. Gross?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross looked at the shore-line thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"One place is as cheap as the other, Mr. Threthaway;
+but if it's my opinion you want, I advise
+against stopping at Batavia."</p>
+
+<p>The captain frowned.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mr. Gross?" he asked sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Because we'd lose our crew, and Batavia's a bad
+place to pick up another one. That gang for'ard
+isn't to be trusted where there's liquor to be got.
+'Twouldn't be so bad to lose a few of them at Singapore&mdash;there's
+always English-speaking sailors there
+waiting for a ship to get home on; but Batavia's
+Dutch. We might have to lay around a week."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think there's the slightest danger of
+desertions," Captain Threthaway replied testily.
+"What possible reason could any of our crew have
+to leave?"</p>
+
+<p>"The pay is all right, and the grub is all right;
+there's no kicking on those lines," Peter Gross said,
+speaking guardedly. "But most of this crew are
+drinking men. They're used to their rations of
+grog regular. They've been without liquor since we
+left Frisco, except what they got at Melbourne, and
+that was precious little. Since the water fouled on
+us, they're ready for anything up to murder and
+mutiny. There'll be no holding them once we make
+port."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Threthaway flushed angrily. His thin,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
+ascetic jaw set with Puritan stubbornness as he
+retorted:</p>
+
+<p>"When I can't sail a ship without supplying liquor
+to the crew, I'll retire, Mr. Gross."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't misunderstand me, captain," Peter Gross
+replied, with quiet patience.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not disagreeing with your teetotaler principles.
+They improve a crew if you've got the right
+stock to work with. But when you take grog away
+from such dock-sweepings as Smith and Jacobson
+and that little Frenchman, Le Beouf, you take away
+the one thing on earth they're willing to work for.
+We had all we could do to hold them in hand at
+Melbourne, and after the contrary trades we've
+bucked the past week, and the heat, their tongues
+are hanging out for a drop of liquor."</p>
+
+<p>"Let them dare come back drunk," the captain
+snapped angrily. "I know what will cure them."</p>
+
+<p>"They won't come back," Peter Gross asserted
+calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then we'll go out and get them," Captain
+Threthaway said grimly.</p>
+
+<p>"They'll be where they can't be found," Peter
+Gross replied.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Threthaway snorted impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, captain!" Peter Gross exclaimed,
+facing his skipper squarely. "Batavia is my home
+when I'm not at sea. I know its ins and outs.
+Knowing the town, and knowing the crew we've got,
+I'm sure a stop there will be a mighty unpleasant
+experience all around. There's a Chinaman there,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>
+Ah Sing, a public-house proprietor and a crimp,
+that has runners to meet every boat. Once a man
+goes into his <i>rumah makan</i>, he's as good as lost until
+the next skipper comes along short-handed and puts
+up the price."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Threthaway smiled confidently.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor as the crew is, Mr. Gross, there's no member
+of it will prefer lodging in a Chinese crimp's
+public house ten thousand miles from home to his
+berth here."</p>
+
+<p>"They'll forget his color when they taste his hot
+rum," Peter Gross returned bruskly. "And once
+they drink it, they'll forget everything else. Ah
+Sing is the smoothest article that ever plaited a
+queue, and they don't make them any slicker than
+they do in China."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Threthaway's lips pinched together in
+irritation.</p>
+
+<p>"There are always the authorities," he remarked
+pettishly, to end the controversy.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross restrained a look of disgust with
+difficulty.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there are always the authorities," he conceded.
+"But in the Chinese campong they're about
+as much use as a landlubber aloft in a blow. The
+campong is a little republic in itself, and Ah Sing is
+the man that runs it. If the truth was known, I
+guess he's the boss Chinaman of the East Indies&mdash;pirate,
+trader, politician&mdash;anything he can make a
+guilder at. From his rum-shop warrens run into
+every section of Chinatown, and they're so well hid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>
+that the governor, though he's sharp as a weasel
+and by all odds the best man the Dutch ever had
+here, can't find them. It's the real port of missing
+men."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Threthaway looked shoreward, where
+dusky, breech-clouted natives were resting in the
+cool shade of the heavy-leafed mangroves. A bit
+of breeze stirred just then, bringing with it the rich
+spice-grove and jungle scents of the thickly wooded
+island. A fierce longing for the shore seized the
+captain. He squared his shoulders with decision.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll take the chance, Mr. Gross," he said. "This
+heat is killing me. You may figure on twenty-four
+hours in port."</p>
+
+<p>Twelve hours after the <i>Coryander</i> cast anchor in
+Batavia harbor, Smith, Jacobson, and Le Beouf
+were reported missing. When Captain Threthaway,
+for all his Boston upbringing, had exhausted a prolific
+vocabulary, he called his first mate.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Gross," he said, "the damned renegades
+are gone. Do you think you can find them?"</p>
+
+<p>Long experience in the vicissitudes of life, acquired
+in that best school of all, the forecastle, had
+taught Peter Gross the folly of saying, "I told you
+so." Therefore he merely replied:</p>
+
+<p>"I'll try, sir."</p>
+
+<p>So it befell that he sought news of the missing
+ones at the great white <i>stadhuis</i>, where the Heer
+Sachsen, always his friend, met him and conceived
+the inspiration for his prompt recommendation to
+the governor-general.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross ambled on toward Ah Sing's <i>rumah
+makan</i> without the slightest suspicion he was being
+followed. On his part, Governor-General Van
+Schouten was content to let his quarry walk on
+unconscious of observation while he measured the
+man.</p>
+
+<p>"God in Israel, what a man!" his excellency exclaimed
+admiringly, noting Peter Gross's broad
+shoulders and stalwart thighs. "If he packs as
+much brains inside his skull as he does meat on his
+bones, there are some busy days ahead for my
+Dyaks." He smacked his lips in happy anticipation.</p>
+
+<p>Ah Sing's grog-shop, with its colonnades and porticoes
+and fussy gables and fantastic cornices terminating
+in pigtail curlicues, was a squalid place
+for all the ornamentation cluttered on it. Peter Gross
+observed its rubbishy surroundings with ill-concealed
+disgust.</p>
+
+<p>"'Twould be a better Batavia if some one set fire
+to the place," he muttered to himself. "Yet the
+law would call it arson."</p>
+
+<p>Looking up, he saw Ah Sing seated in one of the
+porticoes, and quickly masked his face to a smile of
+cordial greeting, but not before the Chinaman had
+detected his ill humor.</p>
+
+<p>There was a touch of three continents in Ah Sing's
+appearance. He sat beside a table, in the American
+fashion; he smoked a long-stemmed hookah, after
+the Turkish fashion, and he wore his clothes after
+the Chinese fashion. The bland innocence of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>
+pudgy face and the seraphic mildness of his unblinking
+almond eyes that peeped through slits no wider
+than the streak of a charcoal-pencil were as the
+guilelessness of Mother Eve in the garden. Motionless
+as a Buddha idol he sat, except for occasional
+pulls at the hookah.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-morning, Ah Sing," Peter Gross remarked
+happily, as he mounted the colonnade.</p>
+
+<p>The tiny slits through which Ah Sing beheld the
+pageantry of a sun-baked world opened a trifle
+wider.</p>
+
+<p>"May Allah bless thee, Mr. Gross," he greeted
+impassively.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross pulled a chair away from one of the
+other tables and placed it across the board from Ah
+Sing. Then he succumbed to it with a sigh of gentle
+ease.</p>
+
+<p>"A hot day," he panted, and fanned himself as
+though he found the humidity unbearable.</p>
+
+<p>"Belly hot," Ah Sing gravely agreed in a guttural
+voice that sounded from unfathomable abysses.</p>
+
+<p>"A hot day for a man that's tasted no liquor for
+nigh three months," Peter Gross amended.</p>
+
+<p>"You makee long trip?" Ah Sing inquired politely.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's features molded themselves into an
+expression eloquently appreciative of his past miseries.</p>
+
+<p>"That's altogether how you take it, Ah Sing," he
+replied. "From Frisco to Melbourne to Batavia
+isn't such a thunderin' long ways, not to a man that's
+done the full circle three times. But when you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>
+make the voyage with a Methodist captain who
+doesn't believe in grog, it's the longest since Captain
+Cook's. Ah Sing, my throat's dryer than a sou'east
+monsoon. Hot toddy for two."</p>
+
+<p>Ah Sing clapped his hands and uttered a magic
+word or two in Chinese. A Cantonese waiter paddled
+swiftly outside, bearing a lacquered tray and
+two steaming glasses. One he placed before Ah
+Sing and the other before Peter Gross, who tossed a
+coin on the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Pledge your health, sir," Peter Gross remarked
+and reached across the board to clink glasses with
+his Chinese friend. Ah Sing lifted his glass to meet
+the sailor's and suddenly found it snaked out of his
+hands by a deft motion of Peter Gross's middle finger.
+Gross slid his own glass across the table toward
+Ah Sing.</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't mind," he remarked pleasantly.
+"Your waiter might have mistaken me for a plain
+A. B., and I've got to get back to my ship to-night."</p>
+
+<p>Ah Sing's bland and placid face remained expressionless
+as a carved god's. But he left the glass
+stand, untasted, beside him.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Coryander's</i> mate sipped his liquor and sank
+deeper into his chair. He studied with an air of
+affectionate interest the long lane of quaintly colonnaded
+buildings that edged the city within a city,
+the Chinese campong. Pigtailed Orientals, unmindful
+of the steaming heat, squirmed across the
+scenery. Ten thousand stenches were compounded
+into one, in which the flavor of garlic predominated.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
+Peter Gross breathed the heavy air with a smile of
+reminiscent pleasure and dropped another notch into
+the chair.</p>
+
+<p>"It feels good to be back ashore again for a spell,
+Ah Sing," he remarked. "A nice, cool spot like
+this, with nothing to do and some of your grog under
+the belt, skins a blistery deck any day. I don't
+wonder so many salts put up here."</p>
+
+<p>Back of the curtain of fat through which they
+peered, Ah Sing's oblique eyes quivered a trifle as
+they watched the sailor keenly.</p>
+
+<p>"By the way," Peter Gross observed, stretching
+his long legs out to the limit of their reach, "you
+haven't seen any of my men, have you? Smith,
+he's pock-marked and has a cut over his right eye;
+Jacobson, a tall Swede, and Le Beouf, a little Frenchman
+with a close-clipped black mustache and beard?"</p>
+
+<p>Ah Sing gravely cudgeled his memory.</p>
+
+<p>"None of your men," he assured, "was here."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's face fell.</p>
+
+<p>"That's too bad!" he exclaimed in evident disappointment.
+"I thought sure I'd find 'em here.
+You're sure you haven't overlooked them? That
+Frenchie might call for a hop; we picked him out
+of a hop-joint at Frisco."</p>
+
+<p>"None your men here," Ah Sing repeated gutturally.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross rumpled his tousled hair in perplexity.</p>
+
+<p>"We-el," he drawled unhappily, "if those chaps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
+don't get back on shipboard by nightfall I'll have
+to buy some men from you, Ah Sing. Have y' got
+three good hands that know one rope from another?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two men off schooner <i>Marianna</i>," Ah Sing
+replied in his same thick monotone. "One man,
+steamer <i>Callee-opie</i>. Good strong man. Work hard."</p>
+
+<p>"You stole 'em, I s'pose?" Peter Gross asked
+pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>Ah Sing's heavy jowls waggled in gentle negation.</p>
+
+<p>"No stealum man," he denied quietly. "Him
+belly sick. Come here, get well. Allie big, strong
+man."</p>
+
+<p>"How much a head?"</p>
+
+<p>"Twlenty dlolla."</p>
+
+<p>"F. O. B. the <i>Coryander</i> and no extra charges?"</p>
+
+<p>Ah Sing's inscrutable face screwed itself into a
+maze of unreadable wrinkles and lines.</p>
+
+<p>"Him eat heap," he announced. "Five dlolla
+more for board."</p>
+
+<p>"You go to blazes," Peter Gross replied cheerfully.
+"I'll look up a couple of men somewhere else or go
+short-handed if I have to."</p>
+
+<p>Ah Sing made no reply and his impassive face
+did not alter its expressionless fixity. Peter Gross
+lazily pulled himself up in his chair and extended his
+right hand across the table. A ring with a big
+bloodstone in the center, a bloodstone cunningly
+chiseled and marked, rested on the middle finger.</p>
+
+<p>"See that ring, Ah Sing?" he asked. "I got that
+down to Mauritius. What d'ye think it's worth?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Ah Sing's long, claw-like fingers groped avariciously
+toward the ring. His tiny, fat-encased
+eyes gleamed with cupidity.</p>
+
+<p>With a quick, cat-like movement, Peter Gross
+gripped one of the Chinaman's hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't pull," he cautioned quickly as Ah Sing
+tried to draw his hand away. "I was going to tell
+you that there's a drop of adder's poison inside the
+bloodstone that runs down a little hollow pin if
+you press the stone just so&mdash;" He moved to illustrate.</p>
+
+<p>"No! No!" Ah Sing shrieked pig-like squeals of
+terror.</p>
+
+<p>"Just send one of your boys for my salts, will
+you?" Peter Gross requested pleasantly. "I understand
+they got here yesterday morning and haven't
+been seen to leave. Talk English&mdash;no China talk,
+savvy?"</p>
+
+<p>A flash of malevolent fury broke Ah Sing's mask
+of impassivity. The rage his face expressed caused
+Peter Gross to grip his hand the harder and look
+quickly around for a possible danger from behind.
+They were alone. Peter Gross moved a finger
+toward the stone, and Ah Sing capitulated. At his
+shrill cry there was a hurried rustle from within.
+Peter Gross kept close grip on the Chinaman's
+hand until he heard the shuffling tramp of sailor
+feet. Smith, Jacobson and Le Beouf, blinking
+sleepily, were herded on the portico by two giant
+Thibetans.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross shoved the table and Ah Sing violently
+back and leaped to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll&mdash;desert&mdash;will you?" he exclaimed. Each
+word was punctuated by a swift punch on the chin
+of one of the unlucky sailors and an echoing thud
+on the floor. Smith, Jacobson, and Le Beouf lay
+neatly cross-piled on one of Ah Sing's broken chairs.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll pay for the chair," Peter Gross declared,
+jerking his men to their feet and shoving them down
+the steps.</p>
+
+<p>Ah Sing shrilled an order in Chinese. The
+Thibetan giants leaped for Peter Gross, who sprang
+out of their reach and put his back to the wall. In
+his right hand a gun flashed.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah Sing, I'll take you first," he shouted.</p>
+
+<p>The screen separating them from the adjoining
+portico was violently pushed aside.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah Sing!" exclaimed a sharp, authoritative voice.</p>
+
+<p>Ah Sing looked about, startled. The purpled
+fury his face expressed sickened to a mottled gray.
+Adriaan Adriaanszoon Van Schouten, governor-general
+of Java, leaning lightly on his cane, frowned
+sternly at the scene of disorder. At a cry from their
+master the two Thibetans backed away from Peter
+Gross, who lowered his weapon.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it thus you observe our laws, Ah Sing?" Van
+Schouten demanded coldly.</p>
+
+<p>Ah Sing licked his lips. "Light of the sun&mdash;" he
+began, but the governor interrupted shortly:</p>
+
+<p>"The magistrate will hear your explanations."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>
+His eagle eyes looked penetratingly upon Peter
+Gross, who looked steadfastly back.</p>
+
+<p>"Sailor, you threatened to poison this man,"
+the governor accused harshly, indicating Ah Sing.</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency, that was bluff," Peter Gross
+replied. "The ring is as harmless as your excellency's
+own."</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten's eyes twinkled.</p>
+
+<p>"What is your name, sailor, and your ship?" he
+demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"Peter Gross, your excellency, first mate of the
+barkentine <i>Coryander</i> of Boston, now lying in your
+excellency's harbor of Batavia."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah Sing," Van Schouten rasped sternly, "if
+these drunken louts are not aboard their ship by
+nightfall, you go to the coffee-fields."</p>
+
+<p>Ah Sing's gimlet eyes shrank to pin-points. His
+face was expressionless, but his whole body seemed
+to shake with suppressed emotion as he choked in
+guttural Dutch:</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency shall be obeyed." He salaamed
+to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten glared at Peter Gross.</p>
+
+<p>"Mynheer Gross, the good name of our fair city
+is very dear to us," he said sternly. "Scenes of
+violence like this do it much damage. I would have
+further discourse with you. Be at the <i>paleis</i>
+within the hour."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be there, your excellency," Peter Gross
+promised.</p>
+
+<p>The governor shifted his frown to Ah Sing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"As for you, Ah Sing, I have heard many evil
+reports of this place," he said. "Let me hear no
+more."</p>
+
+<p>While Ah Sing salaamed again, the governor
+strode pompously away, followed at a respectful
+distance by Peter Gross. It was not until they had
+disappeared beyond a curve in the road that Ah
+Sing let his face show his feelings. Then an expression
+of malignant fury before which even the
+two Thibetans quailed, crossed it.</p>
+
+<p>He uttered a harsh command to have the débris
+removed. The Thibetans jumped forward in trembling
+alacrity. Without giving them another glance
+he waddled into the building, into a little den screened
+off for his own use. From a patent steel safe of
+American make he took an ebony box, quaintly
+carved and colored in glorious pinks and yellows
+with a flower design. Opening this, he exposed a
+row of glass vials resting on beds of cotton. Each
+vial contained some nail parings.</p>
+
+<p>He took out the vials one by one, looked at their
+labels inscribed in Chinese characters, and placed
+them on an ivory tray. As he read each label a
+curious smile of satisfaction spread over his features.</p>
+
+<p>When he had removed the last vial he sat at his
+desk, dipped a pen into India ink, and wrote two
+more labels in similar Chinese characters. When
+the ink had dried he placed these on two empty
+vials taken from a receptacle on his desk. The
+vials were placed with the others in the ebony box
+and locked in the safe.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The inscriptions he read on the labels were the
+names of men who had died sudden and violent
+deaths in the East Indies while he had lived at
+Batavia. The labels he filled out carried the names
+of Adriaan Adriaanszoon Van Schouten and Peter
+Gross.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Peter Gross is Named Resident</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>"Sailor, the penalty for threatening the life
+of any citizen is penal servitude on the
+state's coffee-plantations."</p>
+
+<p>The governor's voice rang harshly, and he scowled
+across the big table in his cabinet-room at the
+<i>Coryander's</i> mate sitting opposite him. His hooked
+nose and sharp-pointed chin with its finely trimmed
+Van Dyke beard jutted forward rakishly.</p>
+
+<p>"I ask no other justice than your excellency's
+own sense of equity suggests," Peter Gross replied
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"H'mm!" the governor hummed. He looked at
+the <i>Coryander's</i> mate keenly for a few moments
+through half-closed lids. Suddenly he said:</p>
+
+<p>"And what if I should appoint you a resident,
+sailor?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's lips pressed together tightly, but
+otherwise he gave no sign of his profound astonishment
+at the governor's astounding proposal. Sinking
+deeper into his chair until his head sagged on his
+breast, he deliberated before replying.</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency is in earnest?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not jest on affairs of state, Mynheer Gross.
+What is your answer?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross paused. "Your excellency overwhelms
+me&mdash;" he began, but Van Schouten cut him
+short.</p>
+
+<p>"Enough! When I have work to do I choose the
+man who I think can do it. Then you accept?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency, to my deep regret I must most
+respectfully decline."</p>
+
+<p>A look of blank amazement spread over the governor's
+face. Then his eyes blazed ominously.</p>
+
+<p>"Decline! Why?" he roared.</p>
+
+<p>"For several reasons," Peter Gross replied with
+disarming mildness. "In the first place I am under
+contract with Captain Threthaway of the <i>Coryander</i>&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I will arrange that with your captain," the governor
+broke in.</p>
+
+<p>"In the second place I am neither a soldier nor a
+politician&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That is for me to consider," the governor retorted.</p>
+
+<p>"In the third place, I am a citizen of the United
+States and therefore not eligible to any civil appointment
+from the government of the Netherlands."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Donder en bliksem!</i>" the governor exclaimed. "I
+thought you were a freeholder here."</p>
+
+<p>"I am," Peter Gross admitted. "The land I
+won is at Riswyk. I expect to make it my home
+when I retire from the sea."</p>
+
+<p>"How long have you owned that land?"</p>
+
+<p>"For nearly seven years."</p>
+
+<p>The governor stroked his beard. "You talk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>
+Holland like a Hollander, Mynheer Gross," he observed.</p>
+
+<p>"My mother was of Dutch descent," Peter Gross
+explained. "I learned the language from her."</p>
+
+<p>"Good!" Van Schouten inclined his head with a
+curt nod of satisfaction. "Half Holland is all Holland.
+We can take steps to make you a citizen at
+once."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care to surrender my birthright." Peter
+Gross negatived quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"What!" Van Schouten shouted. "Not for a
+resident's post? And eight thousand guilders a
+year? And a land grant in Java that will make you
+rich for life if you make those hill tribes stick to their
+plantations? What say you to this, Mynheer Gross?"
+His lips curved with a smile of anticipation.</p>
+
+<p>"The offer is tempting and the honor great,"
+Peter Gross acknowledged quietly. "But I can
+not forget I was born an American."</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten leaned back in his chair with a look
+of astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"You refuse?" he asked incredulously.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry, your excellency!" Peter Gross's
+tone was unmistakably firm.</p>
+
+<p>"You refuse?" the governor repeated, still unbelieving.
+"Eight&mdash;thousand&mdash;guilders! And a
+land grant that will make you rich for life!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am an American, and American I shall stay."</p>
+
+<p>The governor's eyes sparkled with admiration.</p>
+
+<p>"By the beard of Orange!" he exclaimed, "it is
+no wonder you Yankees have sucked the best blood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>
+of the world into your country." He leaned forward
+confidentially.</p>
+
+<p>"Mynheer Gross, I cannot appoint you resident
+if you refuse to take the oath of allegiance to the
+queen. But I can make you special agent of the
+<i>gouverneur-generaal</i>. I can make you a resident in
+fact, if not in name, of a country larger than half the
+Netherlands, larger than many of your own American
+States. I can give you the rewards I have
+pledged you, a fixed salary and the choice of a thousand
+hectares of our fairest state lands in Java.
+What do you say?"</p>
+
+<p>He leaned forward belligerently. In that posture
+his long, coarse hair rose bristly above his neck,
+giving him something of the appearance of a gamecock
+with feathers ruffled. It was this peculiarity
+that first suggested the name he was universally
+known by throughout the Sundas, "De Kemphaan"
+(The Gamecock).</p>
+
+<p>"To what province would you appoint me?"
+Peter Gross asked slowly.</p>
+
+<p>The governor hesitated. With the air of a poker
+player forced to show his hand he confessed:</p>
+
+<p>"It is a difficult post, mynheer, and needs a
+strong man as resident. It is the residency of
+Bulungan, Borneo."</p>
+
+<p>There was the faintest flicker in Peter Gross's
+eyes. Van Schouten watched him narrowly. In
+the utter stillness that followed the governor could
+hear his watch tick.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross rose abruptly, leaped for the door,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>
+and threw it open. He looked straight into the
+serene, imperturbable face of Chi Wung Lo, autocrat
+of the governor's domestic establishment. Chi
+Wung bore a delicately lacquered tray of Oriental
+design on which were standing two long, thin, daintily
+cut glasses containing cooling limes that bubbled
+fragrantly. Without a word he swept grandly in
+and placed the glasses on the table, one before the
+governor, and the other before Peter Gross's vacant
+chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Ha!" Van Schouten exclaimed, smacking his
+lips. "Chi Wung, you peerless, priceless servant,
+how did you guess our needs?"</p>
+
+<p>With a bland bow and never a glance at Peter
+Gross, Chi Wung strutted out in Oriental dignity,
+carrying his empty tray. Peter Gross closed the
+door carefully, and walked slowly back.</p>
+
+<p>"I was about to say, your excellency," he murmured,
+"that Bulungan has not a happy reputation."</p>
+
+<p>"It needs a strong man to rule it," the governor
+acknowledged, running his glance across Peter
+Gross's broad shoulders in subtle compliment.</p>
+
+<p>"Those who have held the post of resident there
+found early graves."</p>
+
+<p>"You are young, vigorous. You have lived here
+long enough to know how to escape the fevers."</p>
+
+<p>"There are worse enemies in Bulungan than the
+fevers," Peter Gross replied. "It is not for nothing
+that Bulungan is known as the graveyard of Borneo."</p>
+
+<p>The governor glanced at Peter Gross's strong face
+and stalwart form regretfully.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Your refusal is final?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"On the contrary, if your excellency will meet
+one condition, I accept," Peter Gross replied.</p>
+
+<p>The governor put his glass down sharply and
+stared at the sailor.</p>
+
+<p>"You accept this post?" he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"Upon one condition, yes!"</p>
+
+<p>"What is that condition?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I be allowed a free hand."</p>
+
+<p>"H'mm!" Van Schouten drew a deep breath
+and leaned back in his chair. The sharp, Julian
+cast of countenance was never more pronounced,
+and the eagle eyes gleamed inquiringly, calculatingly.
+Peter Gross looked steadily back. The minutes
+passed and neither spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you want to go there?" the governor
+exclaimed suddenly. He leaned forward in his chair
+till his eyes burned across a narrow two feet into
+Peter Gross's own.</p>
+
+<p>The strong, firm line of Peter Gross's lips tightened.
+He rested one elbow on the table and drew nearer
+the governor. His voice was little more than a
+murmur as he said:</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency, let me tell you the story of
+Bulungan."</p>
+
+<p>The governor's face showed surprise. "Proceed,"
+he directed.</p>
+
+<p>"Six years ago, when your excellency was appointed
+governor-general of the Netherlands East
+Indies," Peter Gross began, "Bulungan was a No
+Man's land, although nominally under the Dutch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>
+flag. The pirates that infested the Celebes sea and
+the straits of Macassar found ports of refuge in its
+jungle-banked rivers and marsh mazes where no
+gun-boat could find them. The English told your
+government that if it did not stamp out piracy and
+subjugate the Dyaks, it would. That meant loss
+of the province to the Dutch crown. Accordingly
+you sent General Van Heemkerken there with eight
+hundred men who marched from the lowlands to the
+highlands and back again, burning every village
+they found, but meeting no Dyaks except old men
+and women too helpless to move. General Van
+Heemkerken reported to you that he had pacified
+the country. On his report you sent Mynheer Van
+Scheltema there as resident, and Cupido as <i>controlleur</i>.
+Within six months Van Scheltema was
+bitten by an adder placed in his bedroom and Cupido
+was assassinated by a hill Dyak, who threw him out
+of a dugout into a river swarming with crocodiles.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Lieve hemel</i>, no!" Van Schouten cried. "Van
+Scheltema and Cupido died of the fevers."</p>
+
+<p>"So it was reported to your excellency," Peter
+Gross replied gravely. "I tell you the facts."</p>
+
+<p>The governor's thin, spiked jaw shot out like a
+vicious thorn and his teeth clicked.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on," he directed sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"For a year there was neither resident nor <i>controlleur</i>
+at Bulungan. Then the pirates became so
+bold that you again took steps to repress them. The
+stockade at the village of Bulungan was enlarged
+and the garrison was increased to fifty men. Lieu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>tenant
+Van Slyck, the commandant, was promoted
+to captain. A new resident was appointed, Mynheer
+de Jonge, a very dear friend of your excellency.
+He was an old man, estimable and honest, but ill-fitted
+for such a post, a failure in business, and a
+failure as a resident. Time after time your excellency
+wrote him concerning piracies, hillmen raids,
+and head-hunting committed in his residency or the
+adjoining seas. Each time he replied that your
+excellency must be mistaken, that the pirates and
+head-hunters came from other districts."</p>
+
+<p>The governor's eyes popped in amazement.
+"How do you know this?" he exclaimed, but Peter
+Gross ignored the question.</p>
+
+<p>"Finally about two years ago Mynheer de Jonge,
+through an accident, learned that he had been deceived
+by those he had trusted, had a right to trust.
+A remark made by a drunken native opened his
+eyes. One night he called out Captain Van Slyck
+and the latter's commando and made a flying raid.
+He all but surprised a band of pirates looting a captured
+schooner and might have taken them had they
+not received a warning of his coming. That raid
+made him a marked man. Within two weeks he
+was poisoned by being pricked as he slept with a
+thorn dipped in the juice of the deadly upas tree."</p>
+
+<p>"He was a suicide!" the governor exclaimed, his
+face ashen. "They brought me a note in his own
+handwriting."</p>
+
+<p>"In which it was stated that he killed himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>
+because he felt he had lost your excellency's confidence?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know that, too?" Van Schouten whispered
+huskily.</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency has suffered remorse without
+cause," Peter Gross declared quietly. "The note is
+a forgery."</p>
+
+<p>The governor's hands gripped the edge of the table.</p>
+
+<p>"You can prove that?" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"For the present your excellency must be satisfied
+with my word. As resident of Bulungan I hope
+to secure proofs that will satisfy a court of justice."</p>
+
+<p>The governor gazed at Peter Gross intently. A
+conflict of emotions, amazement, unbelief, and hope
+were expressed on his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Why should I believe you?" he demanded
+fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's face hardened. The sternness of
+the magistrate was on his brow as he replied:</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency remembers the schooner <i>Tetrina</i>,
+attacked by Chinese and Dyak pirates off the coast
+of Celebes three years ago? All her crew were
+butchered except two left on the deck that night for
+dead. I was one of the two, your excellency. My
+dead comrades have left me a big debt to pay. That
+is why I will go to Bulungan."</p>
+
+<p>The governor rose. Decision was written on his
+brow.</p>
+
+<p>"Meet us here to-night, Mynheer Gross," he said.
+"There is much to discuss with Mynheer Sachsen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
+before you leave. God grant you may be the instrument
+of His eternal justice." Peter Gross raised a
+hand of warning.</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes the very walls have ears, your excellency,"
+he cautioned. "If I am to be resident of
+Bulungan no word of the appointment must leak
+out until I arrive there."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Koyala's Prayer</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>It was a blistering hot day in Bulungan. The
+heavens were molten incandescence. The
+muddy river that bisected the town wallowed
+through its estuary, a steaming tea-kettle. The
+black muck-fields baked and flaked under the torrid
+heat. The glassy surface of the bay, lying within
+the protecting crook of a curling tail of coral reef,
+quivered under the impact of the sun's rays like some
+sentient thing.</p>
+
+<p>In the village that nestled where fresh and salt
+water met, the streets were deserted, almost lifeless.
+Gaunt pariah dogs, driven by the acid-sharp pangs
+of a never-satiated hunger, sniffed among the shadows
+of the bamboo and palmleaf huts, their backs
+arched and their tails slinking between their legs.
+Too weak to grab their share of the spoil in the
+hurly-burly, they scavenged in these hours of universal
+inanity. The doors of the huts were tightly
+closed&mdash;barricaded against the heat. The merchant
+in his dingy shop, the fisherman in his house
+on stilts, and the fashioner of metals in his thatched
+cottage in the outskirts slept under their mats.
+Apoplexy was the swift and sure fate of those who
+dared the awful torridity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Dawn had foretold the heat. The sun shot above
+the purple and orange waters of the bay like a conflagration.
+The miasmal vapors that clustered
+thickly about the flats by night gathered their linen
+and fled like the hunted. They were scurrying upstream
+when Bogoru, the fisherman, walked out on
+his sampan landing. He looked at the unruffled surface
+of the bay, and then looked upward quickly at
+the lane of tall kenari trees between the stockade
+and government buildings on an elevation a short
+distance back of the town. The spindly tops of the
+trees pointed heavenward with the rigidity of church
+spires.</p>
+
+<p>"There will be no chaetodon sold at the <i>visschersmarkt</i>
+(fishmart) to-day," he observed. "Kismet!"</p>
+
+<p>With a patient shrug of his shoulders he went
+back to his hut and made sure there was a plentiful
+supply of sirih and cooling limes on hand.</p>
+
+<p>In the fruit-market Tagotu, the fruiterer, set out
+a tempting display of mangosteen, durian, dookoo,
+and rambootan, pineapples, and pomegranates, jars
+of agar-agar, bowls of rice, freshly cooked, and
+pitchers of milk.</p>
+
+<p>The square was damp from the heavy night dew
+when he set out the first basket, it was dry as a
+fresh-baked brick when he put out the last. The
+heavy dust began to flood inward. Tagotu noticed
+with dismay how thin the crowd was that straggled
+about the market-place. Chepang, his neighbor,
+came out of his stall and observed:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The monsoon has failed again. Bunungan will
+stay in his huts to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"It is the will of Allah," Tagotu replied patiently.
+Putting aside his offerings, he lowered the shades of
+his shop and composed himself for a siesta.</p>
+
+<p>On the hill above the town, where the rude fort
+and the government buildings gravely faced the sea,
+the heat also made itself felt. The green blinds of
+the milk-white residency building, that was patterned
+as closely as tropical conditions would permit
+after the quaint architecture of rural Overysel, were
+tightly closed. The little cluster of residences
+around it, the <i>controlleur's</i> house and the homes of
+Marinus Blauwpot and Wang Fu, the leading merchants
+of the place, were similarly barricaded. For
+"Amsterdam," the fashionable residential suburb
+of Bulungan village, was fighting the same enemy
+as "Rotterdam," the town below, an enemy more
+terrible than Dyak blow-pipes and Dyak poisoned
+arrows, the Bornean sun.</p>
+
+<p>Like Bogoru, the fisherman, and Tagotu, the fruit-vender,
+Cho Seng, Mynheer Muller's valet and cook,
+had seen the threat the sunrise brought. The sun's
+copper disc was dyeing the purple and blue waters
+of the bay with vermilion and magentas when he
+pad-padded out on the veranda of the <i>controlleur's</i>
+house. He was clad in the meticulously neat
+brown jeans that he wore at all times and occasions
+except funeral festivals, and in wicker sandals.
+With a single sweep of his eyes he took in the kenari<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>-tree-lined
+land that ran to the gate of the stockade
+where a sleepy sentinel, hunched against a pert
+brass cannon, nodded his head drowsily. The road
+was tenantless. He shot another glance down the
+winding pathway that led by the houses of Marinus
+Blauwpot and Wang Fu to the town below. That
+also was unoccupied. Stepping off the veranda, he
+crossed over to an unshaded spot directly in front
+of the house and looked intently seaward to where a
+junk lay at anchor. The brown jeans against the
+milk-white paint of the house threw his figure in
+sharp relief.</p>
+
+<p>Cho Seng waited until a figure showed itself on
+the deck of the junk. Then he shaded his eye with
+his arm. The Chinaman on the deck of the junk
+must have observed the figure of his fellow countryman
+on the hill, for he also shaded his eyes with
+his arm.</p>
+
+<p>Cho Seng looked quickly to the right&mdash;to the left.
+There was no one stirring. The sentinel at the
+gate drowsed against the carriage of the saucy brass
+cannon. Shading his eyes once more with a quick
+gesture, Cho Seng walked ten paces ahead. Then
+he walked back five paces. Making a sharp angle
+he walked five paces to one side. Then he turned
+abruptly and faced the jungle.</p>
+
+<p>The watcher on the junk gave no sign that he had
+seen this curious performance. But as Cho Seng
+scuttled back into the house, he disappeared into
+the bowels of the ugly hulk.</p>
+
+<p>An hour passed before Cho Seng reappeared on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
+the veranda. He cast only a casual glance at the
+junk and saw that it was being provisioned. After
+listening for a moment to the rhythmic snoring that
+came from the chamber above&mdash;Mynheer Muller's
+apartment&mdash;he turned the corner of the house and
+set off at a leisurely pace toward the tangle of mangroves,
+banyan, bamboo cane, and ferns that lay a
+quarter of a mile inland on the same elevation on
+which the settlement and stockade stood.</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing in his walk to indicate that
+he had a definite objective. He strolled along in
+apparent aimlessness, as though taking a morning's
+constitutional. Overhead hundreds of birds created
+a terrific din; green and blue-billed gapers
+shrilled noisily; lories piped their matin lays, and
+the hoarse cawing of the trogons mingled discordantly
+with the mellow notes of the mild cuckoos.
+A myriad insect life buzzed and hummed around him,
+and scurried across his pathway. Pale white flowers
+of the night that lined the wall shrank modestly
+into their green cloisters before the bold eye of day.
+But Cho Seng passed them by unseeing, and unhearing.
+Nature had no existence for him except
+as it ministered unto his physical needs. Only once
+did he turn aside&mdash;a quick, panicky jump&mdash;and
+that was when a little spotted snake glided in front
+of him and disappeared into the underbrush.</p>
+
+<p>When he was well within the shadows of the
+mangroves, Cho Seng suddenly brightened and
+began to look about him keenly. Following a
+faintly defined path, he walked along in a circuitous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>
+route until he came to a clearing under the shade
+of a huge banyan tree whose aërial roots rose over
+his head. After peering furtively about and seeing
+no one he uttered a hoarse, guttural call, the call the
+great bird of paradise utters to welcome the sunrise&mdash;"Wowk,
+wowk, wowk."</p>
+
+<p>There was an immediate answer&mdash;the shrill note
+of the argus pheasant. It sounded from the right,
+near by, on the other side of a thick tangle of cane
+and creeper growth. Cho Seng paused in apparent
+disquietude at the border of the thicket, but as
+he hesitated, the call was repeated more urgently.
+Wrenching the cane apart, he stepped carefully into
+the underbrush.</p>
+
+<p>His progress through it was slow. At each step
+he bent low to make certain where his foot fell. He
+had a mortal fear of snakes&mdash;his nightmares were
+ghastly dreams of a loathsome death from a serpent's
+bite.</p>
+
+<p>There was a low ripple of laughter&mdash;girlish laughter.
+Cho Seng straightened quickly. To his right
+was another clearing, and in that clearing there was a
+woman, a young woman just coming into the bloom
+of a glorious beauty. She was seated on a gnarled
+aërial root. One leg was negligently thrown over
+the other, a slender, shapely arm reached gracefully
+upward to grasp a spur from another root, a coil of
+silky black hair, black as tropic night, lay over her
+gleaming shoulder. Her sarong, spotlessly white,
+hung loosely about her wondrous form and was
+caught with a cluster of rubies above her breasts.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
+A sandal-covered foot, dainty, delicately tapering,
+its whiteness tanned with a faint tint of harvest
+brown, was thrust from the folds of the gown. At
+her side, in a silken scabbard, hung a light, skilfully
+wrought kris. The handle was studded with gems.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-morning, Cho Seng," the woman greeted
+demurely.</p>
+
+<p>Cho Seng, making no reply, snapped the cane
+aside and leaped through. Koyala laughed again,
+her voice tinkling like silver bells. The Chinaman's
+laborious progress through the cane had amused her.
+She knew why he stepped so carefully.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-morning, Cho Seng," Koyala repeated.
+Her mocking dark brown eyes tried to meet his, but
+Cho Seng looked studiedly at the ground, in the
+affected humility of Oriental races.</p>
+
+<p>"Cho Seng here," he announced. "What for
+um you wantee me?" He spoke huskily; a physician
+would instantly have suspected he was tubercular.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala's eyes twinkled. A woman, she knew she
+was beautiful. Wherever she went, among whites or
+Malays, Chinese, or Papuans, she was admired.
+But from this stolid, unfathomable, menial Chinaman
+she had never been able to evoke the one
+tribute that every pretty woman, no manner how
+good, demands from man&mdash;a glance of admiration.</p>
+
+<p>"Cho Seng," she pouted, "you have not even
+looked at me. Am I so ugly that you cannot bear
+to see me?"</p>
+
+<p>"What for um you wantee me?" Cho Seng reit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>erated.
+His neck was crooked humbly so that his
+eyes did not rise above the hem of her sarong, and
+his hands were tucked inside the wide sleeves of his
+jacket. His voice was as meek and mild and
+inoffensive as his manner.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala laughed mischievously.</p>
+
+<p>"I asked you a question, Cho Seng," she pointed
+out.</p>
+
+<p>The Chinaman salaamed again, even lower than
+before. His face was imperturbable as he repeated
+in the same mild, disarming accents:</p>
+
+<p>"What for um you wantee me?"</p>
+
+<p>Koyala made a moue.</p>
+
+<p>"That isn't what I asked you, Cho Seng," she
+exclaimed petulantly.</p>
+
+<p>The Chinaman did not move a muscle. Silent,
+calm as a deep-sea bottom, his glance fixed unwaveringly
+on a little spot of black earth near Koyala's
+foot, he awaited her reply.</p>
+
+<p>Leveque's daughter shrugged her shoulders in
+hopeless resignation. Ever since she had known
+him she had tried to surprise him into expressing
+some emotion. Admiration, fear, grief, vanity,
+cupidity&mdash;on all these chords she had played
+without producing response. His imperturbability
+roused her curiosity, his indifference to her beauty
+piqued her, and, womanlike, she exerted herself to
+rouse his interest that she might punish him. So
+far she had been unsuccessful, but that only gave
+keener zest to the game. Koyala was half Dyak,
+she had in her veins the blood of the little brown<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>
+brother who follows his enemy for months, sometimes
+years, until he brings home another dripping
+head to set on his lodge-pole. Patience was therefore
+her birthright.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, Cho Seng, if you think I am ugly&mdash;"
+She paused and arched an eyebrow to see the effect
+of her words. Cho Seng's face was as rigid as
+though carved out of rock. When she saw he did
+not intend to dispute her, Koyala flushed and concluded
+sharply:</p>
+
+<p>"&mdash;then we will talk of other things. What has
+happened at the residency during the past week?"</p>
+
+<p>Cho Seng shot a furtive glance upward. "What
+for um?" he asked cautiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, everything." Koyala spoke with pretended
+indifference. "Tell me, does your <i>baas</i>, the <i>mynheer</i>,
+ever mention me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mynheer Muller belly much mad, belly much
+drink <i>jenever</i> (gin), belly much say 'damn-damn,
+Cho Seng,'" the Chinaman grunted.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala's laughter rang out merrily in delicious
+peals that started the rain-birds and the gapers to
+vain emulation. Cho Seng hissed a warning and
+cast apprehensive glances about the jungle, but
+Koyala, mocking the birds, provoked a hubbub of
+furious scolding overhead and laughed again.</p>
+
+<p>"There's nobody near to hear us," she asserted
+lightly.</p>
+
+<p>"Mebbe him in bush," Cho Seng warned.</p>
+
+<p>"Not when the southeast monsoon ceases to blow,"
+Koyala negatived. "Mynheer Muller loves his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>
+bed too well when our Bornean sun scorches us like
+to-day. But tell me what your master has been
+doing?"</p>
+
+<p>She snuggled into a more comfortable position
+on the root. Cho Seng folded his hands over his
+stomach.</p>
+
+<p>"Morning him sleep," he related laconically.
+"Him eat. Him speakee <i>orang kaya</i>, Wobanguli,
+drink <i>jenever</i>. Him speakee Kapitein Van Slyck,
+drink <i>jenever</i>. Him sleep some more. Bimeby
+when sun so-so&mdash;" Cho Seng indicated the position
+of the sun in late afternoon&mdash;" him go speakee Mynheer
+Blauwpot, eat some more. Bimeby come home,
+sleep. Plenty say 'damn-damn, Cho Seng.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Does he ever mention me?" Koyala asked. Her
+eyes twinkled coquettishly.</p>
+
+<p>"Plenty say nothing," Cho Seng replied.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala's face fell. "He doesn't speak of me at
+all?"</p>
+
+<p>Cho Seng shot a sidelong glance at her.</p>
+
+<p>"Him no speakee Koyala, him plenty drink
+<i>jenever</i>, plenty say 'damn-damn, Cho Seng.'" He
+looked up stealthily to see the effect of his words.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala crushed a fern underfoot with a vicious
+dab of her sandaled toes. Something like the ghost
+of a grin crossed the Chinaman's face, but it was too
+well hidden for Koyala to see it.</p>
+
+<p>"How about Kapitein Van Slyck? Has he missed
+me?" Koyala asked. "It is a week since I have
+been at the residency. He must have noticed it."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Kapitein Van Slyck him no speakee Koyala," the
+Chinaman declared.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala looked at him sternly. "I cannot believe
+that, Cho Seng," she said. "The captain must surely
+have noticed that I have not been in Amsterdam.
+You are not telling me an untruth, are you, Cho
+Seng?"</p>
+
+<p>The Chinaman was meekness incarnate as he reiterated:</p>
+
+<p>"Him no speakee Koyala."</p>
+
+<p>Displeasure gathered on Koyala's face like a
+storm-cloud. She leaped suddenly from the aërial
+root and drew herself upright. At the same moment
+she seemed to undergo a curious transformation. The
+light, coquettish mood passed away like dabs of
+sunlight under a fitful April sky, an imperious light
+gleamed in her eyes and her voice rang with authority
+as she said:</p>
+
+<p>"Cho Seng, you are the eyes and the ears of Ah
+Sing in Bulungan&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The Chinaman interrupted her with a sibilant
+hiss. His mask of humility fell from him and he
+darted keen and angry glances about the cane.</p>
+
+<p>"When Koyala Bintang Burung speaks it is your
+place to listen, Cho Seng," Koyala asserted sternly.
+Her voice rang with authority. Under her steady
+glance the Chinaman's furtive eyes bushed themselves
+in his customary pose of irreproachable meekness.</p>
+
+<p>"You are the eyes and ears of Ah Sing in Bulun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>gan,"
+Koyala reaffirmed, speaking deliberately and
+with emphasis. "You know that there is a covenant
+between your master, your master in Batavia,
+and the council of the <i>orang kayas</i> of the sea Dyaks
+of Bulungan, whereby the children of the sea sail
+in the proas of Ah Sing when the <i>Hanu Token</i> come
+to Koyala on the night winds and tell her to bid
+them go."</p>
+
+<p>The Chinaman glanced anxiously about the jungle,
+fearful that a swaying cluster of cane might reveal
+the presence of an eavesdropper.</p>
+
+<p>"S-ss-st," he hissed.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala's voice hardened. "Tell your master
+this," she said. "The spirits of the highlands
+speak no more through the mouth of the Bintang
+Burung till the eyes and ears of Ah Sing become her
+eyes and ears, too."</p>
+
+<p>There was a significant pause. Cho Seng's face
+shifted and he looked at her slantwise to see how
+seriously he should take the declaration. What he
+saw undoubtedly impressed him with the need of
+promptly placating her, for he announced:</p>
+
+<p>"Cho Seng tellee Mynheer Muller Koyala go hide
+in bush&mdash;big <i>baas</i> in Batavia say muchee damn-damn,
+give muchee gold for Koyala."</p>
+
+<p>The displeasure in Koyala's flushed face mounted
+to anger.</p>
+
+<p>"No, you cannot take credit for that, Cho Seng,"
+she exclaimed sharply. "Word came to Mynheer
+Muller from the governor direct that a price of many
+guilders was put on my head."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Her chin tilted scornfully. "Did you think
+Koyala was so blind that she did not see the gun-boat
+in Bulungan harbor a week ago to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>Cho Seng met her heat with Oriental calm.</p>
+
+<p>"Bang-bang boat, him come six-seven day ago,"
+he declared. "Cho Seng, him speakee Mynheer
+Muller Koyala go hide in bush eight-nine day."</p>
+
+<p>"The gun-boat was in the harbor the morning
+Mynheer Muller told me," Koyala retorted, and
+stopped in sudden recollection. A tiny flash of
+triumph lit the Chinaman's otherwise impassive
+face as he put her unspoken thought into words:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Kapitein</i> him bang-bang boat come see Mynheer
+Muller <i>namiddag</i>," (afternoon) he said, indicating
+the sun's position an hour before sunset.
+"Mynheer Muller tellee Koyala <i>voormiddag</i>" (forenoon).
+He pointed to the sun's morning position in
+the eastern sky.</p>
+
+<p>"That is true," Koyala assented thoughtfully, and
+paused. "How did you hear of it?"</p>
+
+<p>Cho Seng tucked his hands inside his sleeves and
+folded them over his paunch. His neck was bent
+forward and his eyes lowered humbly. Koyala
+knew what the pose portended; it was the Chinaman's
+refuge in a silence that neither plea nor threat
+could break. She rapidly recalled the events of
+that week.</p>
+
+<p>"There was a junk from Macassar in Bulungan
+harbor two weeks&mdash;no, eleven days ago," she exclaimed.
+"Did that bring a message from Ah Sing?"</p>
+
+<p>A startled lift of the Chinaman's chin assured her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
+that her guess was correct. Another thought followed
+swift on the heels of the first.</p>
+
+<p>"The same junk is in the harbor to-day&mdash;came
+here just before sundown last night," she exclaimed.
+"What message did it bring, Cho Seng?"</p>
+
+<p>The Chinaman's face was like a mask. His lips
+were compressed tightly&mdash;it was as though he defied
+her to wedge them open and to force him to reveal
+his secret. An angry sparkle lit Koyala's eyes for a
+moment, she stepped a pace toward him and her
+hand dropped to the hilt of the jeweled kris, then
+she stopped short. A fleeting look of cunning replaced
+the angry gleam; a half-smile came and vanished
+on her lips almost in the same instant.</p>
+
+<p>Her face lifted suddenly toward the leafy canopy.
+Her arms were flung upward in a supplicating gesture.
+The Chinaman, watching her from beneath his lowered
+brow, looked up in startled surprise. Koyala's
+form became rigid, a Galatea turned back to marble.
+Her breath seemed to cease, as though she was in a
+trance. The color left her face, left even her lips.
+Strangely enough, her very paleness made the Dyak
+umber in her cheeks more pronounced.</p>
+
+<p>Her lips parted. A low crooning came forth.
+The Chinaman's knees quaked and gave way as he
+heard the sound. His body bent from the waist
+till his head almost touched the ground.</p>
+
+<p>The crooning gradually took the form of words.
+It was the Malay tongue she spoke&mdash;a language Cho
+Seng knew. The rhythmic beating of his head<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
+against his knees ceased and he listened eagerly,
+with face half-lifted.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Hanu Token, Hanu Token</i>, spirits of the highlands,
+whither are you taking me?" Koyala cried.
+She paused, and a deathlike silence followed. Suddenly
+she began speaking again, her figure swaying
+like a tall lily stalk in a spring breeze, her voice low-pitched
+and musically mystic like the voice of one
+speaking from a far distance.</p>
+
+<p>"I see the jungle, the jungle where the mother of
+rivers gushes out of the great smoking mountain.
+I see the pit of serpents in the jungle&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A trembling seized Cho Seng.</p>
+
+<p>"The serpents are hungry, they have not been fed,
+they clamor for the blood of a man. I see him whose
+foot is over the edge of the pit, he slips, he falls, he
+tries to catch himself, but the bamboo slips out of
+his clutching fingers&mdash;I see his face&mdash;it is the face
+of him whose tongue speaks double, it is the face
+of&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A horrible groan burst from the Chinaman. He
+staggered to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Neen, neen, neen, neen</i>," he cried hoarsely in an
+agonized negative. "Cho Seng tellee Bintang Burung&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A tremulous sigh escaped from Koyala's lips. Her
+body shook as though swayed by the wind. Her
+eyes opened slowly, vacantly, as though she was
+awakening from a deep sleep. She looked at Cho
+Seng with an absent stare, seeming to wonder why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>
+he was there, why she was where she was. The
+Chinaman, made voluble through fear, chattered:</p>
+
+<p>"Him junk say big <i>baas gouverneur</i> speakee muchee
+damn-damn; no gambir, no rice, no copra, no
+coffee from Bulungan one-two year; sendee new
+resident bimeby belly quick."</p>
+
+<p>Koyala's face paled.</p>
+
+<p>"Send a new resident?" she asked incredulously.
+"What of Mynheer Muller?"</p>
+
+<p>The look of fear left Cho Seng's face. Involuntarily
+his neck bent and his fingers sought each other
+inside the sleeves. There was cunning mingled
+with malice in his eyes as he looked up furtively and
+feasted on her manifest distress.</p>
+
+<p>"Him chop-chop," he announced laconically.</p>
+
+<p>"They will kill him?" Koyala cried.</p>
+
+<p>The Chinaman had said his word. None knew
+better than he the value of silence. He stood before
+her in all humbleness and calmly awaited her next
+word. All the while his eyes played on her in quick,
+cleverly concealed glances.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala fingered the handle of the kris as she considered
+what the news portended. Her face slowly
+hardened&mdash;there was a look in it of the tigress
+brought to bay.</p>
+
+<p>"Koyala bimeby mally him&mdash;Mynheer Muller, go
+hide in bush?" Cho Seng ventured. The question
+was asked with such an air of simple innocence and
+friendly interest that none could take offense.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala flushed hotly. Then her nose and chin
+rose high with pride.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The Bintang Burung will wed no man, Cho
+Seng," she declared haughtily. "The blood of Chawatangi
+dies in me, but not till Bulungan is purged
+of the <i>orang blanda</i>" (white race). She whipped the
+jeweled kris out of its silken scabbard. "When the
+last white man spills his heart on the coral shore and
+the wrongs done Chawatangi's daughter, my mother,
+have been avenged, then Koyala will go to join the
+<i>Hanu Token</i> that call her, call her&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She thrust the point of the kris against her breast
+and looked upward toward the far-distant hills and
+the smoking mountain. A look of longing came into
+her eyes, the light of great desire, almost it seemed
+as if she would drive the blade home and join the
+spirits she invoked.</p>
+
+<p>With a sigh she lowered the point of the kris and
+slipped it back into its sheath.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Cho Seng," she said, "Mynheer Muller is
+nothing to me. No man will ever be anything to
+me. But your master has been a kind elder brother
+to Koyala. And like me, he has had to endure the
+shame of an unhappy birth." Her voice sank to a
+whisper. "For his mother, Cho Seng, as you know,
+was a woman of Celebes."</p>
+
+<p>She turned swiftly away that he might not see her
+face. After a moment she said in a voice warm with
+womanly kindness and sympathy:</p>
+
+<p>"Therefore you and I must take care of him, Cho
+Seng. He is weak, he is untruthful, he has made a
+wicked bargain with your master, Ah Sing, which the
+spirits of the hills tell me he shall suffer for, but he is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
+only what his white father made him, and the <i>orang
+blanda</i> must pay!" Her lips contracted grimly.
+"Ay, pay to the last drop of blood! You will be
+true to him, Cho Seng?"</p>
+
+<p>The Chinaman cast a furtive glance upward and
+found her mellow dark-brown eyes looking at him
+earnestly. The eyes seemed to search his very soul.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ja, ja</i>," he pledged.</p>
+
+<p>"Then go, tell the captain of the junk to sail
+quickly to Macassar and send word by a swift messenger
+to Ah Sing that he must let me know the
+moment a new resident is appointed. There is no
+wind and the sun is high; therefore the junk will still
+be in the harbor. Hurry, Cho Seng!"</p>
+
+<p>Without a word the Chinaman wheeled and
+shuffled down the woodland path that led from the
+clearing toward the main highway. Koyala looked
+after him fixedly.</p>
+
+<p>"If his skin were white he could not be more
+false," she observed bitterly. "But he is Ah Sing's
+slave, and Ah Sing needs me, so I need not fear him&mdash;yet."</p>
+
+<p>She followed lightly after Cho Seng until she
+could see the prim top of the residency building
+gleaming white through the trees. Then she stopped
+short. Her face darkened as the Dyak blood gathered
+thickly. A look of implacable hate and passion
+distorted it. Her eyes sought the distant hills:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Hanu Token, Hanu Token</i>, send a young man
+here to rule Bulungan," she prayed. "Send a strong
+man, send a vain man, with a passion for fair women.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>
+Let me dazzle him with my beauty, let me fill his
+heart with longing, let me make his brain reel with
+madness, let me make his body sick with desire.
+Let me make him suffer a thousand deaths before
+he gasps his last breath and his dripping head is
+brought to thy temple in the hills. For the wrongs
+done Chawatangi's daughter, <i>Hanu Token</i>, for the
+wrongs done me!"</p>
+
+<p>With a low sob she fled inland through the cane.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Sachsen's Warning</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Electric tapers were burning dimly in
+Governor-General Van Schouten's sanctum
+at the <i>paleis</i> that evening as Peter Gross was
+ushered in. The governor was seated in a high-backed,
+elaborately carved mahogany chair before
+a highly polished mahogany table. Beside him
+was the omniscient, the indispensable Sachsen.
+The two were talking earnestly in the Dutch language.
+Van Schouten acknowledged Peter Gross's
+entrance with a curt nod and directed him to take a
+chair on the opposite side of the table.</p>
+
+<p>At a word from his superior, Sachsen tucked the
+papers he had been studying into a portfolio. The
+governor stared intently at his visitor for a moment
+before he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Mynheer Gross," he announced sharply, "your
+captain tells me your contract with him runs to the
+end of the voyage. He will not release you."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I must fill my contract, your excellency,"
+Peter Gross replied.</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten frowned with annoyance. He was
+not accustomed to being crossed.</p>
+
+<p>"When will you be able to take over the administration
+of Bulungan, <i>mynheer</i>?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's brow puckered thoughtfully. "In
+three weeks&mdash;let us say thirty days, your excellency."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Donder en bliksem!</i>" the governor exclaimed.
+"We need you there at once."</p>
+
+<p>"That is quite impossible, your excellency. I
+will need help, men that I can trust and who know
+the islands. Such men cannot be picked up in a
+day."</p>
+
+<p>"You can have the pick of my troops."</p>
+
+<p>"I should prefer to choose my own men, your
+excellency," Peter Gross replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh? How so, <i>mynheer</i>?" The governor's eyes
+glinted with suspicion.</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency has been so good as to promise
+me a free hand," Peter Gross replied quietly. "I
+have a plan in mind&mdash;if your excellency desires to
+hear it?"</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten's face cleared.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall discuss that later, <i>mynheer</i>. You will
+be ready to go the first of June, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"On the first of June I shall await your excellency's
+pleasure here at Batavia," Peter Gross agreed.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Nu!</i> that is settled!" The governor gave a grunt
+of satisfaction and squared himself before the table.
+His expression became sternly autocratic.</p>
+
+<p>"Mynheer Gross," he said, "you told us this
+afternoon some of the history of our unhappy residency
+of Bulungan. You demonstrated to our satisfaction
+a most excellent knowledge of conditions
+there. Some of the things you spoke of were&mdash;I
+may say&mdash;surprising. Some touched upon matters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>
+which we thought were known only to ourselves
+and to our privy council. But, <i>mynheer</i>, you did
+not mention one subject that to our mind is the
+gravest problem that confronts our representatives
+in Bulungan. Perhaps you do not know there is
+such a problem. Or perhaps you underestimate its
+seriousness. At any rate, we deem it desirable to
+discuss this matter with you in detail, that you may
+thoroughly understand the difficulties before you,
+and our wishes in the matter. We have requested
+Mynheer Sachsen to speak for us."</p>
+
+<p>He nodded curtly at his secretary.</p>
+
+<p>"You may proceed, Sachsen."</p>
+
+<p>Sachsen's white head, that had bent low over the
+table during the governor's rather pompous little
+speech, slowly lifted. His shrewd gray eyes twinkled
+kindly. His lips parted in a quaintly humorous and
+affectionate smile.</p>
+
+<p>"First of all, Vrind Pieter, let me congratulate
+you," he said, extending a hand across the table.
+Peter Gross's big paw closed over it with a warm
+pressure.</p>
+
+<p>"And let me thank you, Vrind Sachsen," he replied.
+"It was not hard to guess who brought my name to
+his excellency's attention."</p>
+
+<p>"It is Holland's good fortune that you are here,"
+Sachsen declared. "Had you not been worthy,
+Vrind Pieter, I should not have recommended you."
+He looked at the firm, strong face and the deep,
+broad chest and massive shoulders of his protégé
+with almost paternal fondness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"To have earned your good opinion is reward
+enough in itself," Peter Gross asserted.</p>
+
+<p>Sachsen's odd smile, that seemed to find a philosophic
+humor in everything, deepened.</p>
+
+<p>"Your reward, Vrind Pieter," he observed, "is the
+customary recompense of the man who proves his
+wisdom and his strength&mdash;a more onerous duty.
+Bulungan will test you severely, <i>vrind</i> (friend). Do
+you believe that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," Peter Gross assented soberly.</p>
+
+<p>"Pray God to give you wisdom and strength,"
+Sachsen advised gravely. He bowed his head for a
+moment, then stirred in his chair and sat up alertly.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Nu!</i> as to the work that lies before you, I need
+not tell you the history of this residency. For
+Sachsen to presume to instruct Peter Gross in what
+has happened in Bulungan would be folly. As
+great folly as to lecture a dominie on theology."</p>
+
+<p>Again the quaintly humorous quirk of the lips.</p>
+
+<p>"If Peter Gross knew the archipelago half so well
+as his good friend Sachsen he would be a lucky man,"
+Peter Gross retorted spiritedly.</p>
+
+<p>Sachsen's face became suddenly grave.</p>
+
+<p>"We do not doubt your knowledge of conditions
+in our unhappy province, Vrind Pieter. Nor do
+we doubt your ability, your courage, or your sound
+judgment. But, Pieter&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He paused. The clear gray eyes of Peter Gross
+met his questioningly.</p>
+
+<p>"&mdash;You are young, Vrind Pieter."</p>
+
+<p>The governor rose abruptly and plucked down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>
+from the wall a long-stemmed Dutch pipe that was
+suspended by a gaily colored cord from a stout peg.
+He filled the big china bowl of the pipe with nearly
+a half-pound of tobacco, touched a light to the weed,
+and returned to his chair. There was a pregnant
+silence in the room meanwhile.</p>
+
+<p>"How old are you, Vrind Pieter?" Sachsen asked
+gently.</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-five, <i>mynheer</i>," Peter Gross replied.
+There was a pronounced emphasis on the "<i>mynheer</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-five," Sachsen murmured fondly.
+"Twenty-five! Just my age when I was a student
+at Leyden and the gayest young scamp of them all."
+He shook his head. "Twenty-five is very young,
+Vrind Pieter."</p>
+
+<p>"That is a misfortune which only time can remedy,"
+Peter Gross replied drily.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, only time." Sachsen's eyes misted. "Time
+that brings the days 'when strong men shall bow
+themselves, and the grinders shall cease because
+they are few, and the grasshopper shall become a
+burden, and desire shall fail.' I wish you were
+older, Vrind Pieter."</p>
+
+<p>The old man sighed. There was a far-away look in
+his eyes as though he were striving to pierce the
+future and the leagues between Batavia and Bulungan.</p>
+
+<p>"Vrind Gross," he resumed softly, "we have
+known each other a long time. Eight years is a
+long time, and it is eight years since you first came
+to Batavia. You were a cabin-boy then, and you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+ran away from your master because he beat you.
+The wharfmaster at Tanjong Priok found you, and
+was taking you back to your master when old Sachsen
+saw you. Old Sachsen got you free and put
+you on another ship, under a good master, who made
+a good man and a good <i>zeeman</i> (seaman) out of
+you. Do you remember?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never forget!" Peter Gross's voice was
+vibrant with emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"Old Sachsen was your friend then. He has been
+your friend through the years since then. He is
+your friend to-day. Do you believe that?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross impulsively reached his hand across
+the table. Sachsen grasped it and held it.</p>
+
+<p>"Then to-night you will forgive old Sachsen if
+he speaks plainly to you, more plainly than you
+would let other men talk? You will listen, and take
+his words to heart, and consider them well, Pieter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Speak, Sachsen!"</p>
+
+<p>"I knew you would listen, Pieter." Sachsen
+drew a deep breath. His eyes rested fondly on his
+protégé, and he let go Gross's hand reluctantly as
+he leaned back in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Vrind Pieter, you said a little while ago that old
+Sachsen knows the people who live in these <i>kolonien</i>
+(colonies). His knowledge is small&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross made a gesture of dissent, but Sachsen
+did not let him interrupt.</p>
+
+<p>"Yet he has learned some things. It is something
+to have served the state for over two-score years in
+the Netherlands East Indies, first as <i>controlleur</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
+then as resident in Celebes, in Sumatra, in Java,
+and finally as secretary to the <i>gouverneur</i>, as old
+Sachsen has. In those years he has seen much that
+goes on in the hearts of the black, and the brown,
+and the yellow, and the white folk that live in these
+sun-seared islands. Much that is wicked, but also
+much that is good. And he has seen much of the
+fevers that seize men when the sun waves hot and
+the blood races madly through their veins. There
+is the fever of hate, and the fever of revenge, the
+fever of greed, and the fever to grasp God. But
+more universal than all these is the fever of love
+and the fever of lust!"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's brow knit with a puzzled frown.
+"What do you mean, Sachsen?" he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>Sachsen smoothed back his thinning white hair.</p>
+
+<p>"I am an old, old man, Vrind Pieter," he replied
+"Desire has long ago failed me. The passions that
+our fiery Java suns breed in men have drained away.
+The light that is in a comely woman's eyes, the
+thrill that comes at a touch of her warm hand, the
+quickened pulse-beat at the feel of her silken hair
+brushing over one's face&mdash;all these things are ashes
+and dust to old Sachsen. Slim ankles, plump calves,
+and full rounded breasts mean nothing to him. But
+you, Vrind Pieter, are young. You are strong as a
+buffalo, bold as a tiger, vigorous as a banyan tree.
+You have a young man's warm blood in your veins.
+You have the poison of youth in your blood. You
+are a man's man, Peter Gross, but you are also a
+woman's man."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's puzzled frown became a look of
+blank amazement. "What in the devil are you
+driving at, Sachsen?" he demanded, forgetting in his
+astonishment that he was in the governor's presence.</p>
+
+<p>Sachsen leaned forward, his eyes searching his
+protégé's.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you ever loved a woman, Pieter?" he
+countered softly.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross appeared to be choking. The veins
+in his forehead distended.</p>
+
+<p>"What has that to do with Bulungan?" he demanded.
+"You've known me since I was a lad,
+Sachsen; you've known all my comings and goings;
+why do you ask me such&mdash;rot?"</p>
+
+<p>A grimly humorous smile lit the governor's stern
+visage.</p>
+
+<p>"'Let the strong take heed lest they fall,'" Sachsen
+quoted quietly. "Since you say that you love
+no woman, let me ask you this&mdash;have you ever seen
+Koyala?"</p>
+
+<p>The little flash of passion left Peter Gross's face,
+but the puzzled frown remained.</p>
+
+<p>"Koyala," he repeated thoughtfully. "It seems
+to me I have heard the name, but I cannot recall
+how or when."</p>
+
+<p>"Think, think!" Sachsen urged, leaning eagerly
+over the table. "The half-white woman of Borneo,
+the French trader's daughter by a native woman,
+brought up and educated at a mission school in
+Sarawak. The Dyaks call her the <i>Bintang Burung</i>.
+Ha! I see you know her now."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Leveque's daughter, Chawatangi's grandchild?"
+Peter Gross exclaimed. "Of course I know her.
+Who doesn't?" His face sobered. "The unhappiest
+woman in the archipelago. I wonder she
+lives."</p>
+
+<p>"You have seen her?" Sachsen asked.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's eyes twinkled reminiscently. "Ay,
+that I have."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me about it," Sachsen urged, with an imperceptible
+gesture to the governor to say nothing.
+He leaned forward expectantly.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross cocked an eye at the ceiling. "Let
+me see, it was about a year ago," he said. "I was
+with McCloud, on the brig <i>Mary Dietrich</i>. McCloud
+heard at Macassar that there was a settlement of
+Dyaks at the mouth of the Abbas that wanted to
+trade in dammar gum and gambir and didn't ask
+too much <i>balas</i> (tribute money). We crossed the
+straits and found the village. Wolang, the chief,
+gave us a big welcome. We spent one day palavering;
+these natives won't do anything without having
+a <i>bitchara</i> first. The next morning I began loading
+operations, while McCloud entertained the <i>orang
+kaya</i>, Wolang, with a bottle of gin.</p>
+
+<p>"The natives crowded around pretty close, particularly
+the women, anxious to see what we were
+bringing ashore. One girl, quite a pretty girl, went
+so far as to step into the boat, and one of my men
+swung an arm around her and kissed her. She
+screamed."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The governor took his pipe out of his mouth and
+looked up with interest.</p>
+
+<p>"The next minute the mob of Dyaks parted as
+though cut with a scythe. Down the lane came a
+woman, a white woman."</p>
+
+<p>He turned to the secretary. "You have seen
+her, Sachsen?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ja</i>, Pieter."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you can guess how she keeled me over,"
+Peter Gross said. "I took her for white woman, a
+pure blood. She is white; the brown in her skin is
+no deeper than in a Spaniard's. She walked up to
+me&mdash;I could see a hurricane was threatening&mdash;and
+she said:</p>
+
+<p>"'You are English? Go back to your ship, now;
+don't wait a minute, or you will leave your heads
+here.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Madam,' I said, 'the lad was hasty, but meant
+no harm. It will not happen again. I will make the
+lady a present.'</p>
+
+<p>"She turned a look on me that fairly withered
+me. '<i>You</i> think you can buy our women, too?'
+she said, fairly spitting the words. 'Go! go! Don't
+you see my Dyaks fitting arrows in their blow-pipes?'</p>
+
+<p>"McCloud came running up with Chief Wolang.
+'What's this?' he blustered, but Koyala only pointed
+to the sea and said the one word:</p>
+
+<p>"'Go!'</p>
+
+<p>"McCloud spoke to Wolang, but at a nod from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>
+Koyala the chief gave an order to his followers.
+Fifty Dyaks fitted poisoned arrows into their
+<i>sumpitans</i>. McCloud had good judgment; he knew
+when it was no use to <i>bitchara</i> and show gin. We
+rowed back to the ship without the cargo we expected
+to load and set sail at once. Not an arrow
+followed us, but the last thing I saw of the village
+was Koyala on the beach, watching us dip into the
+big rollers of the Celebes Sea."</p>
+
+<p>"She is beautiful?" Sachsen suggested softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, quite an attractive young female," Peter
+Gross agreed in utmost seriousness. The governor's
+grim smile threatened to break out into an open
+grin.</p>
+
+<p>Sachsen looked at the table-top thoughtfully and
+rubbed his hands. "She lost you a cargo," he stated.
+"You have a score to settle with her." He flashed a
+keen glance at his protégé.</p>
+
+<p>"By God, no!" Peter Gross exclaimed. He
+brought his fist down on the table. "She was right,
+eternally right. If a scoundrelly scum from over
+the sea tried to kiss a woman of my kin in that way
+I'd treat him a lot worse than we were treated."</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten blew an angry snort that cut like a
+knife the huge cloud of tobacco-smoke in which he
+had enveloped himself. Peter Gross faced him
+truculently.</p>
+
+<p>"We deserved what we got," he asserted. "When
+we whites get over the notion that the world is a
+playground for us to spill our lusts and vices on and
+the lower races the playthings we can abuse as we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
+please, we'll have peace in these islands. Our missionaries
+preach morals and Christianity; our
+traders, like that damned whelp, Leveque, break
+every law of God and man. Between the two the
+poor benighted heathen loses all the faith he has and
+sinks one grade lower in brutishness than his ancestors
+were before him. If all men were like
+Brooke of Sarawak we'd have had the East Indies
+Christianized by now. The natives were ready to
+make gods out of us&mdash;they did it with Brooke&mdash;but
+now they're looking for a chance to put a knife in
+our backs&mdash;a good many of them are."</p>
+
+<p>He checked himself. "Here I'm preaching. I
+beg your pardon, your excellency."</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten blew another great cloud of tobacco-smoke
+and said nothing. Through the haze his
+eagle-keen eyes searched Peter Gross's face and
+noted the firm chin and tightly drawn lips with stern
+disapproval. Sachsen flashed him a warning glance
+to keep silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Mynheer Gross," the secretary entreated, "let
+me again beg the privileges of an old friend. Is it
+admiration for Koyala's beauty or your keen sense
+of justice that leads you to so warm a defense?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's reply was prompt and decisive.</p>
+
+<p>"Vrind Sachsen, if she had been a hag I'd have
+thought no different."</p>
+
+<p>"Search your heart, Vrind Pieter. Is it not because
+she was young and comely, a woman unafraid,
+that you remember her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Women are nothing to me," Peter Gross re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>torted
+irritably. "But right is right, and wrong is
+wrong, whether in Batavia or Bulungan."</p>
+
+<p>Sachsen shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Vrind Pieter," he declared sadly, "you make
+me very much afraid for you. If you had acknowledged,
+'The woman was fair, a fair woman stirs
+me quickly,' I would have said: 'He is young and
+has eyes to see with, but he is too shrewd to be
+trapped.' But when you say: 'The fault was ours,
+we deserved to lose the cargo,' then I know that you
+are blind, blind to your own weakness, Pieter.
+Clever, wicked women make fools of such as you,
+Pieter."</p>
+
+<p>One eyebrow arched the merest trifle in the direction
+of the governor. Then Sachsen continued:</p>
+
+<p>"Vrind Pieter, I am here to-night to warn you
+against this woman. I have much to tell you about
+her, much that is unpleasant. Will you listen?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"I am at your service, Sachsen."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you listen with an open mind? Will you
+banish from your thoughts all recollection of the
+woman you saw at the mouth of the Abbas River,
+all that you know or think you know of her fancied
+wrongs, and hear what old Sachsen has to say of the
+evil she has done, of the crimes, the piracies, ay,
+even rebellions and treasons for which she has been
+responsible? What do you say, Vrind Pieter?"</p>
+
+<p>Pieter Gross swallowed hard. Words seemed to
+be struggling to his lips, but he kept them back.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
+His teeth were pressed together tightly, the silence
+became tense.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen, Sachsen," he finally said. His voice
+was studiedly calm. "You come from an old, conservative
+race, a race that clings faithfully to the
+precepts and ideals of its fathers and is certain of its
+footing before it makes a step in advance. You
+have the old concept of woman, that her lot is to
+bear, to suffer, and to weep. I come from a fresher,
+newer race, a race that gives its women the same
+liberty of thought and action that it gives its men.
+Therefore there are many things concerning the
+conduct of this woman that we look at in different
+ways. Things that seem improper, ay, sometimes
+treasonable, to you, seem a perfectly natural protest
+to me. You ignore the wrongs she has suffered,
+wrongs that must make life a living hell to her.
+You say she must be content with the place to which
+God has called her, submerge the white blood in her,
+and live a savage among savages."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross pulled his chair nearer the table and
+leaned forward. His face glowed with an intense
+earnestness.</p>
+
+<p>"Great Scot, Sachsen, think of her condition!
+Half white, ay, half French, and that is as proud a
+race as breathes. Beautiful&mdash;beautiful as the sunrise.
+Taught in a missionary school, brought up
+as a white child among white children. And then,
+when the glory of her womanhood comes upon her,
+to learn she is an illegitimate, a half-breed, sister<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>
+to the savage Dyaks, her only future in their filthy
+huts, to kennel with them, breed with them&mdash;God,
+what a horror that revelation must have been!"</p>
+
+<p>He raked his fingers through his hair and stared
+savagely at the wall.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't feel these things, Sachsen," he concluded.
+"You're Dutch to begin with, and so a
+conservative thinker. Then you've been ground
+through the routine of colonial service so many
+years that you've lost every viewpoint except the
+state's expediency. Thank God, I haven't! That
+is why I think I can do something for you in Bulungan&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He checked himself. "Common sense and a little
+elemental justice go a long, long way in dealing
+with savages," he observed.</p>
+
+<p>Sachsen's eyes looked steadily into Peter Gross's.
+Sachsen's kindly smile did not falter. But the
+governor's patience had reached its limit.</p>
+
+<p>"Look you here, Mynheer Gross," he exclaimed,
+"I want no sympathy for that she-devil from my
+resident."</p>
+
+<p>An angry retort leaped to Peter Gross's lips, but
+before it could be uttered Sachsen's hand had leaped
+across the table and had gripped his warningly.</p>
+
+<p>"She may be as beautiful as a houri, but she is a
+witch, a very Jezebel," the governor stormed. "I
+have nipped a dozen uprisings in the bud, and this
+Koyala has been at the bottom of all of them. She
+hates us <i>orang blandas</i> with a hate that the fires of
+hell could not burn out, but she is subtler than the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>
+serpent that taught Mother Eve. She has bewitched
+my <i>controlleur</i>; see that she does not bewitch
+you. I have put a price on her head; your
+first duty will be to see that she is delivered for safe-keeping
+here in Batavia."</p>
+
+<p>The governor's eyes were sparkling fire. There
+was a like anger in Peter Gross's face; he was on the
+point of speaking when Sachsen's nails dug so deeply
+into his hand that he winced.</p>
+
+<p>"Mynheer Gross is an American, therefore he is
+chivalrous," Sachsen observed. "He aims to be
+just, but there is much that he does not understand.
+If your excellency will permit me&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten gave assent by picking up his pipe
+and closing his teeth viciously on the mouthpiece.</p>
+
+<p>Sachsen promptly addressed Peter Gross.</p>
+
+<p>"Vrind Pieter," he said, "I am glad you have
+spoken. Now we understand each other. You are
+just what I knew you were, fearless, honest, frank.
+You have convinced me the more that you are the
+man we must have as resident of Bulungan."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross looked up distrustfully. Van Schouten,
+too, evinced his surprise by taking the pipe
+from his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"But," Sachsen continued, "you have the common
+failing of youth. Youth dreams dreams, it
+would rebuild this sorry world and make it Paradise
+before the snake. It is sure it can. With age
+comes disillusionment. We learn we cannot do
+the things we have set our hands to do in the way
+we planned. We learn we must compromise. Once<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
+old Sachsen had thoughts like yours. To-day"&mdash;he
+smiled tenderly&mdash;"he has the beginnings of
+wisdom. That is, he has learned that God ordains.
+Do you believe that, Vrind Pieter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, of course," Peter Gross acknowledged, a
+trifle bewildered. "But&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, concerning this woman," Sachsen cut in
+briskly. "We will concede that she was wronged
+before she was born. We will concede the sin of her
+father. We will concede his second sin, leaving her
+mother to die in the jungle. We will concede the
+error, if error it was, to educate Koyala in a mission
+school among white children. We will concede
+the fatal error of permitting her to return to her
+own people, knowing the truth of her birth."</p>
+
+<p>His voice took a sharper turn.</p>
+
+<p>"But there are millions of children born in your
+own land, in my land, in every land, with deformed
+bodies, blind perhaps, crippled, with faces uglier
+than baboons. Why? Because one or both of their
+parents sinned. Now I ask you," he demanded
+harshly, "whether these children, because of the
+sin of their parents, have the right to commit crimes,
+plot murders, treasons, rebellions, and stir savage
+people to wars of extermination against their white
+rulers? What is your answer?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is not the question," Peter Gross began,
+but Sachsen interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the question. It was the sin of the parent
+in both cases. Leveque sinned; his daughter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>
+Koyala, suffers. Parents sin everywhere, their children
+must suffer."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross stared at the wall thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Look you here, Vrind Pieter," Sachsen said,
+"learn this great truth. The state is first, then the
+individual. Always the good of the whole people,
+that is the state, first, then the good of the individual.
+Thousands may suffer, thousands may die, but if
+the race benefits, the cost is nothing. This law is
+as old as man. Each generation says it a new way,
+but the law is the same. And so with this Koyala.
+She was wronged, we will admit it. But she cannot
+be permitted to make the whole white race pay for
+those wrongs and halt progress in Borneo for a
+generation. She will have justice; his excellency is a
+just man. But first there must be peace in Bulungan.
+There must be no more plottings, no more
+piracies, no more head-hunting. The spear-heads
+must be separated from their shafts, the krisses must
+be buried, the <i>sumpitans</i> must be broken in two. If
+Koyala will yield, this can be done. If you can
+persuade her to trust us, Pieter, half your work is
+done. Bulungan will become one of our fairest
+residencies, its trade will grow, the piracies will be
+swept from the seas, and the days of head-hunting
+will become a tradition."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross bowed his head.</p>
+
+<p>"God help me, I will," he vowed.</p>
+
+<p>"But see that she does not seduce you, Vrind
+Pieter," the old man entreated earnestly. "You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
+are both young, she is fair, and she is a siren, a
+vampire. Hold fast to your God, to your faith, to
+the oath you take as a servant of the state, and do
+not let her beauty blind you&mdash;no, nor your own
+warm heart either, Pieter."</p>
+
+<p>Sachsen rose. There were tears in his eyes as he
+looked fondly down at the young man that owed
+so much to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Pieter," he said, "old Sachsen will pray for you.
+I must leave you now, Pieter; the governor desires
+to talk to you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Pirate League</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>As Sachsen left the room the governor snapped
+shut the silver cap on the porcelain bowl
+of his pipe and regretfully laid the pipe aside.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Nu</i>, Mynheer Gross, what troops will you need?"
+he asked in a business-like manner. "I have one
+thousand men here in Java that you may have if
+you need them. For the sea there is the gun-boat,
+<i>Prins Lodewyk</i>, and the cutter, <i>Katrina</i>, both of
+which I place at your disposal."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not need a thousand men, your excellency,"
+Peter Gross replied quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ha! I thought not!" the governor exclaimed
+with satisfaction. "An army is useless in the jungle.
+Let them keep their crack troops in the Netherlands
+and give me a few hundred irregulars who
+know the cane and can bivouac in the trees if they
+have to. Your Amsterdammer looks well enough on
+parade, but his skin is too thin for our mosquitoes.
+But that is beside the question. Would five hundred
+men be enough, Mynheer Gross? We have a
+garrison of fifty at Bulungan."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross frowned reflectively at the table-top.</p>
+
+<p>"I would not need five hundred men, your excellency,"
+he announced.</p>
+
+<p>The governor's smile broadened. "You know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>
+more about jungle warfare than I gave you credit
+for, Mynheer Gross," he complimented. "But I
+should have known that the rescuer of Lieutenant
+de Koren was no novice. Only this morning I remarked
+to General Vanden Bosch that a capable
+commander and three hundred experienced bush-fighters
+are enough to drive the last pirate out of
+Bulungan and teach our Dyaks to cultivate their
+long-neglected plantations. What say you to three
+hundred of our best colonials, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will not need three hundred men, your excellency,"
+Peter Gross declared.</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten leaned back in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mynheer Gross, how large a force will
+you need?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's long, ungainly form settled lower in
+his chair. His legs crossed and his chin sagged into
+the palm of his right hand. The fingers pulled
+gently at his cheeks. After a moment's contemplation
+he looked up to meet the governor's inquiring
+glance and remarked:</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency, I shall need about twenty-five
+men."</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten stared at him in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-five men, Mynheer Gross!" he exclaimed.
+"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-five men, men like I have in mind, will
+be all I will need, your excellency," Peter Gross
+assured gravely.</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten edged his chair nearer. "Mynheer
+Gross, do you understand me correctly?" he asked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>
+doubtfully. "I would make you resident of Bulungan.
+I would give you supreme authority in the
+province. The commandant, Captain Van Slyck,
+would be subject to your orders. You will be
+answerable only to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Under no other conditions would I accept your
+excellency's appointment," Peter Gross declared.</p>
+
+<p>"But, Mynheer Gross, what can twenty-five do?
+Bulungan has more than one hundred thousand
+inhabitants, few of whom have ever paid a picul of
+rice or kilo of coffee as tax to the crown. On the
+coast there are the Chinese pirates, the Bugi outlaws
+from Macassar and their traitorous allies, the
+coast Dyaks of Bulungan, of Tidoeng, and Pasir,
+ay, as far north as Sarawak, for those British keep
+their house in no better order than we do ours. In
+the interior we have the hill Dyaks, the worst thieves
+and cut-throats of them all. But these things you
+know. I ask you again, what can twenty-five do
+against so many?"</p>
+
+<p>"With good fortune, bring peace to Bulungan,"
+Peter Gross replied confidently.</p>
+
+<p>The governor leaned aggressively across the table
+and asked the one-word pointed question:</p>
+
+<p>"How?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross uncrossed his legs and tugged gravely
+at his chin.</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency," he said, "I have a plan, not
+fully developed as yet, but a plan. As your excellency
+well knows, there are two nations of Dyaks
+in the province. There are the hillmen&mdash;"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Damned thieving, murdering, head-hunting
+scoundrels!" the governor growled savagely.</p>
+
+<p>"So your excellency has been informed. But I
+believe that much of the evil that is said of them is
+untrue. They are savages, wilder savages than the
+coast Dyaks, and less acquainted with <i>blanken</i>
+(white men). Many of them are head-hunters.
+But they have suffered cruelly from the coast Dyaks,
+with whom, as your excellency has said, they have
+an eternal feud."</p>
+
+<p>"They are pests," the governor snarled. "They
+keep the lowlands in a continual turmoil with their
+raids. We cannot grow a blade of rice on account of
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"That is where your excellency and I must disagree,"
+Peter Gross asserted quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ha!" the governor exclaimed incredulously.
+"What do you say, Mynheer Gross?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency, living in Batavia, you have
+seen only one side of this question, the side your
+underlings have shown you. With your excellency's
+permission I shall show you another side, the side a
+stranger, unprejudiced, with no axes to grind either
+way, saw in his eight years of sailoring about these
+islands. Have I your excellency's permission?"</p>
+
+<p>A frown gathered on the governor's face. His thin
+lips curled, and his bristly mane rose belligerently.</p>
+
+<p>"Proceed," he snapped.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross rested his elbows on the table and
+leaned toward the governor.</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency," he began, "let it be under<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>stood
+that I bring no accusations to-night; that we
+are speaking as man to man. I go to Bulungan to
+inquire into the truth of the things I have heard.
+Whatever I learn shall be faithfully reported to your
+excellency."</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten nodded curtly.</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency has spoken of the unrest in Bulungan,"
+Peter Gross continued. "Your excellency
+also spoke of piracies committed in these seas. It
+is my belief, your excellency, that the government
+has been mistaken in assuming that there is no connection
+between the two. I am satisfied that there
+is a far closer union and a better understanding between
+the Dyaks and the pirates than has ever been
+dreamed of here in Batavia."</p>
+
+<p>The governor smiled derisively.</p>
+
+<p>"You are mistaken, Mynheer Gross," he contradicted.
+"I almost believed so, too, at one time,
+and I had Captain Van Slyck, our commandant at
+Bulungan, investigate for me. I have his report
+here. I shall be glad to let you read it."</p>
+
+<p>He tapped a gong. In a moment Sachsen bustled
+in.</p>
+
+<p>"Sachsen," the governor said, "Kapitein Van
+Slyck's report on the pirates of the straits, if you
+please."</p>
+
+<p>Sachsen bowed and withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be glad to read the captain's report,"
+Peter Gross assured gravely. A grimly humorous
+twinkle lurked in his eyes. The governor was quick
+to note it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But it will not convince you, eh, <i>mynheer</i>?" he
+challenged. He smiled. "You Yankees are an
+obstinate breed&mdash;almost as stubborn as we Dutch."</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid that the captain's report will not
+cover things I know," Peter Gross replied. "Yet
+I have no doubt it will be helpful."</p>
+
+<p>The subtle irony his voice expressed caused the
+governor to look at him quizzically, but Van Schouten
+was restrained from further inquiry by the
+return of Sachsen with the report. The governor
+glanced at the superscription and handed the document
+to Peter Gross with the remark: "Read that
+at your leisure. I will have Sachsen make you a
+copy."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross pocketed the report with a murmured
+word of thanks. The governor frowned, trying to
+recollect where the thread of conversation had been
+broken, and then remarked:</p>
+
+<p>"As I say, Mynheer Gross, I am sure you will
+find yourself mistaken. The Dyaks are thieves and
+head-hunters, a treacherous breed. They do not
+know the meaning of loyalty&mdash;God help us if they
+did! No two villages have ever yet worked together
+for a common aim. As for the pirates, they are
+wolves that prey on everything that comes in their
+path. Some of the <i>orang kayas</i> may be friendly
+with them, but as for there being any organization&mdash;bah!
+it is too ridiculous to even discuss it."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's lips pressed a little tighter.</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency," he replied with perfect equanimity,
+"you have your opinion and I have mine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+My work in Bulungan, I hope, will show which of us
+is right. Yet I venture to say this. Before I have
+left Bulungan I shall be able to prove to your excellency
+that one man, not so very far from your excellency's
+<i>paleis</i> at this moment, has united the majority
+of the sea Dyaks and the pirates into a formidable
+league of which he is the head. More than
+this, he has established a system of espionage which
+reaches into this very house."</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten stared at Peter Gross in amazement
+and incredulity.</p>
+
+<p>"Mynheer Gross," he finally exclaimed, "this is
+nonsense!"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's eyes flashed. "Your excellency,"
+he retorted, "it is the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"What proofs have you?" the governor demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"None at present that could convince your excellency,"
+Peter Gross admitted frankly. "All I have
+is a cumulative series of instances, unrelated in
+themselves, scraps of conversations picked up here
+and there, little things that have come under my
+observation in my sojourns in many ports of the
+archipelago. But in Bulungan I expect to get the
+proofs. When I have them, I shall give them to your
+excellency, that justice may be done. Until then I
+make no charges. All I say is&mdash;guard carefully what
+you would not have your enemies know."</p>
+
+<p>"This is extraordinary," the governor remarked,
+impressed by Peter Gross's intense earnestness.
+"Surely you do not expect me to believe all this on
+your unsupported word, <i>mynheer</i>?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The best corroboration which I can offer is that
+certain matters which your excellency thought were
+known only to himself are now common gossip from
+Batavia to New Guinea," Peter Gross replied.</p>
+
+<p>The governor's head drooped. His face became
+drawn. Lines formed where none had been before.
+The jauntiness, the pompous self-assurance, and the
+truculence that so distinguished him among his
+fellows disappeared from his mien; it was as though
+years of anxiety and care had suddenly passed over
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"This discussion brings us nowhere, Mynheer
+Gross," he wearily remarked. "Let us decide how
+large a force you should have. What you have
+told me convinces me the more that you will need
+at least two hundred men. I hesitate to send you
+with less than a regiment."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me deal with this situation in my own way,
+your excellency," Peter Gross pleaded. "I believe
+that just dealing will win the confidence of the upland
+Dyaks. Once that is done, the rest is easy.
+Twenty-five men, backed by the garrison at Bulungan
+and the hill Dyaks, will be able to break up the
+pirate bands, if the navy does its share. After that
+the problem is one of administration, to convince
+the coast Dyaks that the state is fair, that the state
+is just, and that the state's first thought is the welfare
+of her people, be they brown, black, or white."</p>
+
+<p>"You think twenty-five men can do all that?"
+the governor asked doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"The men I shall choose can, your excellency.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
+They will be men whom I can trust absolutely,
+who have no interests except the service of Peter
+Gross."</p>
+
+<p>"Where will you find them, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"Here in Java, your excellency. Americans.
+Sailors who have left the sea. Men who came here
+to make their fortunes and failed and are too proud
+to go back home. Soldiers from the Philippines, adventurers,
+lads disappointed in love. I could name
+you a dozen such here in Batavia now."</p>
+
+<p>The governor looked at his new lieutenant long
+and thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Do as you deem best, <i>mynheer</i>. It may be God
+has sent you here to teach us why we have failed.
+Is there anything else you need, besides the usual
+stores?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is one more request I wish to make of
+your excellency," Peter Gross replied.</p>
+
+<p>"And that is&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That your excellency cancel the reward offered
+for the arrest of Leveque's daughter."</p>
+
+<p>Van Schouten stroked his brow with a gesture of
+infinite weariness.</p>
+
+<p>"You make strange requests, <i>mynheer</i>," he observed.
+"Yet I am moved to trust you. What you
+ask shall be done."</p>
+
+<p>He rose to signify that the interview was at an
+end. "You may make your requisitions through
+Sachsen, <i>mynheer</i>. God speed you and give you
+wisdom beyond your years."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Mynheer Muller Worries</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Seated in a low-framed rattan chair on the
+broad veranda of his cottage, Mynheer Hendrik
+Muller, <i>controlleur</i>, and acting resident of
+Bulungan, awaited in perspiring impatience the appearance
+of his military associate, Captain Gerrit
+Van Slyck.</p>
+
+<p>State regulations required daily conferences, that
+the civil arm of the government might lay its commands
+upon the military and the military make its
+requisitions upon the civil. An additional incentive
+to prompt attendance upon these was that <i>mynheer</i>
+the resident rarely failed to produce a bottle of
+Hollands, which, compounded with certain odorous
+and acidulated products of the tropics, made a drink
+that cooled the fevered brow and mellowed the
+human heart, made a hundred and twenty in the
+shade seem like seventy, and chased away the home-sickness
+of folk pining for the damp and fog of their
+native Amsterdam.</p>
+
+<p>It was no urgent affair of state, however, that
+made Muller fume and fuss like a washerwoman on a
+rainy Monday at Van Slyck's dilatoriness. A bit
+of gossip, casually dropped by the master of a trading
+schooner who had called for clearance papers an
+hour before, was responsible for his agitation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"When does your new resident arrive?" the visiting
+skipper had asked.</p>
+
+<p>"The new resident?" Muller returned blankly.
+"What new resident?"</p>
+
+<p>The skipper perceived that he was the bearer of
+unpleasant tidings and diplomatically minimized
+the importance of his news.</p>
+
+<p>"Somebody down to Batavia told me you were
+going to have a new resident here," he replied lightly.
+"It's only talk, I s'pose. You hear so many yarns in
+port."</p>
+
+<p>"There is nothing official&mdash;yet," Muller declared.
+He had the air of one who could tell much if he chose.
+But when the sailor had gone back to his ship he
+hurriedly sent Cho Seng to the stockade with an
+urgent request to Van Slyck to come to his house at
+once.</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck was putting the finishing touches to an
+exquisite toilet when he received the message.</p>
+
+<p>"What ails the doddering old fool now?" he
+growled irritably as he read Muller's appeal. "Another
+Malay run amuck, I suppose. Every time a
+few of these <i>bruinevels</i> (brown-skins) get krissed he
+thinks the whole province is going to flame into
+revolt."</p>
+
+<p>Tossing the note into an urn, he leisurely resumed
+his dressing. It was not until he was carefully
+barbered, his hair shampooed and perfumed, his
+nails manicured, and his mustache waxed and twisted
+to the exact angle that a two-months old French
+magazine of fashion dictated as the mode, that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
+dapper captain left the stockade. He was quite
+certain that the last living representative of the
+ancient house of Van Slyck of Amsterdam would
+never be seen in public in dirty linen and unwashed,
+regardless how far <i>mynheer the controlleur</i> might
+forget his self-respect and the dignity of his office.</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck was leisurely strolling along the tree-lined
+lane that led from the iron-wood stockade to
+the cluster of houses colloquially designated "Amsterdam"
+when the impatient Muller perceived his
+approach.</p>
+
+<p>"Devil take the man, why doesn't he hurry?"
+the <i>controlleur</i> swore. With a peremptory gesture he
+signaled Van Slyck to make haste.</p>
+
+<p>"By the beard of Nassau," the captain exclaimed.
+"Does that swine think he can make a Van Slyck
+skip like a butcher's boy? Things have come to a
+pretty pass in the colonies when a Celebes half-breed
+imagines he can make the best blood of
+Amsterdam fetch and carry for him."</p>
+
+<p>Deliberately turning his back on the <i>controlleur</i>,
+he affected to admire the surpassingly beautiful
+bay of Bulungan, heaven's own blue melting into
+green on the shingly shore, with a thousand sabres
+of iridescent foam stabbing the morning horizon.
+Muller was fuming when the commandant finally
+sauntered on the veranda, selected a fat, black
+cigar from the humidor, and gracefully lounged in an
+easy chair.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Donder en bliksem! kapitein</i>, but you lie abed
+later every morning," he growled.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck's thin lips curled with aristocratic
+scorn.</p>
+
+<p>"We cannot all be such conscientious public
+servants as you, <i>mynheer</i>," he observed ironically.</p>
+
+<p>Muller was in that state of nervous agitation that a
+single jarring word would have roused an unrestricted
+torrent of abuse. Fortunately for Van Slyck, however,
+he was obtuse to irony. He took the remark
+literally and for the moment, like oil on troubled
+waters, it calmed the rising tide of his wrath at what
+he deemed the governor-general's black ingratitude.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>kapitein, gij kebt gelijk</i> (you are right, captain)"
+he assented heavily. The blubbery folds
+under his chin crimsoned with his cheeks in complacent
+self-esteem. "There are not many men who
+would have done so well as I have under the conditions
+I had to face&mdash;under the conditions I had to
+face&mdash;<i>kapitein</i>. <i>Ja!</i> Not many men. I have
+worked and slaved to build up this residency. For
+two years now I have done a double duty&mdash;I have
+been both resident and <i>controlleur</i>. <i>Jawel!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Recollection of the skipper's unpleasant news
+recurred to him. His face darkened like a tropic
+sky before a cloudburst.</p>
+
+<p>"And what is my reward, <i>kapitein</i>? What is my
+reward? To have some <i>Amsterdamsche papegaai</i>
+(parrot) put over me." His fist came down wrathily
+on the arm of his chair. "Ten thousand devils! It
+is enough to make a man turn pirate."</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck's cynical face lit with a sudden interest.</p>
+
+<p>"You have heard from Ah Sing?" he inquired.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ah Sing? No. <i>Drommel noch toe!</i>" Muller
+swore. "Who mentioned Ah Sing? That thieving
+Deutscher who runs the schooner we had in port
+over-night told me this not an hour ago. The whole
+of Batavia knows it. They are talking it in every
+<i>rumah makan</i>. And we sit here and know nothing.
+That is the kind of friends we have in Batavia."</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck, apprehensive that the impending
+change might affect him, speculated swiftly how
+much the <i>controlleur</i> knew.</p>
+
+<p>"It is strange that Ah Sing hasn't let us know,"
+he remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah Sing?" Muller growled. "Ah Sing? That
+bloodsucker is all for himself. He would sell us out
+to Van Schouten in a minute if he thought he saw
+any profit in it. <i>Ja!</i> I have even put money into
+his ventures, and this is how he treats me."</p>
+
+<p>"Damnably, I must say," Van Slyck agreed sympathetically.
+"That is, if he knows."</p>
+
+<p>"If he knows, <i>mynheer kapitein</i>? Of course he
+knows. Has he not <i>agenten</i> in every corner of this
+archipelago? Has he not a spy in the <i>paleis</i> itself?"</p>
+
+<p>"He should have sent us word," Van Slyck agreed.
+"Unless <i>mynheer</i>, the new resident, is one of us.
+Who did you say it is, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"How the devil should I know?" Muller growled
+irritably. "All I know is what I told you&mdash;that the
+whole of Batavia says Bulungan is to have a new
+resident."</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck's face fell. He had hoped that the
+<i>controlleur</i> knew at least the identity of the new<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
+executive of the province. Having extracted all
+the information Muller had, he dropped the cloak of
+sympathy and remarked with cool insolence:</p>
+
+<p>"Since you don't know, I think you had better
+make it your business to find out, <i>mynheer</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Muller looked at him doubtfully. "You might
+make an effort also, <i>kapitein</i>," he suggested. "You
+have friends in Batavia. It is your concern as well
+as mine, a new resident would ruin our business."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think he will," Van Slyck replied coolly.
+"If he isn't one of us he won't bother us long. Ah
+Sing won't let any prying reformer interfere with
+business while the profits are coming in as well as
+they are."</p>
+
+<p>A shadow of anxiety crossed Muller's face. He
+cast a troubled look at Van Slyck, who affected to
+admire the multi-tinted color display of jungle, sun,
+and sea.</p>
+
+<p>"What&mdash;what do you mean, <i>kapitein</i>?" he asked
+hesitantly.</p>
+
+<p>"People sometimes begin voyages they do not
+finish," Van Slyck observed. "A man might eat a
+pomegranate that didn't agree with him&mdash;pouf&mdash;the
+colic, and it is all over. There is nothing so
+uncertain as life, <i>mynheer</i>."</p>
+
+<p>The captain replaced his cigar between his teeth
+with a flourish. Muller's pudgy hands caught each
+other convulsively. The folds under his chin flutterred.
+He licked his lips before he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Kapitein</i>&mdash;you mean he might come to an unhappy
+end on the way?" he faltered.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" Van Slyck concentrated his attention
+on his cigar.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Neen, neen</i>, let us have no bloodshed," Muller
+vetoed anxiously. "We have had enough&mdash;" He
+looked around nervously as though he feared someone
+might be overhearing him. "Let him alone.
+We shall find some way to get rid of him. But let
+there be no killing."</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck turned his attention from the landscape
+to the <i>controlleur</i>. There was a look in the
+captain's face that made Muller wince and shift his
+eyes, a look of cyincal contempt, calm, frank, and
+unconcealed. It was the mask lifting, for Van Slyck
+despised his associate. Bold and unscrupulous,
+sticking at nothing that might achieve his end, he
+had no patience with the timid, faltering, often
+conscience-stricken <i>controlleur</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>mynheer</i>," Van Slyck observed at length,
+"you are getting remarkably thin-skinned all of a
+sudden."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed sardonically. Muller winced and
+replied hastily:</p>
+
+<p>"I have been thinking, <i>kapitein</i>, that the proa
+crews have been doing too much killing lately. I
+am going to tell Ah Sing that it must be stopped.
+There are other ways&mdash;we can unload the ships and
+land their crews on some island&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"To starve, or to be left to the tender mercies of
+the Bajaus and the Bugis," Van Slyck sneered.
+"That would be more tender-hearted. You would
+at least transfer the responsibility."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Muller's agitation became more pronounced.</p>
+
+<p>"But we must not let it go on, <i>kapitein</i>," he urged.
+"It hurts the business. Pretty soon we will have
+an investigation, one of these gun-boats will pick up
+one of our proas, somebody will tell, and what will
+happen to us then?"</p>
+
+<p>"We'll be hung," Van Slyck declared succinctly.</p>
+
+<p>Muller's fingers leaped in an involuntary frantic
+gesture to his throat, as though he felt cords tightening
+around his windpipe. His face paled.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Lieve hemel, kapitein</i>, don't speak of such things,"
+he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Then don't talk drivel," Van Slyck snarled.
+"You can't make big profits without taking big
+chances. And you can't have piracy without a little
+blood-letting. We're in this now, and there's no
+going back. So stop your squealing."</p>
+
+<p>Settling back into his chair, he looked calmly
+seaward and exhaled huge clouds of tobacco smoke.
+The frown deepened on Muller's troubled brow as
+he stared vacantly across the crushed coral-shell
+highway.</p>
+
+<p>"You can think of no reason why his excellency
+should be offended with us, <i>kapitein</i>?" he ventured
+anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>controlleur's</i> eagerness to include him in
+his misfortune, evidenced by the use of the plural
+pronoun, evoked a sardonic flicker in Van Slyck's
+cold, gray eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"No, <i>mynheer</i>, I cannot conceive why the governor
+should want to get rid of so valuable a public<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>
+servant as you are," he assured ironically. "You
+have certainly done your best. There have been
+a few disturbances, of course, some head-hunting,
+and the taxes have not been paid, but outside of
+such minor matters everything has done well, very
+well indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Donder en bliksem</i>," Muller exclaimed, "how
+can I raise taxes when those Midianites, the hill
+Dyaks, will not let my coast Dyaks grow a spear of
+rice? Has there been a month without a raid?
+Answer me, <i>kapitein</i>. Have you spent a whole month
+in the stockade without being called to beat back
+some of these thieving plunderers and drive them
+into their hills?"</p>
+
+<p>The sardonic smile flashed across Van Slyck's
+face again.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite true, <i>mynheer</i>. But sometimes I don't
+know if I blame the poor devils. They tell me
+they're only trying to get even because your coast
+Dyaks and Ah Sing's crowd rob them so. Ah Sing
+must be making quite a profit out of the slave business.
+I'll bet he shipped two hundred to China last
+year."</p>
+
+<p>He glanced quizzically at his associate.</p>
+
+<p>"By the way, <i>mynheer</i>," he observed, "you ought
+to know something about that. I understand you
+get a per cent on it."</p>
+
+<p>"I?" Muller exclaimed, and looked affrightedly
+about him. "I, <i>kapitein</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes you do," Van Slyck asserted airily.
+"You've got money invested with Ah Sing in two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>
+proas that are handling that end of the business.
+And it's the big end just now. The merchandise
+pickings are small, and that is all I share in."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at Muller meaningly. There was
+menace in his eyes and menace in his voice as he
+announced:</p>
+
+<p>"I'm only mentioning this, <i>mynheer</i>, so that if the
+new resident should happen to be one of us, with a
+claim to the booty, his share comes out of your pot,
+not mine. Remember that!"</p>
+
+<p>For once cupidity overcame Muller's fear of the
+sharp-witted cynical soldier.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Wat de drommel</i>," he roared, "do you expect me
+to pay all, <i>kapitein</i>, all? Not in a thousand years!
+If there must be a division you shall give up your
+per cent as well as I, <i>stuiver</i> for <i>stuiver</i>, <i>gulden</i> for
+<i>gulden</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>A hectic spot glowed in each of Van Slyck's cheeks,
+and his eyes glittered. Muller's anger rose.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah Sing shall decide between us," he cried heatedly.
+"You cannot rob me in that way, <i>kapitein</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck turned on his associate with an oath.
+"Ah Sing be damned. We'll divide as I say, or&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The pause was more significant than words.
+Muller's ruddy face paled. Van Slyck tapped a
+forefinger significantly on the arm of his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Just remember, if the worst comes to the worst,
+there's this one difference between you and me,
+<i>mynheer</i>. I'm not afraid to die, and you&mdash;are!"
+He smiled.</p>
+
+<p>Muller's breath came thickly, and he stared fas<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>cinatedly
+into the evilly handsome face of the captain,
+whose eyes were fixed on his with a basilisk
+glare. Several seconds passed; then Van Slyck said:</p>
+
+<p>"See that you remember these things, <i>mynheer</i>,
+when our next accounting comes."</p>
+
+<p>The silence that followed was broken by the
+rhythmic pad-pad of wicker sandals on a bamboo
+floor. Cho Seng came on the veranda, bearing a
+tray laden with two glasses of finest crystal and a
+decanter of colorless liquid, both of which he placed
+on a small porch table. Drops of dew formed thickly
+on the chilled surface of the decanter and rolled off
+while the Chinaman mixed the juices of fruits and
+crushed leaves with the potent liquor. The unknown
+discoverer of the priceless recipe he used
+receives more blessings in the Indies daily than all
+the saints on the calendar. When Cho Seng had
+finished, he withdrew. Muller swallowed the contents
+of his glass in a single gulp. Van Slyck sipped
+leisurely. Gradually the tension lessened. After
+a while, between sips, the captain remarked:</p>
+
+<p>"I hear you have a chance to pick up some prize
+money."</p>
+
+<p>Muller looked up with interest. "So, <i>kapitein</i>!"
+he exclaimed with forced jocularity. "Have you
+found a place where guilders grow on trees?"</p>
+
+<p>"Almost as good as that," Van Slyck replied,
+playing his fish.</p>
+
+<p>Finesse and indirection were not Muller's forte.
+"Well, tell us about it, <i>kapitein</i>," he demanded
+bluntly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck's eyes twinkled.</p>
+
+<p>"Catch Koyala," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>The captain's meaning sank into Muller's mind
+slowly. But as comprehension began to dawn upon
+him, his face darkened. The veins showed purple
+under the ruddy skin.</p>
+
+<p>"You are too clever this morning, <i>kapitein</i>," he
+snarled. "Let me remind you that this is your
+duty. The <i>controlleur</i> sits as judge, he does not
+hunt the accused."</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"And let me remind you, <i>mynheer</i>, that I haven't
+received the governor's orders as yet, although they
+reached you more than a week ago." Ironically he
+added: "You must not let your friendship with
+Koyala blind you to your public duties, <i>mynheer</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Muller's face became darker still. He had not
+told any one, and the fact that the orders seemed to
+be public property both alarmed and angered him.</p>
+
+<p>"How did you hear of it?" he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"Not from you, <i>mynheer</i>," Van Slyck mocked.
+"I really do not remember who told me." (As a
+matter of fact it was Wang Fu, the Chinese merchant.)</p>
+
+<p>Muller reflected that officers from the gun-boat
+which carried Van Schouten's mandate might have
+told more than they should have at the stockade.
+But Koyala had received his warning a full week
+before, so she must be safely hidden in the jungle by
+now, he reasoned. Pulling himself together, he
+replied urbanely:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>kapitein</i>, it is true that I have rather neglected
+that matter. I intended to speak to you
+to-day. His excellency orders Koyala Bintang
+Burung's arrest."</p>
+
+<p>"The argus pheasant," Van Slyck observed, "is
+rarely shot. It must be trapped."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Nu, kapitein</i>, that is a chance for you to distinguish
+yourself," Muller replied heartily, confident
+that Van Slyck could never land Koyala.</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck flecked the ash from his cigar and
+looked at the glowing coal thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me that you might be of material
+assistance, <i>mynheer</i>," he observed.</p>
+
+<p>"In what way?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have noticed that the witch-woman is not&mdash;er&mdash;"
+He glanced at Muller quizzically, wondering
+how far he might venture to go&mdash;"not altogether
+indifferent to you."</p>
+
+<p>Muller drew a deep breath. His ruddy face
+became a grayish purple. His clenched hands
+gripped each other until the bones crunched and the
+veins stood in ridges. Drops of perspiration gathered
+on his forehead, he wiped them away mechanically.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Kapitein!</i>" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck looked at him increduously, for he had
+not dreamed Muller's feelings ran so deeply.</p>
+
+<p>"You think&mdash;she&mdash;sometimes thinks of me?"</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck's nimble wits were calculating the value
+to him of this new weakness of the <i>controlleur</i>. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
+foresaw infinite possibilities, Muller in love would be
+clay in his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"I am positive, <i>mynheer</i>," he assured with the
+utmost gravity.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Kapitein</i>, do not make a mistake," Muller entreated.
+His voice trembled and broke. "Are you
+absolutely sure?"</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck restrained a guffaw with difficulty.
+It was so ridiculous&mdash;this mountain of flesh, this
+sweaty, panting porpoise in his unwashed linen in
+love with the slender, graceful Koyala. He choked
+and coughed discreetly.</p>
+
+<p>"I am certain, <i>mynheer</i>," he assured.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me, <i>kapitein</i>, what makes you think so?"
+Muller begged.</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck forced himself to calmness and a judicial
+attitude.</p>
+
+<p>"You know I have seen something of women,
+<i>mynheer</i>," he replied gravely. "Both women here
+and in the best houses in Amsterdam, Paris, and
+London. Believe me, they are all the same&mdash;a fine
+figure of a man attracts them."</p>
+
+<p>He ran his eye over Muller's form in assumed
+admiration.</p>
+
+<p>"You have a figure any woman might admire,
+<i>mynheer</i>. I have seen Koyala's eyes rest on you,
+and I know what she was thinking. You have but
+to speak and she is yours."</p>
+
+<p>"Say you so, <i>kapitein</i>!" Muller cried ecstatically.</p>
+
+<p>"Absolutely," Van Slyck assured. His eyes nar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>rowed.
+The devilish humor incarnate in him could
+not resist the temptation to harrow this tortured
+soul. Watching Muller closely, he inquired:</p>
+
+<p>"Then I can expect you to spread the net, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>The light died in Muller's eyes. A slow, volcanic
+fury succeeded it. He breathed deeply and exhaled
+the breath in an explosive gasp. His hands clenched
+and the veins in his forehead became almost black.
+Van Slyck and he leaped to their feet simultaneously.</p>
+
+<p>"Kapitein Van Slyck," he cried hoarsely, "you
+are a scoundrel! You would sell your own mother.
+Get out of my sight, or God help you, I will break
+you in two."</p>
+
+<p>The door of the <i>controlleur's</i> dwelling opened.
+Muller leaped back, and Van Slyck's hand leaped
+to his holster.</p>
+
+<p>"I am here, Kapitein Van Slyck," a clear, silvery
+voice announced coolly.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala stood in the doorway.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Koyala's Warning</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>For a moment no one spoke. Koyala, poised
+lightly on her feet, her slender, shapely
+young figure held rigidly and her chin uptilted,
+gazed steadily at Van Slyck. Her black eyes
+blazed a scornful defiance. Before her contempt
+even the proud Amsterdammer's arrogance succumbed.
+He reddened shamefacedly under his
+tan.</p>
+
+<p>"I am here, Kapitein Van Slyck," Koyala repeated
+clearly. She stepped toward him and
+reached out a slender, shapely arm, bare to the
+shoulder. "Here is my arm, where are your manacles,
+<i>kapitein</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"Koyala!" Muller gasped huskily. His big body
+was trembling with such violence that the veranda
+shook.</p>
+
+<p>"This is my affair, <i>mynheer</i>," Koyala declared
+coldly, without removing her eyes from Van Slyck.
+She placed herself directly in front of the captain and
+crossed her wrists.</p>
+
+<p>"If you have no irons, use a cord, <i>kapitein</i>," she
+taunted. "But bind fast. The Argus Pheasant is
+not easily held captive."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck thrust her roughly aside.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's have done with this foolishness," he exclaimed
+bruskly.</p>
+
+<p>"What folly, <i>mynheer kapitein</i>?" Koyala demanded
+frigidly.</p>
+
+<p>"You had no business eavesdropping. If you
+heard something unpleasant you have only yourself to
+blame."</p>
+
+<p>Koyala's eyes sparkled with anger.</p>
+
+<p>"Eavesdropping, <i>kapitein</i>? I came here with a
+message of great importance to <i>mynheer</i> the <i>controlleur</i>.
+Even the birds cock their ears to listen
+when they hear the hunter approach, <i>kapitein</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Turning her back with scornful indifference on Van
+Slyck, she crossed over to Muller and placed both
+her hands on his shoulder. Another fit of trembling
+seized the acting resident and his eyes swam.</p>
+
+<p>"You will forgive me, will you not, <i>mynheer</i>, for
+taking such liberties in your house?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of&mdash;of course," Muller stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"I heard a little of what was said," Koyala
+said; "enough to show me that I have a good friend
+here, a friend on whom I can always rely."</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck caught the emphasis on the word
+"friend" and smiled sardonically.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>Sister</i> Koyala," he remarked mockingly,
+"if you and <i>Brother</i> Muller will be seated we will hear
+your important message."</p>
+
+<p>Muller plumped heavily into a chair. Things had
+been going too rapidly for him, his heavy wits were
+badly addled, and he needed time to compose himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>
+and get a fresh grip on the situation. There was
+only one other chair on the veranda. Perceiving
+this, Van Slyck sprang forward and placed it for
+Koyala, smiling satirically as he did so. Koyala
+frowned with annoyance, hesitated a moment, then
+accepted it. Van Slyck swung a leg over the
+veranda rail.</p>
+
+<p>"Your message, my dear Koyala," he prompted.
+He used the term of endearment lingeringly, with a
+quick side glance at Muller, but the <i>controlleur</i> was
+oblivious to both.</p>
+
+<p>"The message is for Mynheer Muller," Koyala
+announced icily.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah? So?" Van Slyck swung the leg free and
+rose. "Then I am not needed. I bid the dear
+bother and sister adieux."</p>
+
+<p>He made an elaborate French bow and started
+to leave. The embarrassed Muller made a hasty
+protest.</p>
+
+<p>"Ho, <i>kapitein</i>!" he cried, "do not leave us.
+<i>Donder en bliksem!</i> the message may be for us both.
+Who is it from, Koyala?"</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck was divided between two desires. He
+saw that Muller was in a panic at the thought of
+being left alone with Koyala, and for that reason
+was keenly tempted to get out of sight as quickly as
+possible. On the other hand he was curious to
+hear her communication, aware that only a matter
+of unusual import could have called her from the
+bush. Undecided, he lingered on the steps.</p>
+
+<p>"It was from Ah Sing," Koyala announced.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck's indecision vanished. He stepped
+briskly back on the porch.</p>
+
+<p>"From Ah Sing?" he exclaimed. "Mynheer
+Muller and I were just discussing his affairs. Does
+it concern the new resident we are to have?"</p>
+
+<p>"It does," Koyala acknowledged.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is it?" Muller and the captain cried in the
+same breath.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala glanced vindictively at Van Slyck.</p>
+
+<p>"You are sure that you will not sell me to him,
+<i>mynheer kapitein</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck scowled. "Tell us about the resident,"
+he directed curtly.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala's eyes sparkled maliciously.</p>
+
+<p>"The new resident, <i>mynheer kapitein</i>, seems to
+have a higher opinion of me than you have. You
+see, he has already persuaded the governor to withdraw
+the offer he made for my person."</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck bit his lip, but ignored the thrust.</p>
+
+<p>"Then he's one of us?" he demanded bruskly.</p>
+
+<p>"On the contrary, he is a most dangerous enemy,"
+Koyala contradicted.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Lieve hemel</i>, don't keep us waiting," Muller
+cried impatiently. "Who is it, Koyala?"</p>
+
+<p>"A sailor, <i>mynheer</i>," Koyala announced.</p>
+
+<p>"A sailor?" Van Slyck exclaimed incredulously.
+"Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mynheer Peter Gross, of Batavia."</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck and Muller stared at each other blankly,
+each vainly trying to recall ever having heard the
+name before.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Pieter Gross, Pieter Gross, he must be a newcomer,"
+Van Slyck remarked. "I have not heard
+of him before, have you, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is no one by that name in the colonial
+service," Muller declared, shaking his head. "You
+say he is of Batavia, Koyala?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of Batavia, <i>mynheer</i>, but by birth and upbringing,
+and everything else, a Yankee."</p>
+
+<p>"A Yankee?" her hearers chorused incredulously.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, a Yankee. Mate on a trading vessel, or
+so he was a year ago. He has been in the Indies
+the past seven years."</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck broke into a roar of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, by the beard of Nassau, what joke is Chanticleer
+playing us now?" he cried. "He must be
+anxious to get that Yankee out of the way."</p>
+
+<p>Neither Koyala nor Muller joined in his mirth.
+Muller frowned thoughtfully. There was the look
+in his eyes of one who is striving to recollect some
+almost forgotten name or incident.</p>
+
+<p>"Pieter Gross, Pieter Gross," he repeated thoughtfully.
+"Where have I heard that name before?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you remember what happened to Gogolu
+of Lombock the time he captured Lieutenant de
+Koren and his commando?" Koyala asked. "How
+an American sailor and ten of his crew surprised
+Gogolu's band, killed a great many of them, and
+took their prisoners away from them? That was
+Pieter Gross."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Donder en bliksem.</i> I knew I had reason to
+remember that name," Muller cried in alarm. "We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+have no Mynheer de Jonge to deal with this time,
+<i>kapitein</i>. This Yankee is a fighter."</p>
+
+<p>"Good!" Van Slyck exclaimed with satisfaction.
+"We will give him his bellyful. There will
+be plenty for him to do in the bush, eh, <i>mynheer</i>?
+And if he gets too troublesome there are always
+ways of getting rid of him." He raised his eyebrows
+significantly.</p>
+
+<p>"This Yankee is no fool," Muller rejoined anxiously.
+"I heard about that Lombock affair&mdash;it
+was a master coup. We have a bad man to deal
+with, <i>kapitein</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck smiled cynically.</p>
+
+<p>"Humph, <i>mynheer</i>, you make me tired. From
+the way you talk one would think these Yankees
+can fight as well as they can cheat the brown-skins.
+We will fill him up with Hollands, we will swell his
+foolish head with praise till it is ready to burst,
+and then we will engineer an uprising in the hill
+district. Koyala can manage that for us. When
+Mynheer, the Yankee, hears of it he will be that
+thirsty for glory there will be no holding him. We
+will start him off with our blessings, and then we
+will continue our business in peace. What do you
+think of the plan, my dear Koyala?"</p>
+
+<p>"Evidently you don't know Mynheer Gross,"
+Koyala retorted coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you?" Van Slyck asked, quick as a flash.</p>
+
+<p>"I have seen him," Koyala acknowledged. "Once.
+It was at the mouth of the Abbas River." She
+described the incident.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"He is no fool," she concluded. "He is a strong
+man, and an able man, one you will have to look
+out for."</p>
+
+<p>"And a devilish handsome young man, too, I'll
+wager," Van Slyck observed maliciously with a
+sidelong glance at Muller. The <i>controlleur's</i> ruddy
+face darkened with a quick spasm of jealousy, at
+which the captain chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, a remarkably handsome man," Koyala
+replied coolly. "We need handsome men in Bulungan,
+don't we, captain? Handsome white men?"</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck looked at her quickly. He felt a certain
+significance in her question that eluded him.
+It was not the first time she had indulged in such
+remarks, quite trivial on their face, but invested
+with a mysterious something the way she said them.
+He knew her tragic history and was sharp enough to
+guess that her unholy alliance with Ah Sing grew out
+of a savage desire to revenge herself on a government
+which had permitted her to be brought up a
+white woman and a victim of appetites and desires
+she could never satisfy. What he did not know, did
+not even dream, was the depth of her hate against
+the whole white race and her fixed purpose to sweep
+the last white man out of Bulungan.</p>
+
+<p>"We do have a dearth of society here in Bulungan,"
+he conceded. "Do you find it so, too?"</p>
+
+<p>The question was a direct stab, for not a white
+woman in the residency would open her doors to
+Koyala. The Dyak blood leaped to her face; for
+a moment it seemed that she would spring at him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>
+then she controlled herself with a powerful effort
+and replied in a voice studiedly reserved:</p>
+
+<p>"I do, <i>mynheer kapitein</i>, but one must expect to
+have a limited circle when there are so few that can
+be trusted."</p>
+
+<p>At this juncture Muller's jealous fury overcame
+all bounds. Jealousy accomplished what all Van
+Slyck's scorn and threats could not do, it made him
+eager to put the newcomer out of the way.</p>
+
+<p>"What are we going to do?" he thundered. "Sit
+here like turtles on a mud-bank while this Yankee
+lords it over us and ruins our business? <i>Donder en
+bliksem</i>, I won't, whatever the rest of you may do.
+<i>Kapitein</i>, get your wits to work; what is the best
+way to get rid of this Yankee?"</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck looked at him in surprise. Then his
+quick wit instantly guessed the reason for the outburst.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>mynheer</i>," he replied, shrugging his shoulders
+indifferently, "it seems to me that this is a
+matter you are more interested in than I. Mynheer
+Gross does not come to displace me."</p>
+
+<p>"You are ready enough to scheme murders if
+there is a <i>gulden</i> in it for you, but you have no counsel
+for a friend, eh?" Muller snarled. "Let me
+remind you, <i>kapitein</i>, that you are involved just as
+heavily as I."</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck laughed in cynical good humor.</p>
+
+<p>"Let it never be said that a Van Slyck is so base
+as that, <i>mynheer</i>. Supposing we put our heads<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
+together. In the first place, let us give Koyala a
+chance to tell what she knows. Where did you get
+the news, Koyala?"</p>
+
+<p>"That makes no difference, <i>mynheer kapitein</i>,"
+Koyala rejoined coolly. "I have my own avenues
+of information."</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck frowned with annoyance.</p>
+
+<p>"When does he come here?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"We may expect him any time," Koyala stated.
+"He is to come when the rainy season closes, and
+that will be in a few days."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Donder en bliksem</i>, does Ah Sing know this?"
+Muller asked anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck's lips curled in cynical amusement at
+the inanity of the question.</p>
+
+<p>"He knows," Koyala declared.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course he knows," Van Slyck added sarcastically.
+"The question is, what is he going to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know," Koyala replied. "He can tell
+you that himself when he comes here."</p>
+
+<p>"He's coming here?" Van Slyck asked quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"When?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not in Ah Sing's councils," Koyala declared
+coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"The deuce you're not," Van Slyck retorted irritably.
+"You seem to know a lot of things we hadn't
+heard of. What does Ah Sing expect us to do?
+Pander to this Yankee deck-scrubber until he
+comes?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"We will do what we think best," Muller observed
+grimly.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala looked at him steadily until his glance fell.</p>
+
+<p>"You will both leave him alone and attend to your
+own affairs," she announced. "The new resident
+will be taken care of by Ah Sing&mdash;and by me."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Long Arm of Ah Sing</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Two weeks after receiving his appointment as
+resident of Bulungan, Peter Gross stood on a
+wharf along the Batavia water-front and
+looked wistfully out to sea. It was early evening
+and quite dark, for the moon had not risen and the
+eastern sky from the zenith down was obscured by
+fitful patches of cloud, gray-winged messengers of
+rain. In the west, Venus glowed with a warm,
+seductive light, like a lamp in a Spanish garden. A
+brisk and vigorous breeze roughed the waters of
+the bay that raced shoreward in long rollers to
+escape its impetuous wooing.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross breathed the salt air deeply and
+stared steadfastly into the west, for he was sick at
+heart. Not until now did he realize what giving up
+the sea meant to him. The sea!&mdash;it had been a
+second mother to him, receiving him into its open
+arms when he ran away from the drudgery of the
+farm to satisfy the wanderlust that ached and ached
+in his boyish heart. Ay, it had mothered him,
+cradling him at night on its fond bosom while it
+sang a wild and eerie refrain among sail and cordage,
+buffeting him in its ill-humor, feeding him, and
+even clothing him. His first yellow oilskin, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>
+remembered poignantly, had been salvaged from a
+wreck.</p>
+
+<p>Now he was leaving that mother. He was leaving
+the life he had lived for ten years. He was denying
+the dreams and ambitions of his youth. He was
+casting aside the dream of some day standing on the
+deck of his own ship with a score of smart sailors
+to jump at his command. A feeling akin to the
+home-sickness he had suffered when, a lad of fifteen,
+he lived through his first storm at sea, in the hold of
+a cattle-ship, came over him now. Almost he regretted
+his decision.</p>
+
+<p>Since bidding good-bye to Captain Threthaway
+two weeks before, he had picked twenty-four of the
+twenty-five men he intended to take with him for
+the pacification of Bulungan. The twenty-fifth he
+expected to sign that night at the home of his quondam
+skipper, Captain Roderick Rouse, better known
+as Roaring Rory. Rouse had been a trader in the
+south seas for many years and was now skipper of a
+smart little cottage in Ryswyk, the European residence
+section of Batavia. Peter Gross's presence
+at the water-front was explained by the fact that he
+had an hour to spare and naturally drifted to Tanjong
+Priok, the shipping center.</p>
+
+<p>The selection of the company had not been an
+easy task. Peter Gross had not expected that it
+would be. He found the type of men he wanted
+even scarcer than he anticipated. For the past
+two weeks beachcombers and loafers along the
+wharves, and tourists, traders, and gentlemen ad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>venturers
+at the hotels had looked curiously at the
+big, well-dressed sailor who always seemed to have
+plenty of time and money to spend, and was always
+ready to gossip. Some of them tried to draw him
+out. To these he talked vaguely about seeing a
+little of Java before he went sailoring again. Opinion
+became general that for a sailor Peter Gross was
+remarkably close-mouthed.</p>
+
+<p>While he was to all appearances idly dawdling
+about, Peter Gross was in reality getting information
+concerning hardy young men of adventuresome
+spirit who might be persuaded to undertake an expedition
+that meant risk of life and who could be relied
+upon. Each man was carefully sounded before he
+was signed, and when signed, was told to keep his
+mouth shut.</p>
+
+<p>But the major problem, to find a capable leader of
+such a body of men, was still unsolved. Peter Gross
+realized that his duties as resident precluded him
+from taking personal charge. He also recognized
+his limitations. He was a sailor; a soldier was
+needed to whip the company in shape, a bush-fighter
+who knew how to dispose those under him when
+Dyak arrows and Chinese bullets began to fly overhead
+in the jungle.</p>
+
+<p>Two weeks of diligent search had failed to unearth
+any one with the necessary qualifications. Peter
+Gross was beginning to despair when he thought of
+his former skipper, Captain Rouse. Looking him
+up, he explained his predicament.</p>
+
+<p>"By the great Polar B'ar," Roaring Rory bel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>lowed
+when Peter Gross had finished his recital.
+"How the dickens do you expect to clean out that
+hell-hole with twenty-five men? Man, there's a
+hundred thousand Dyaks alone, let alone those
+rat-faced Chinks that come snoopin' down like
+buzzards smellin' carrion, and the cut-throat Bugis,
+and the bad men the English chased out of Sarawak,
+and the Sulu pirates, and Lord knows what all.
+It's suicide."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not going to Bulungan to make war," Peter
+Gross explained mildly.</p>
+
+<p>Roaring Rory spat a huge cud of tobacco into a
+cuspidor six feet away, the better to express his
+astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Then what in blazes are you goin' there for?"
+he roared.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross permitted himself one of his rare
+smiles. There was a positive twinkle in his eyes as
+he replied:</p>
+
+<p>"To convince them I am their best friend."</p>
+
+<p>Roaring Rory's eyes opened wide.</p>
+
+<p>"Convince 'em&mdash;what?" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"That I am their friend."</p>
+
+<p>The old sea captain stared at his ex-mate.</p>
+
+<p>"You're jokin'," he declared.</p>
+
+<p>"I was never more serious in my life," Peter Gross
+assured gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you're a damn' fool," Roaring Rory asserted.
+"Yes, sir, a damn' fool. I didn't think it
+of ye, Peter."</p>
+
+<p>"It will take time, but I believe I see my way,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>
+Peter Gross replied quietly. He explained his plan
+briefly, and as he described how he expected to win
+the confidence and support of the hillmen, Roaring
+Rory became calmer.</p>
+
+<p>"Mebbe you can do it, Peter, mebbe you can do
+it," he conceded dubiously. "But that devil of an
+Ah Sing has a long arm, and by the bye, I'd keep
+indoors after sundown if I were you."</p>
+
+<p>"But this isn't getting me the man I need," Peter
+Gross pointed out. "Can you recommend any one,
+captain?"</p>
+
+<p>Roaring Rory squared back in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"I hain't got the latitude and longitude of this-here
+proposition of yours figured just yet," he
+replied, producing a plug of tobacco and biting off a
+generous portion before passing it hospitably to his
+visitor. "Just what kind of a man do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross drew his chair a few inches nearer the
+captain's.</p>
+
+<p>"What I want," he said, "is a man that I can
+trust&mdash;no matter what happens. He doesn't need
+to know seamanship, but he's got to be absolutely
+square, a man the sight of gold or women won't
+turn. He has to be a soldier, an ex-army officer,
+and a bush-fighter, a man who has seen service in
+the jungle. A man from the Philippines would
+just fill the bill. He has to be the sort of a man his
+men will swear by. And he has to have a clean
+record."</p>
+
+<p>Roaring Rory grunted. "Ye don't want nothin',
+do ye? I'd recommend the Angel Gabriel."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"There is such a man," Peter Gross insisted.
+"There always is. You've got to help me find him,
+captain."</p>
+
+<p>Rouse scratched his head profoundly and squinted
+hard. By and bye a big grin overspread his
+features.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got a nevvy," he announced, "who'd be
+crazy to be with ye. He's only seventeen, but big
+for his age. He's out on my plantation now. Hold
+on," he roared as Peter Gross attempted to interrupt.
+"I'm comin' to number twenty-five. This
+nevvy has a particular friend that's with him now
+out to the plantation. 'Cordin' to his log, this
+chap's the very man ye're lookin' for. Was a captain
+o' volunteer infantry and saw service in the
+Philippines. When his time run out he went to
+Shanghai for a rubber-goods house, and learned all
+there is to know about Chinks. He's the best rifle
+shot in Java. An' he can handle men. He ain't
+much on the brag order, but he sure is all there."</p>
+
+<p>"That is the sort of a man I have been looking
+for," Peter Gross observed with satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"He's worth lookin' up at any rate," Captain
+Rouse declared. "If you care to see him and my
+nevvy, you're in luck. They're comin' back to-night.
+They had a little business here, so they run
+down together and will bunk with me. I expect
+them here at nine o'clock, and if ye're on deck I'll
+interduce you. What d'ye say?"</p>
+
+<p>"I knew you wouldn't fail me, captain," Peter
+Gross replied warmly. "I'll be here."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The shrill whistle of a coaster interrupted Peter
+Gross's melancholy reflections. He recollected with
+a start that it must be near the time he had promised
+to be at Captain Rouse's cottage. Leaving the
+wharves, he ambled along the main traveled highway
+toward the business district until overtaken by a
+belated victoria whose driver he hailed.</p>
+
+<p>The cool of evening was descending from the hills
+as the vehicle turned into the street on which Captain
+Rouse lived. It was a wide, tree-lined lane, with
+oil lamps every six or seven hundred feet whose
+yellow rays struggled ineffectually to banish the
+somber gloom shed by the huge masses of foliage
+that shut out the heavens. Feeling cramped from
+his long ride and a trifle chill, Peter Gross suddenly
+decided to walk the remainder of the distance, halted
+his driver, paid the fare, and dismissed him. Whistling
+cheerily, a rollicking chanty of the sea to which
+his feet kept time, he walked briskly along.</p>
+
+<p>Cutting a bar of song in the middle, he stopped
+suddenly to listen. Somewhere in the darkness behind
+him someone had stumbled into an acacia
+hedge and had uttered a stifled exclamation of pain.
+There was no other sound, except the soughing of
+the breeze through the tree-tops.</p>
+
+<p>"A drunken coolie," he observed to himself. He
+stepped briskly along and resumed his whistling.
+The song came to an abrupt close as his keen ears
+caught a faint shuffling not far behind, a shuffling
+like the scraping of a soft-soled shoe against the
+plank walk. He turned swiftly, ears pricked, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>
+looked steadily in the direction that the sound came
+from, but the somber shadows defied his searching
+glance.</p>
+
+<p>"Only coolies," he murmured, but an uneasy
+feeling came upon him and he quickened his pace.
+His right hand involuntarily slipped to his coat-pocket
+for the pistol he customarily carried. It was
+not there. A moment's thought and he recollected
+he had left it in his room.</p>
+
+<p>As he reached the next street-lamp he hesitated.
+Ahead of him was a long area of unlighted thoroughfare.
+Evidently the lamp-lighter had neglected his
+duties. Or, Peter Gross reflected, some malicious
+hand might have extinguished the lights. It was
+on this very portion of the lane that Captain Rouse's
+cottage stood, only a few hundred yards farther.</p>
+
+<p>He listened sharply a moment. Back in the
+shadows off from the lane a piano tinkled, the langorous
+Dream Waltz from the Tales of Hoffman. A
+lighted victoria clattered toward him, then turned
+into a brick-paved driveway. Else not a sound.
+The very silence was ominous.</p>
+
+<p>Walking slowly, to accustom his eyes to the gloom,
+Peter Gross left the friendly circle of light. As the
+shadows began to envelop him he heard the sound of
+running feet on turf. Some one inside the hedge
+was trying to overhaul him. He broke into a dog-trot.</p>
+
+<p>A low whistle cut the silence. Leaping forward,
+he broke into a sprint. Rouse's cottage was only a
+hundred yards ahead&mdash;a dash and he would be there.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A whistle from in front. A like sound from the
+other side of the lane. The stealthy tap-tapping of
+feet, sandaled feet, from every direction.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Peter Gross experienced the sensation
+of a hunted creature driven to bay. It was
+only for a moment, however, and then he acquainted
+himself with his surroundings in a quick, comprehensive
+glance. On one side of him was the hedge,
+on the other a line of tall kenari-trees.</p>
+
+<p>Vaulting the hedge, he ran silently and swiftly in
+its shadow, hugging the ground like a fox in the
+brush. Suddenly and without warning he crashed
+full-tilt into a man coming from the opposite direction,
+caught him low, just beneath the ribs. The
+man crashed back into the hedge with an explosive
+gasp.</p>
+
+<p>Ahead were white pickets, the friendly white
+pickets that enclosed Captain Rouse's grounds.
+He dashed toward them, but he was too late. Out
+of a mass of shrubbery a short, squat figure leaped
+at him. There was the flash of a knife. Peter
+Gross had no chance to grapple with his assailant.
+He dropped like a log, an old sailor's trick, and the
+short, squat figure fell over him. He had an instant
+glimpse of a yellow face, fiendish in its malignancy,
+of a flying queue, of fingers that groped futilely,
+then he rose.</p>
+
+<p>At the same instant a cat-like something sprang
+on him from behind, twisted its legs around his
+body, and fastened its talons into his throat. The
+impact staggered him, but as he found his footing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>
+he tore the claw-like fingers loose and shook the
+creature off. Simultanelusly two shadows in front
+of him materialized into Chinamen with gleaming
+knives. As they leaped at him a red-hot iron seared
+his right forearm and a bolt of lightning numbed his
+left shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>A sound like a hoarse, dry cackle came from Peter
+Gross's throat. His long arms shot out and each
+of his huge hands caught one of his assailants by
+the throat. Bringing their heads together with a
+sound like breaking egg-shells, he tossed them aside.</p>
+
+<p>Before he could turn to flee a dozen shadowy
+forms semi-circled about him. The starlight dimly
+revealed gaunt, yellow faces and glaring eyes, the
+eyes of a wolf-pack. The circle began to narrow.
+Knives glittered. But none of the crouching forms
+dared venture within reach of the gorilla arms.</p>
+
+<p>Then the lion arose in Peter Gross. Beside him
+was an ornamental iron flower-pot. Stooping quickly,
+he seized it and lifted it high above his head. They
+shrank from him, those crouching forms, with shrill
+pipings of alarm, but it was too late. He hurled it
+at the foremost. It caught two of them and bowled
+them over like ninepins. Then he leaped at the
+others. His mighty right caught one under the
+chin and laid him flat. His left dove into the pit of
+another's stomach. The unfortunate Chinaman collapsed
+like a sack of grain.</p>
+
+<p>They ringed him round. A sharp, burning sensation
+swept across his back&mdash;it was the slash of a
+knife. A blade sank into the fleshy part of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>
+throat, and he tore it impatiently away. He struck
+out savagely into the densely packed mass of humanity
+and a primitive cave-man surge of joy
+thrilled him at the impact of his fists against human
+flesh and bone.</p>
+
+<p>But the fight was too unequal. Blood started
+from a dozen cuts; it seemed to him he was afire
+within and without. His blows began to lack
+power and a film came over his eyes, but he struck
+out the more savagely, furious at his own weakness.
+The darkness thickened. The figures before him,
+beside him, behind him, became more confused.
+Two and three heads bobbed where he thought
+there was only one. His blows went wild. The
+jackals were pulling the lion down.</p>
+
+<p>As he pulled himself together for a last desperate
+effort to plough through to the security of Rouse's
+home, the sharp crack of a revolver sounded in
+his ear. At the same instant the lawn leaped
+into a blinding light, a light in which the gory
+figures of his assailants stood out in dazed and uncertain
+relief. The acrid fumes of gunpowder filled
+his nostrils.</p>
+
+<p>Darting toward the hedges like rats scurrying to
+their holes, the Chinamen sought cover. Peter
+Gross hazily saw two men, white men, each of them
+carrying a flash-light and a pistol, vault the pickets.
+A third followed, swinging a lantern and bellowing
+for the "<i>wacht</i>" (police). It was Roaring Rory.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you hurt?" the foremost asked as he approached.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Not bad, I guess," Peter Gross replied thickly.
+He lifted his hand to his forehead in a dazed, uncertain
+way and looked stupidly at the blood that
+gushed over it. A cleft seemed to open at his feet.
+He felt himself sinking&mdash;down, down, down to the
+very foundations of the world. Dimly he heard
+the cry:</p>
+
+<p>"Quick, Paddy, lend a hand."</p>
+
+<p>Then came oblivion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Captain Carver Signs</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>When Peter Gross recovered consciousness
+fifteen minutes later he found himself in
+familiar quarters. He was lying on a cot
+in Captain Rouse's den, commonly designated by
+that gentleman as "the cabin." Captain Rouse's
+face, solemn as an owl's, was leaning over him. As
+he blinked the captain's lips expanded into a grin.</p>
+
+<p>"Wot did I tell ye, 'e's all right!" the captain
+roared delightedly. "Demmit, ye can't kill a
+Sunda schooner bucko mate with a little bloodlettin'.
+Ah Sing pretty near got ye, eh, Peter?"</p>
+
+<p>The last was to Peter Gross, who was sitting up
+and taking inventory of his various bandages, also
+of his hosts. There were two strangers in the room.
+One was a short, stocky young man with a pugnacious
+Irish nose, freckly face, and hair red as a
+burnished copper boiler. His eyes were remarkably
+like the jovial navigator's, Peter Gross observed.
+The other was a dark, well-dressed man of about
+forty, with a military bearing and reserved air. He
+bore the stamp of gentility.</p>
+
+<p>"Captain Carver," Roaring Rory announced.
+"My old mate, Peter Gross, the best man as ever
+served under me."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The elder man stepped forward and clasped Peter
+Gross's hand. The latter tried to rise, but Carver
+restrained him.</p>
+
+<p>"You had better rest a few moments, Mr. Gross,"
+he said. There was a quiet air of authority in his
+voice that instantly attracted the resident, who
+gave him a keen glance.</p>
+
+<p>"My nevvy, Paddy, Peter, the doggonest young
+scamp an old sea-horse ever tried to raise," Rouse
+bellowed. "I wish I could have him for'ard with a
+crew like we used to have on the old <i>Gloucester
+Maid</i>." He guffawed boisterously while the younger
+of the two strangers, his face aglow with a magnetic
+smile, sprang forward and caught Peter Gross's
+hand in a quick, dynamic grip.</p>
+
+<p>"Them's the lads ye've got to thank for bein'
+here," Roaring Rory announced, with evident pride.
+"If they hadn't heard the fracas and butted in, the
+Chinks would have got ye sure."</p>
+
+<p>"I rather fancied it was you whom I have to
+thank for being here," Peter Gross acknowledged
+warmly. "You were certainly just in time."</p>
+
+<p>"Captain Rouse is too modest," Captain Carver
+said. "It was he who heard the disturbance and
+jumped to the conclusion you might be&mdash;in difficulty."</p>
+
+<p>The old navigator shook his head sadly. "I
+warned ye, Peter," he said; "I warned ye against
+that old devil, Ah Sing. Didn't I tell you to be
+careful at night? Ye ain't fit to be trusted alone,
+Peter."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I think you did," Peter Gross acknowledged
+with a twinkle. "But didn't you fix our appointment
+for to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ye should have carried a gun," Roaring Rory
+reproved. "Leastwise a belayin'-pin. Ye like to
+use your fists too well, Peter. Fists are no good
+against knives. I'm a peace-lovin' man, Peter,
+'twould be better for ye if ye patterned after me."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross smiled, for Roaring Rory's record for
+getting into scrapes was known the length and
+breadth of the South Pacific. Looking up, he surprised
+a merry gleam in Captain Carver's eyes and
+Paddy striving hard to remain sober.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll remember your advice, captain," Peter Gross
+assured.</p>
+
+<p>"Humph!" Roaring Rory grunted. "Well, Peter,
+is your head clear enough to talk business?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think so," Peter Gross replied slowly. "Have
+you explained the matter I came here to discuss?"</p>
+
+<p>"Summat, summat," Rouse grunted. "I leave
+the talking to you, Peter."</p>
+
+<p>"Captain Rouse told me you wanted some one
+to take charge of a company of men for a dangerous
+enterprise somewhere in the South Pacific," Carver
+replied. "He said it meant risking life. That
+might mean anything to piracy. I understand,
+however, that your enterprise has official sanction."</p>
+
+<p>"My appointment is from the governor-general
+of the Netherlands East Indies," Peter Gross stated.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes."</p>
+
+<p>"I need a man to drill and lead twenty-five men,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>
+all of whom have had some military training. I
+want a man who knows the Malays and their ways
+and knows the bush."</p>
+
+<p>"I was in the Philippines for two years as a captain
+of volunteer infantry," Carver said. "I was in
+Shanghai for four years and had considerable dealings
+at that time with the Chinese. I know a little of
+their language."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you any one dependent on you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am a bachelor," Captain Carver replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Does twenty-five hundred a year appeal to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"That depends entirely on what services I should
+be expected to render."</p>
+
+<p>Confident that he had landed his man, and convinced
+from Captain Rouse's recommendation and
+his own observations that Carver was the very person
+he had been seeking, Peter Gross threw reserve
+aside and frankly stated the object of his expedition
+and the difficulties before him.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," he concluded, "the game is dangerous,
+but the stakes are big. I have no doubt but what
+Governor Van Schouten will deal handsomely with
+every one who helps restore order in the residency."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Carver was frowning.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like the idea of playing one native element
+against another," he declared. "It always
+breeds trouble. The only people who have ever
+been successful in pulling it off is the British in
+India, and they had to pay for it in blood during
+the Mutiny. The one way to pound the fear of
+God into the hearts of these benighted browns and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
+blacks is to show them you're master. Once they
+get the idea the white man can't keep his grip without
+them, look out for treachery."</p>
+
+<p>"I've thought of that," Peter Gross replied sadly.
+"But to do as you suggest will take at least two regiments
+and will cost the lives of several thousand
+Dyaks. You will have to lay the country bare,
+and you will sow a seed of hate that is bound to bear
+fruit. But if I can persuade them to trust me,
+Bulungan will be pacified. Brooke did it in Sarawak,
+and I believe I can do it here."</p>
+
+<p>Carver stroked his chin in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"You know the country," he said. "If you have
+faith and feel you want me, I'll go with you."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll have a lawyer make the contracts at once,"
+Peter Gross replied. "We can sign them to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you take me with you, too, Mr. Gross?"
+Paddy Rouse asked eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross looked at the lad. The boy's face
+was eloquent with entreaty.</p>
+
+<p>"How old are you?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Seventeen," came the halting acknowledgment.
+"But I've done a man's work for a year. Haven't I,
+avunculus?"</p>
+
+<p>Captain Rouse nodded a reluctant assent. "I
+hate to miss ye, my boy," he said, "but maybe
+a year out there would get the deviltry out of ye
+and make a man of ye. If Peter wants ye, he may
+have ye."</p>
+
+<p>A flash of inspiration came to Peter Gross as he
+glanced at the boy's tousled shock of fiery-red hair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'll take you on a private's pay," he said. "A
+thousand a year. Is that satisfactory?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm signed," Paddy whooped. "Hooray!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>When Peter Gross and his company left Tanjong
+Priok a fortnight later Captain Rouse bade them a
+wistful good-bye at the wharf.</p>
+
+<p>"Take care of the lad; he's all I got," he said
+huskily to the resident. "If it wasn't for the
+damned plantation I'd go with ye, too."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Mynheer Muller's Dream</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>The Dutch gun-boat <i>Prins Lodewyk</i>, a terror
+to evil-doers in the Java and Celebes seas,
+steamed smartly up Bulungan Bay and
+swung into anchorage a quarter of a mile below the
+assemblage of junks and Malay proas clustered at
+the mouth of Bulungan River. She carried a new
+flag below her ensign, the resident's flag. As she
+swung around, her guns barked a double salute, first
+to the flag and then to the resident. Peter Gross and
+his company were come to Bulungan.</p>
+
+<p>The pert brass cannon of the stockade answered
+gun for gun. It was the yapping of terrier against
+mastiff, for the artillery of the fortress was of small
+caliber and an ancient pattern. Its chief service
+was to intimidate the natives of the town who had
+once been bombarded during an unfortunate rebellion
+and had never quite forgotten the sensation of
+being under shell-fire.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross leaned over the rail of the vessel and
+looked fixedly shoreward. His strong, firm chin
+was grimly set. There were lines in his face that
+had not been there a few weeks before when he was
+tendered and accepted his appointment as resident.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>
+Responsibility was sitting heavily upon his shoulders,
+for he now realized the magnitude of the task he had
+so lightly assumed.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Carver joined him. "All's well, so far,
+Mr. Gross," he observed.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross let the remark stand without comment
+for a moment. "Ay, all's well so far," he
+assented heavily.</p>
+
+<p>There was another pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Are we going ashore this afternoon?" Carver
+inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"That is my intention."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you'll want the boys to get their traps on
+deck. At what hour will you want them?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I shall go alone," Peter Gross replied
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Carver looked up quickly. "Not alone, Mr.
+Gross," he expostulated.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross looked sternly shoreward at the open
+water-front of Bulungan town, where dugouts,
+sampans, and crude bark canoes were frantically
+shooting about to every point of the compass in
+helter-skelter confusion.</p>
+
+<p>"I think it would be best," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Carver shook his head. "I don't think I'd do it,
+Mr. Gross," he advised gravely. "I don't think
+you ought to take the chance."</p>
+
+<p>"To convince an enemy you are not afraid is
+often half the fight," Peter Gross observed.</p>
+
+<p>"A good rule, but it doesn't apply to a pack of
+assassins," Carver replied. "And that's what we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>
+seem to be up against. You can't take too big precautions
+against whelps that stab in the dark."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross attempted no contradiction. The
+ever increasing concourse of scantily clad natives
+along the shore held his attention. Carver scanned
+his face anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"They pretty nearly got you at Batavia, Mr.
+Gross," he reminded, anxiety overcoming his natural
+disinclination to give a superior unsolicited advice.</p>
+
+<p>"You may be right," Peter Gross conceded mildly.</p>
+
+<p>Carver pushed his advantage. "If Ah Sing's
+tong men will take a chance at murdering you in
+Batavia under the nose of the governor, they won't
+balk at putting you out of the way in Bulungan, a
+thousand miles from nowhere. There's a hundred
+ways they can get rid of a man and make it look like
+an accident."</p>
+
+<p>"We must expect to take some risks."</p>
+
+<p>Perceiving the uselessness of argument, Carver
+made a final plea. "At least let me go with you,"
+he begged.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross sighed and straightened to his full
+six feet two. "Thank you, captain," he said, "but
+I must go alone. I want to teach Bulungan one
+thing to-day&mdash;that Peter Gross is not afraid."</p>
+
+<p>While Captain Carver was vainly trying to dissuade
+Peter Gross from going ashore, Kapitein Van
+Slyck hastened from his quarters at the fort to the
+<i>controlleur's</i> house. Muller was an uncertain quantity
+in a crisis, the captain was aware; it was vital
+that they act in perfect accord. He found his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
+associate pacing agitatedly in the shade of a screen
+of nipa palms between whose broad leaves he could
+watch the trim white hull and spotless decks of
+the gun-boat.</p>
+
+<p>Muller was smoking furiously. At the crunch of
+Van Slyck's foot on the coraled walk he turned
+quickly, with a nervous start, and his face blanched.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, <i>kapitein</i>," he exclaimed with relief, "is it
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who else would it be?" Van Slyck growled, perceiving
+at once that Muller had worked himself
+into a frenzy of apprehension.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I thought, perhaps, Cho Seng&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You look as though you'd seen a ghost. What's
+there about Cho Seng to be afraid of?"</p>
+
+<p>"&mdash;that Cho Seng had come to tell me Mynheer
+Gross was here," Muller faltered.</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck looked at him keenly, through narrowed
+lids.</p>
+
+<p>"Hum!" he grunted with emphasis. "So it is
+Mynheer Gross already with you, eh, Muller?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a significant emphasis on the "<i>mynheer</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Muller flushed. "Don't get the notion I'm going
+to sweet-mouth to him simply because he is resident,
+<i>kapitein</i>," he retorted, recovering his dignity. "You
+know me well enough&mdash;my foot is in this as deeply
+as yours."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and deeper," Van Slyck replied significantly.</p>
+
+<p>The remark escaped Muller. He was thrusting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>
+aside the screen of nipa leaves to peer toward the
+vessel.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he exclaimed with a sigh of relief, "he has
+not left the ship yet. There are two civilians at the
+forward rail&mdash;come, <i>kapitein</i>, do you think one of
+them is he?"</p>
+
+<p>He opened the screen wider for Van Slyck. The
+captain stepped forward with an expression of bored
+indifference and peered through the aperture.</p>
+
+<p>"H-m!" he muttered. "I wouldn't be surprised
+if the big fellow is Gross. They say he has
+the inches."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope to heaven he stays aboard to-day,"
+Muller prayed fervently.</p>
+
+<p>"He can come ashore whenever he wants to, for
+all I care," Van Slyck remarked.</p>
+
+<p>Muller straightened and let the leaves fall back.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Lieve hemel, neen, kapitein</i>," he expostulated.
+"What would I do if he should question me. My
+reports are undone, there are a dozen cases to be
+tried, I have neglected to settle matters with some
+of the chiefs, and my accounts are in a muddle.
+I don't see how I am ever going to straighten things
+out&mdash;then there are those other things&mdash;what will he
+say?"</p>
+
+<p>He ran his hands through his hair in nervous
+anxiety. Van Slyck contemplated his agitation
+with a darkening frown. "Is the fool going to
+pieces?" was the captain's harrowing thought. He
+clapped a hand on Muller's shoulder with an assumption
+of bluff heartiness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'Sufficient unto the day&mdash;' You know the
+proverb, <i>mynheer</i>," he said cheerfully. "There's
+nothing to worry about&mdash;we won't give him a
+chance at you for two weeks. Kapitein Enckel of
+the <i>Prins</i> will probably bring him ashore to-day.
+We'll receive him here; I'll bring my lieutenants
+over, and Cho Seng can make us a big dinner.</p>
+
+<p>"To-night there will be schnapps and reminiscences,
+to-morrow morning a visit of inspection to
+the fort, to-morrow afternoon a <i>bitchara</i> with the
+Rajah Wobanguli, and the day after a visit to
+Bulungan town. At night visits to Wang Fu's
+house and Marinus Blauwpot's, with cards and
+Hollands. I'll take care of him for you, and you
+can get your books in shape. Go to Barang, if you
+want to, the day we visit Rotterdam&mdash;leave word
+with Cho Seng you were called away to settle an
+important case. Leave everything to me, and when
+you get back we'll have <i>mynheer</i> so drunk he
+won't know a tax statement from an Edammer
+cheese."</p>
+
+<p>Muller's face failed to brighten at the hopeful
+program mapped out by his associate. If anything,
+his agitation increased.</p>
+
+<p>"But he might ask questions to-day, <i>kapitein</i>&mdash;questions
+I cannot answer."</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck's lips curled. His thought was: "Good
+God, what am I going to do with this lump of jelly-fish?"
+But he replied encouragingly:</p>
+
+<p>"No danger of that at all, <i>mynheer</i>. There are
+certain formalities that must be gone through first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
+before a new resident takes hold. It would not be
+good form to kick his predecessor out of office without
+giving the latter a chance to close his books&mdash;even
+a pig of a Yankee knows that. Accept his
+credentials if he offers them, but tell him business
+must wait till the morning. Above all, keep your
+head, say nothing, and be as damnably civil as
+though he were old Van Schouten himself. If we
+can swell his head none of us will have to worry."</p>
+
+<p>"But my accounts, <i>kapitein</i>," Muller faltered.</p>
+
+<p>"To the devil with your accounts," Van Slyck
+exclaimed, losing patience. "Go to Barang, fix
+them up as best you can."</p>
+
+<p>"I can never get them to balance," Muller cried.
+"Our dealings&mdash;the rattan we shipped&mdash;you know."
+He looked fearfully around.</p>
+
+<p>"There never was a <i>controlleur</i> yet that didn't
+line his own pockets," Van Slyck sneered. "But
+his books never showed it. You are a book-keeper,
+<i>mynheer</i>, and you know how to juggle figures. Forget
+these transactions; if you can't, charge the
+moneys you got to some account. There are no
+vouchers or receipts in Bulungan. A handy man
+with figures, like yourself, ought to be able to make
+a set of accounts that that ferret Sachsen himself
+could not find a flaw in."</p>
+
+<p>"But that is not the worst," Muller cried despairingly.
+"There are the taxes, the taxes I
+should have sent to Batavia, the rice that we sold
+instead to Ah Sing."</p>
+
+<p>"Good God! Have you grown a conscience?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>
+Van Slyck snarled. "If you have, drown yourself
+in the bay. Lie, you fool, lie! Tell him the weevils
+ruined the crop, tell him the floods drowned it, tell
+him a tornado swept the fields bare, lay it to the hill
+Dyaks&mdash;anything, anything! But keep your nerve,
+or you'll hang sure."</p>
+
+<p>Muller retreated before the captain's vehemence.</p>
+
+<p>"But the <i>bruinevels</i>, <i>kapitein</i>?" he faltered.
+"They may tell him something different."</p>
+
+<p>"Wobanguli won't; he's too wise to say anything,"
+Van Slyck asserted firmly. "None of the
+others will dare to, either&mdash;all we've got to do is to
+whisper Ah Sing's name to them. But there's little
+danger of any of them except the Rajah seeing him
+until after the <i>Prins</i> is gone. Once she's out of the
+harbor I don't care what they say&mdash;no word of it
+will ever get back to Batavia."</p>
+
+<p>His devilishly handsome smile gleamed sardonically,
+and he twisted his nicely waxed mustache.
+Muller's hands shook.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Kapitein</i>," he replied in an odd, strained voice,
+"I am afraid of this Peter Gross. I had a dream
+last night, a horrible dream&mdash;I am sure it was him I
+saw. I was in old de Jonge's room in the residency
+building&mdash;you know the room&mdash;and the stranger
+of my dream sat in old de Jonge's chair.</p>
+
+<p>"He asked me questions, questions of how I came
+here, and what I have done here, and I talked and
+talked till my mouth was dry as the marsh grass
+before the rains begin to fall. All the while he listened,
+and his eyes seemed to bore through me, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>
+though they said: 'Judas, I know what is going on
+in your heart.'</p>
+
+<p>"At last, when I could say no more, he asked me:
+'<i>Mynheer</i>, how did Mynheer de Jonge die?' Then
+I fell on the ground before him and told him all&mdash;all.
+At the last, soldiers came to take me away to hang
+me, but under the very shadow of the gallows a
+bird swooped down out of the air and carried me
+away, away into the jungle. Then I awoke."</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck broke into scornful laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Mynheer</i>, you had enough to worry about before
+you started dreaming," he said bluntly. "If you're
+going to fill your head with such foolishness I'll leave
+you to your own devices."</p>
+
+<p>"But, <i>kapitein</i>, it might be a warning," Muller
+cried desperately.</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven doesn't send ravens to cheat such rogues
+as you and I from the gallows, <i>mynheer</i>," Van Slyck
+mocked. "We might as well get ready to meet our
+new resident. I see a boat putting off from the
+ship."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Peter Gross's Reception</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>When Peter Gross stepped ashore at the
+foot of the slope on which the fort and
+government buildings stood, three thousand
+pairs of eyes, whose owners were securely hidden
+in the copses and undergrowth for a quarter of
+a mile in both directions along the shore-line, watched
+his every movement. With the lightning celerity
+with which big news travels word had been spread
+through Bulungan town that the new resident was
+coming ashore, and every inhabitant possessed of
+sound legs to bear him had run, crawled, or scrambled
+to a favorable patch of undergrowth where he
+could get a first glimpse of the <i>orang blanda</i> chief
+without being observed.</p>
+
+<p>Perfectly aware of this scrutiny, but calmly
+oblivious to it, Peter Gross stepped out of the boat
+and directed the sailors who rowed it to return to
+their ship. As their oars bit the water he faced the
+path that wound up the hillside and walked along it
+at a dignified and easy pace. His sharp ears caught
+the incessant rustle of leaves, a rustle not made by
+the breeze, and the soft grinding of bits of coral
+under the pressure of naked feet.</p>
+
+<p>Once he surprised a dusky face in the bush, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
+his glance roved to the next object in his line of
+vision in placid unconcern. As he mounted the
+rise he made for the <i>controlleur's</i> home, strolling
+along as calmly as though he were on a Batavia lane.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Duivel noch toe!</i>" Muller exclaimed as the boat
+returned to the ship. "He is coming here alone."
+His voice had an incredulous ring as though he half
+doubted the evidence of his own senses.</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck's eyes danced with satisfaction, and
+his saturnine smile was almost Mephistophelian.</p>
+
+<p>"By Nassau, I was right, after all, <i>mynheer</i>," he
+exclaimed. "He's an ass of a Yankee that Van
+Schouten is having some sport with in sending him
+here."</p>
+
+<p>"There may be something behind this, <i>kapitein</i>,"
+Muller cautioned apprehensively, but Van Slyck
+cut him short.</p>
+
+<p>"Behind this, <i>mynheer</i>? The fool does not even
+know how to maintain the dignity due his office.
+Would he land this way, like a pedler with his pack,
+if he did? Oh, we are going to have some rare
+sport&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck's merriment broke loose in a guffaw.</p>
+
+<p>"You-you will not do anything violent, <i>kapitein</i>?"
+Muller asked apprehensively.</p>
+
+<p>"Violent?" Van Slyck exclaimed. "I wouldn't
+hurt him for a thousand guilders, <i>mynheer</i>. He's
+going to be more fun than even you."</p>
+
+<p>The frank sneer that accompanied the remark
+made the captain's meaning sufficiently clear to
+penetrate even so sluggish a mind as the <i>controlleur's</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>
+He reddened, and an angry retort struggled to his
+lips, but he checked it before it framed itself into
+coherent language. He was too dependent on
+Van Slyck, he realized, to risk offending the latter
+now, but for the first time in their acquaintanceship
+his negative dislike of his more brilliant associate
+deepened to a positive aversion.</p>
+
+<p>"What are we going to do, <i>kapitein</i>?" he asked
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"Welcome him, <i>mynheer</i>!" Again the sardonic
+smile. "Treat him to some of your fine cigars and
+a bottle of your best Hollands. Draw him out,
+make him empty his belly to us. When we have
+sucked him dry and drenched him with liquor we
+will pack him back to the <i>Prins</i> to tell Kapitein
+Enckel what fine fellows we are. To-morrow we'll
+receive him with all ceremony&mdash;I'll instruct him this
+afternoon how a resident is installed in his new post
+and how he must conduct himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Enckel will leave here without a suspicion,
+Mynheer Gross will be ready to trust even his purse
+to us if we say the word, and we will have everything
+our own way as before. But s-s-st! Here he
+comes!" He lifted a restraining hand. "Lord,
+what a shoulder of beef! Silence, now, and best
+your manners, <i>mynheer</i>. Leave the talking to me."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross walked along the kenari-tree shaded
+lane between the evergreen hedges clipped with
+characteristic Dutch primness to a perfect plane.
+Behind him formed a growing column of natives
+whose curiosity had gotten the better of their diffidence.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The resident's keen eyes instantly ferreted out
+Van Slyck and Muller in the shadows of the veranda,
+but he gave no sign of recognition. Mounting the
+steps of the porch, he stood for a moment in dignified
+expectancy, his calm, gray eyes taking the
+measure of each of its occupants.</p>
+
+<p>An apprehensive shiver ran down Muller's spine
+as he met Peter Gross's glance&mdash;those gray eyes
+were so like the silent, inscrutable eyes of the stranger
+in de Jonge's chair whom he saw in his dream. It
+was Van Slyck who spoke first.</p>
+
+<p>"You were looking for some one, <i>mynheer</i>?" he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"For Mynheer Muller, the <i>controlleur</i> and acting
+resident. I think I have found him."</p>
+
+<p>The mildness with which these words were spoken
+restored the captain's aplomb, momentarily shaken
+by Peter Gross's calm, disconcerting stare.</p>
+
+<p>"You have a message for us?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have," Peter Gross replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, from Kapitein Enckel, I suppose," Van
+Slyck remarked urbanely. "Your name is&mdash;" He
+paused significantly.</p>
+
+<p>"It is from his excellency, the Jonkheer Van
+Schouten," Peter Gross corrected quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's tolerance of this interrogation convinced
+Van Slyck that he had to do with an inferior
+intelligence suddenly elevated to an important position
+and very much at sea in it.</p>
+
+<p>"And your message, I understand, is for Mynheer
+Muller, the <i>controlleur</i>?" the captain inquired
+loftily with a pert uptilt of his chin.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"For Mynheer Muller, the <i>controlleur</i>," Peter
+Gross acknowledged gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes. This is Mynheer Muller." He indicated
+the <i>controlleur</i> with a flourish. "But you
+have not yet told us your name."</p>
+
+<p>"I am Peter Gross."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes, Pieter Gross. Pieter Gross." The
+captain repeated the name with evident relish.
+"Pieter Gross. Mynheer Pieter Gross."</p>
+
+<p>There was a subtle emphasis on the <i>mynheer</i>&mdash;a
+half-doubtful use of the word, as though he questioned
+Peter Gross's right to a gentleman's designation.
+It was designed to test the sailor.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's face did not change a muscle.
+Turning to the <i>controlleur</i>, he asked in a voice of
+unruffled calm: "May I speak to you privately,
+<i>mynheer</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>Muller glanced apprehensively at Van Slyck.
+The fears inspired by his dreams made him more
+susceptible to ulterior impressions than the captain,
+whose naturally more acute sensibilities were blunted
+by the preconceived conviction that he had an ignorant
+Yankee to deal with. Van Slyck smiled
+cynically and observed:</p>
+
+<p>"Am I in the way, Mynheer Gross?" Again the
+ironic accent to the <i>mynheer</i>. He rose to go, but
+Muller stayed him with the cry:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Neen, neen, kapitein.</i> Whatever comes from the
+governor concerns you, too. Stay with us, and we
+will see what his excellency has to say."</p>
+
+<p>None knew the importance of first impressions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>
+better than the captain. If the new resident could
+be thwarted in his purpose of seeing Muller alone
+that achievement would exercise its influence on
+all their future relations, Van Slyck perceived.</p>
+
+<p>Assuming an expression of indifference, he sank
+indolently into an easy chair. When he looked up
+he found the gray eyes of Peter Gross fixed full
+upon him.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps I should introduce myself further,
+captain," Peter Gross said. "I am Mynheer Gross,
+of Batavia, your new resident by virtue of his excellency
+the Jonkheer Van Schouten's appointment."</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck's faint, cynical smile deepened a trifle.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, <i>mynheer</i> has been appointed resident," he
+remarked non-committally.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's face hardened sternly.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not the custom in Batavia, captain, for
+officers of the garrison to be seated while their
+superiors stand."</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the astonished captain lost his
+usual assurance. In that moment he unwittingly
+scrambled to his feet in response to the commanding
+look of the gray eyes that stared at him so steadily.
+The instant his brain cleared he regretted the action,
+but another lightning thought saved him from the
+folly of defying the resident by reseating himself
+in the chair he had vacated. Furious at Peter
+Gross, furious at himself, he struggled futilely for
+an effective reply and failed to find it. In the end
+he took refuge in a sullen silence.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross turned again to Muller.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Here are my credentials, <i>mynheer</i>, and a letter
+from his excellency, the governor-general," he announced
+simply.</p>
+
+<p>With the words he placed in Muller's hands two
+envelopes plentifully decorated with sealing-wax
+stamped with the great seal of the Netherlands.
+The <i>controlleur</i> took them with trembling fingers.
+Peter Gross calmly appropriated a chair. As he
+seated himself he remarked:</p>
+
+<p>"Gentlemen, you may sit."</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck ignored the permission and strolled
+to one end of the veranda. He was thinking deeply,
+and all the while stole covert looks at Peter Gross.
+Had he been mistaken, after all, in his estimate of
+the man? Was this apparent guilelessness and simplicity
+a mask? Were Koyala and Muller right?
+Or was the resident's sudden assumption of dignity
+a petty vanity finding vent in the display of newly
+acquired powers?</p>
+
+<p>He stole another look. That face, it was so frank
+and ingenuous, so free from cunning and deceit,
+and so youthful. Its very boyishness persuaded
+Van Slyck. Vanity was the inspiration for the resident's
+sudden assertion of the prerogatives of his
+office, he decided, the petty vanity of a boor eager
+to demonstrate authority. Confidence restored, he
+became keenly alert for a chance to humble this
+froward Yankee.</p>
+
+<p>It was some time before Muller finished reading
+the documents. He was breathing heavily the while,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>
+for he felt that he was reading his own death-warrant.
+There was no doubting their authenticity, for they
+were stamped with the twin lions of the house of
+Orange and the motto, "<i>Je Maintiendrai</i>." The
+signature at the bottom of each was the familiar
+scrawl of Java's gamecock governor.</p>
+
+<p>Muller stared at them blankly for a long time, as
+though he half hoped to find some mitigation of the
+blow that swept his vast administrative powers as
+acting resident from him to the magistracy of a
+district. Dropping them on his lap at last with a
+weary sigh, he remarked:</p>
+
+<p>"Welcome, Mynheer Gross, to Bulungan. I
+wish I could say more, but I cannot. The most I
+can say is that I am happy his excellency has at
+last yielded to my petition and has relieved me of a
+portion of my duties. It is a hard, hard residency
+to govern, <i>mynheer</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"A splendid start," Van Slyck muttered to himself
+under his breath.</p>
+
+<p>"So I have been informed, <i>mynheer</i>," Peter Gross
+replied gravely. "Pardon me a moment."</p>
+
+<p>He turned toward Van Slyck: "Captain, I have
+a letter for you also from his excellency. It will
+inform you of my appointment."</p>
+
+<p>"It would be better form, perhaps, <i>mynheer</i>, for
+me to receive his excellency's commands at Fort
+Wilhelmina," Van Slyck replied suavely, delighted
+at being able to turn the tables.</p>
+
+<p>"Very true, very true, <i>kapitein</i>, if you insist,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>
+Peter Gross agreed quietly. "I hope to visit you at
+the fort within the hour. In the mean time you will
+excuse Mynheer Muller and me."</p>
+
+<p>For the second time a cold chill of doubt seized
+Van Slyck. Was it possible that he had misjudged
+his man? If he had, it was doubly dangerous to
+leave Muller alone with him. He resolved to force
+the issue.</p>
+
+<p>"A thousand pardons, <i>mynheer</i>," he apologized
+smilingly. "Mynheer Muller just now requested
+me to remain."</p>
+
+<p>A swift change came into the face of Peter Gross.
+His chin shot forward; in place of the frank simplicity
+on which Van Slyck had based his estimate
+was a look of authority.</p>
+
+<p>"Mynheer Muller cancels that invitation at my
+request," he announced sternly.</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck glanced in quick appeal at his associate,
+but Muller's eyes were already lowering under
+Peter Gross's commanding glance. Unable to find
+a straw of excuse for holding the captain, the <i>controlleur</i>
+stammered:</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, <i>mynheer</i>. I will see you later, <i>kapitein</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Even then Van Slyck lingered, afraid now to leave
+Muller alone. But the cold, gray eyes of Peter
+Gross followed him; they expressed a decision from
+which there was no appeal. Furious at Muller,
+furious at his own impotence, the captain walked
+slowly across the veranda. Half-way down the
+steps he turned with a glare of defiance, but thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
+better of it. Raging inwardly, and a prey to the
+blackest passions, he strode toward the stockade.
+The unhappy sentinel at the gate, a Javanese
+colonial, was dozing against the brass cannon.</p>
+
+<p>"Devil take you, is this the way you keep guard?"
+Van Slyck roared and leaped at the man. His
+sword flashed from its scabbard and he brought the
+flat of the blade on the unhappy wretch's head.
+The Javanese dropped like a log.</p>
+
+<p>"Bring that carrion to the guard-house and put
+some one on the gate that can keep his eyes open,"
+Van Slyck shouted to young Lieutenant Banning,
+officer of the day. White to the lips, Banning saluted,
+and executed the orders.</p>
+
+<p>In barracks that night the soldiers whispered
+fearfully to each other that a <i>budjang brani</i> (evil
+spirit) had seized their captain again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">A Fever Antidote</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>"You have found Bulungan a difficult province
+to govern, <i>mynheer</i>?" Peter Gross asked.</p>
+
+<p>The words were spoken in a mild, ingratiating
+manner. Peter Gross's voice had the
+friendly quality that so endeared him to all who
+made his acquaintance, and the harshness that
+had distinguished his curt dismissal of the supercilious
+Van Slyck was wholly absent.</p>
+
+<p>Muller wiped away the drops of perspiration that
+had gathered on his forehead. A prey to conscience,
+Van Slyck's dismissal had seemed to him the beginning
+of the end.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ach, mynheer</i>," he faltered, "it has been a heavy
+task. Too much for one man, altogether too much.
+Since Mynheer de Jonge left here two years ago I
+have been both resident and <i>controlleur</i>. I have
+worked night and day, and the heavy work, and the
+worry, have made me almost bald."</p>
+
+<p>That a connection existed between baldness and
+overwork was a new theory to Peter Gross and rather
+amusing, since he knew the circumstances. But
+not the faintest flicker of a smile showed on his face.</p>
+
+<p>"You have found it difficult, then, I presume, to
+keep up with all your work?" he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>Muller instantly grasped at the straw. "Not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>
+only difficult, <i>mynheer</i>, but wholly impossible," he
+vehemently affirmed. "My reports are far behind.
+I suppose his excellency told you that?"</p>
+
+<p>He scanned Peter Gross's face anxiously. The
+latter's serenity remained undisturbed.</p>
+
+<p>"His excellency told me very little," he replied.
+"He suggested that I consult with you and Captain
+Van Slyck to get your ideas on what is needed for
+bettering conditions here. I trust I will have your
+coöperation, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>Muller breathed a silent sigh of relief. "That
+you will, <i>mynheer</i>," he assured fervently. "I shall
+be glad to help you all I can. And so will Kapitein
+Van Slyck, I am sure of that. You will find him a
+good man&mdash;a little proud, perhaps, and headstrong,
+like all these soldiers, but an experienced
+officer." Muller nodded sagely.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad to hear that," Peter Gross replied.
+"The work is a little new to me&mdash;I presume you
+know that?"</p>
+
+<p>"So I heard, <i>mynheer</i>. This is your first post as
+resident?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's eyelids quivered a trifle. Muller's
+admission revealed that he had had correspondence
+with Ah Sing, for from no other source could the
+news have leaked out.</p>
+
+<p>"This is my first post," he acknowledged.</p>
+
+<p>"Possibly you have served as <i>controlleur</i>?" Muller
+suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"I am a sailor," Peter Gross replied. "This is
+my first state appointment."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Then my experience may be of value to you,
+<i>mynheer</i>," Muller declared happily. "You understand
+accounts, of course?"</p>
+
+<p>"In a measure. But I am more a sailor than a
+supercargo, <i>mynheer</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure, to be sure," Muller acquiesced
+heartily. "A sailor to the sea and to fighting in the
+bush, and a penman to his books. Leave the
+accounts to me; I will take care of them for you,
+<i>mynheer</i>. You will have plenty to do, keeping the
+tribes in order. It was more than I could do.
+These Dyaks and Malays are good fighters."</p>
+
+<p>"So I have been told," Peter Gross assented
+dryly.</p>
+
+<p>"They told you correctly, <i>mynheer</i>. But they
+will get a stern master now&mdash;we have heard of your
+work at Lombock, <i>mynheer</i>."</p>
+
+<p>The broad compliment was accompanied by an
+even broader smile. Muller was very much pleased
+with himself, and thought he was handling a delicate
+situation in a manner that Van Slyck himself
+could not have improved upon.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's gravity did not relax. "How are
+the natives? Do you have much difficulty?" he
+inquired.</p>
+
+<p>Muller assumed a wobegone expression. "<i>Ach,
+mynheer</i>," he exclaimed dolorously, "those hill Dyaks
+are devils. It is one raid after another; they will
+not let us alone. The rice-fields are swept bare.
+What the Dyaks do not get, the floods and typhoons
+get, and the weevils eat the stubble. We have not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
+had a crop in two years. The rice we gathered for
+taxes from those villages where there was a little
+blessing on the harvest we had to distribute among
+the villages where the crop failed to keep our people
+from starving. That is why we could not ship to
+Batavia. I wish his excellency would come here
+himself and see how things are; he would not be so
+critical about the taxes that are not paid."</p>
+
+<p>"Do the coast Dyaks ever make trouble?" Peter
+Gross asked.</p>
+
+<p>Muller glanced at him shrewdly.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the hill Dyaks who begin it, <i>mynheer</i>.
+Sometimes my coast Dyaks lose their heads when
+their crops are burned and their wives and children
+are stolen, but that is not often. We can control
+them better than we can the hill people, for they are
+nearer us. Of course a man runs amuck occasionally,
+but that you find everywhere."</p>
+
+<p>"I hear there is a half-white woman who wields
+a great influence over them," Peter Gross remarked.
+"Who is she?"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean Koyala, <i>mynheer</i>. A wonderful
+woman with a great influence over her people; they
+would follow her to death. That was a wise act,
+<i>mynheer</i>, to persuade his excellency to cancel the
+offer he made for her person. Bulungan will not
+forget it. You could not have done anything that
+pleases the people more."</p>
+
+<p>"She is very beautiful, I have heard," Peter Gross
+remarked pensively.</p>
+
+<p>Muller glanced at him sharply, and a quick spasm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>
+of jealousy contracted his features. The resident
+might like a pretty face, too, was his instant thought;
+it was an angle he had not bargained for. This
+Mynheer Gross was strong and handsome, young&mdash;altogether
+a dangerous rival. His mellow good
+nature vanished.</p>
+
+<p>"That depends on what you call beauty," he
+said surlily. "She is a witch-woman, and half
+Dyak."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross looked up in pretended surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>mynheer</i>, I am astonished. They told me
+in Batavia&mdash;" He checked himself abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"What did they tell you in Batavia?" Muller
+demanded eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross shook his head. "I should not have
+spoken, <i>mynheer</i>. It was only idle gossip."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me, <i>mynheer</i>," Muller pleaded. "<i>Lieve
+hemel</i>, this is the first time in months that some one
+has told me that Batavia still remembers Muller of
+Bulungan."</p>
+
+<p>"It was only idle rumor," Peter Gross deprecated.
+"I was told you were going to marry&mdash;naturally I
+believed&mdash;but of course as you say it's impossible&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I to marry?" Muller exclaimed. "Who? Koyala?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's silence was all the confirmation the
+<i>controlleur</i> needed. A gratified smile spread over
+his face; he was satisfied now that the resident had
+no intention of being his rival.</p>
+
+<p>"They say that in Batavia?" he asked. "Well,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>
+between you and me, <i>mynheer</i>, I would have to look
+far for a fairer bride."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me congratulate you," Peter Gross began,
+but Muller stayed him.</p>
+
+<p>"No, not yet, <i>mynheer</i>. What I have said is for
+your ears alone. Remember, you know nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Your confidence is safe with me," Peter Gross
+assured him.</p>
+
+<p>Muller suddenly recollected his duties as host.</p>
+
+<p>"Ho, <i>mynheer</i>, you must have some Hollands
+with me," he cried hospitably. "A toast to our good
+fellowship." He clapped his hands and Cho Seng
+appeared in the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"A glass of lemonade or iced tea, if you please,"
+Peter Gross stated.</p>
+
+<p>"You are a teetotaler?" Muller cried in dismay.</p>
+
+<p>"As resident of Bulungan, yes, <i>mynheer</i>. A servant
+of the state cannot be too careful."</p>
+
+<p>Muller laughed. "Lemonade and <i>jenever</i>, Cho
+Seng," he directed. "Well, <i>mynheer</i>, I'll wager you
+are the only resident in all the colonies that will not
+take his glass of Hollands. If it were not for <i>jenever</i>
+many of us could not live in this inferno. Sometimes
+it is well to be able to forget for a short time."</p>
+
+<p>"If one has a burdened conscience," Peter Gross
+conditioned quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Muller started. He intuitively felt the words
+were not idle observation, and he glanced at Peter
+Gross doubtfully. The resident was looking over
+the broad expanse of sea, and presently remarked:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You have a splendid view here, <i>mynheer</i>. I hope
+the outlook from my house is half so good."</p>
+
+<p>Muller roused himself. "That is so, <i>mynheer</i>,"
+he said. "I had almost forgotten; we will have to
+put your house in order at once. It has not been
+occupied for two years, and will need a thorough
+cleaning. Meanwhile you must be my guest."</p>
+
+<p>"I thank you, <i>mynheer</i>," Peter Gross replied
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"You will have an establishment, <i>mynheer</i>?"
+Muller asked curiously. "Have you brought servants?
+If not, I shall be glad to loan you Cho
+Seng."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, I am well provided," Peter Gross
+assured.</p>
+
+<p>Cho Seng padded out on the porch and served
+them. Being a well-trained servant, he scarcely
+glanced at his employer's guest, but Peter Gross
+favored him with a thoughtful stare.</p>
+
+<p>"Your servant has been with you a long time,
+<i>mynheer</i>?" he inquired carelessly.</p>
+
+<p>"A year, <i>mynheer</i>. I got him from Batavia. He
+was recommended by&mdash;a friend." The pause was
+perceptible.</p>
+
+<p>"His face seems familiar," Peter Gross remarked
+in an offhand manner. "But that's probably imagination.
+It is hard to tell these Chinese apart."</p>
+
+<p>Conscious of having said too much again, Muller
+made no reply. They sipped their drinks in silence,
+Peter Gross thinking deeply the while why Ah Sing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>
+should make a former waiter in his <i>rumah makan</i>
+Muller's servant. Presently he said:</p>
+
+<p>"If it is not too much trouble, <i>mynheer</i>, could you
+show me my house?"</p>
+
+<p>"Gladly, <i>mynheer</i>," Muller exclaimed, rising with
+alacrity. "It is only a few steps. We will go at
+once."</p>
+
+<p>For the next half hour Peter Gross and he rambled
+through the dwelling. It was modeled closely
+after the <i>controlleur's</i> own, with a similar green and
+white façade facing the sea. The atmosphere within
+was damp and musty, vermin scurried at their
+approach, but Peter Gross saw that the building
+could be made tenable in a few days. At last they
+came to a sequestered room on the north side, facing
+the hills. An almost level expanse of garden lay
+back of it.</p>
+
+<p>"This was Mynheer de Jonge's own apartment,"
+Muller explained. "Here he did most of his work."
+He sighed heavily. "He was a fine old man. It
+is too bad the good God had to take him away from
+us."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's lips pressed together tightly.</p>
+
+<p>"Mynheer de Jonge was careless of his health, I
+hear," he remarked. "One cannot be too careful
+in Bulungan. Therefore, <i>mynheer</i>, I must ask you
+to get me a crew of men busy at once erecting two
+long houses, after these plans." He took a drawing
+from his pocket and showed it to Muller. The
+<i>controlleur</i> blinked at it with a puzzled frown.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"These buildings will ruin the view, <i>mynheer</i>,"
+he expostulated. "Such long huts&mdash;they are big
+enough for thirty men. What are they for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Protection against the fevers, <i>mynheer</i>," Peter
+Gross said dryly. "The fevers that killed Mynheer
+de Jonge."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>That evening, when Peter Gross had returned to
+the ship, Muller and Van Slyck met to compare
+notes. The captain was still boiling with anger;
+the resident's visit to Fort Wilhelmina had not
+soothed his ruffled temper.</p>
+
+<p>"He told me he brought twenty-five irregulars
+with him for work in the bush," Van Slyck related.
+"They are a separate command, and won't be quartered
+in the fort. If this Yankee thinks he can
+meddle in the military affairs of the residency he
+will find he is greatly mistaken."</p>
+
+<p>"Where will they be quartered?" Muller asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe he will place them in the huts he has
+ordered me to build back of the residency," Muller
+remarked, rubbing his bald pate thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"He told you to build some huts?" Van Slyck
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, some long huts. Big enough for thirty
+men. He said they were to be a protection against
+the fevers."</p>
+
+<p>"The fevers?" Van Slyck exclaimed in amazement.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes, the fevers that killed Mynheer de Jonge,
+he said."</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck's face became livid with passion.
+"Against the fevers that killed de Jonge, eh?" he
+snarled. "The damned Yankee will find there are
+more than fevers in Bulungan."</p>
+
+<p>He flashed a sharp look at Muller.</p>
+
+<p>"When you see Koyala," he said, "send her to
+me."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Koyala's Defiance</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>From his quarters in the residency building,
+the same room where his predecessor, the
+obstinate and perverse de Jonge, had lived
+his brief and inglorious career, Peter Gross looked
+across the rolling expanse to the jungle-crested hills
+of Bulungan.</p>
+
+<p>It was now two weeks since his coming. Many
+changes had been wrought during the fortnight.
+The residency had been cleared of vermin and made
+habitable. Paddy Rouse had been installed as
+secretary and general factotum. The tangle of cane,
+creeper growth, and nipa palm that had grown
+in the park of shapely tamarinds since de Jonge's
+death had been cut away. Two long, low buildings
+had been erected as barracks, and Captain Carver
+had converted the newly created plain into a drill-ground.</p>
+
+<p>They were drilling now, the khaki-clad twenty-five
+that had crossed the Java Sea with Peter Gross.
+Two weeks on shore, supplementing the shipboard
+quizzes on the drill manual, had welded them into
+an efficient command. The smartness and precision
+with which they executed maneuvers compelled
+a grudging admiration from the stolid Dutch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>
+soldiers of Fort Wilhelmina who strolled over daily
+to watch the drills.</p>
+
+<p>"They'll do, they'll do," Peter Gross assured himself
+with satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>He stepped back to his desk and took a document
+from it. It was Muller's first report as <i>controlleur</i>.
+Peter Gross ran his eyes down the column of figures
+and frowned. The accounts balanced and were
+properly drawn up. The report seemed to be in
+great detail. Yet he felt that something was wrong.
+The expenses of administration had been heavy,
+enormously heavy, he noted. Instead of exporting
+rice Bulungan had been forced to import to make
+good crop losses, the report showed.</p>
+
+<p>"Mynheer Muller is a good accountant," he observed
+to himself. "But there are a few items we
+will have to inquire into." He laid the report aside.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened and Paddy Rouse entered. His
+bright red hair, scrubby nose, and freckled face were
+in odd contrast to his surroundings, so typically
+Dutch. Mynheer de Jonge had made this retreat a
+sanctuary, a bit of old Holland transplanted bodily
+without regard to differences of latitude and longitude.
+In the east wall was a blue-tile fireplace.
+On the mantel stood a big tobacco jar of Delftware
+with the familiar windmill pattern. Over it hung
+a long-stemmed Dutch pipe with its highly colored
+porcelain bowl. The pictures on the wall were
+Rembrandtesque, gentlemen in doublet and hose,
+with thin, refined, scholarly faces and the inevitable
+Vandyke beard.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"A lady to see you, sir," Paddy Rouse announced
+with military curtness, saluting. The irrepressible
+Irish broke through in a sly twinkle. "She's a
+beauty, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross controlled the start of surprise he felt.
+He intuitively guessed who his visitor was.</p>
+
+<p>"You may show her in," he announced.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"And, Paddy&mdash;call Captain Carver, please."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>The shock of red hair darted away.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross looked out of the window again. The
+crucial moment, the moment he had looked forward
+to since accepting his appointment, was upon him.
+What should he say to her, this woman of two alien,
+utterly irreconcilable races, this woman so bitterly
+wronged, this woman with a hot shame in her heart
+that would not die? How should he approach her,
+how should he overcome her blind, unreasoning
+hatred against the dominant white race, how persuade
+her to trust him, to give her aid for the reclamation
+of Bulungan?</p>
+
+<p>At the same time he wondered why she had come.
+He had not anticipated this meeting so soon. Was
+there something back of it? As he asked himself the
+question his fingers drummed idly on the desk.</p>
+
+<p>While he was meditating he became suddenly
+aware of another presence in the room. Turning,
+he found himself looking into the eyes of a woman&mdash;the
+woman of his thoughts. She stood beside him,
+silent, possessed. There was a dagger in the snake<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>skin
+girdle she wore about her waist&mdash;a single thrust
+and she could have killed him. He looked at her
+steadily. Her glance was equally steady. He rose
+slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"You are the Juffrouw Koyala," he announced
+simply. "Good morning, <i>juffrouw</i>." He bowed.</p>
+
+<p>There was an instant's hesitation&mdash;or was it only
+his imagination, Peter Gross asked himself&mdash;then
+her form relaxed a trifle. So slight was the movement
+that he would not have been sure had not
+every muscle of her perfect body yielded to it with a
+supple, rhythmic grace.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you be seated?" he remarked conventionally,
+and placed a chair for her. Not until then
+did she speak.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not necessary, <i>mynheer</i>. I have only a few
+words to say."</p>
+
+<p>The cold austerity of her voice chilled Peter Gross.
+Yet her tones were marvelously sweet&mdash;like silver
+bells, he thought. He bowed and waited expectantly.
+In a moment's interlude he took stock of
+her.</p>
+
+<p>She was dressed in the native fashion, sarong and
+kabaya, both of purest white. The kabaya reached
+to midway between the knees and ankles. Her limbs
+were bare, except for doe-skin sandals. The girdle
+about her waist was made from the skins of spotted
+pit vipers. The handle of the dagger it held was
+studded with gems, rubies, turquoises, and emeralds.
+A huge ruby, mounted on a pin, caught the
+kabaya above her breasts; outside of this she wore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>
+no jewelry. Her lustrous black hair hung loosely
+over her shoulders. Altogether a creature of the
+jungle, she looked at him with a glance in which
+defiance was but thinly concealed.</p>
+
+<p>"What did you wish to see me about?" Peter
+Gross asked when he saw that she was awaiting his
+permission to speak.</p>
+
+<p>Something like a spark shot from the glowing
+coals of her eyes. The tragic intensity of those
+eyes stirred anew the feeling of pity in the resident's
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>"I am told, <i>mynheer</i>, that the governor withdrew
+his offer for my person at your request," she
+said coldly.</p>
+
+<p>The statement was a question, Peter Gross felt,
+though put in the form of a declaration. He
+scrutinized her face sharply, striving to divine her
+object.</p>
+
+<p>"That is true, <i>juffrouw</i>," he acknowledged.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you do this, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross did not answer at once. The direct
+question astonished him.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you ask, <i>juffrouw</i>?" he parried.</p>
+
+<p>Her finely chiseled head tilted back. Very royal
+she looked, very queenly, a Diana of the tropic
+jungle.</p>
+
+<p>"Because Koyala Bintang Burung asks no favors
+from you, Mynheer Gross. Nor from any white
+man."</p>
+
+<p>It was a declaration of war. Peter Gross realized
+it, and his face saddened. He had expected oppo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>sition
+but not open defiance. He wondered what
+lay back of it. The Dyak blood in her, always
+treacherous, never acting without a purpose, was
+not frank without reason, he assured himself.</p>
+
+<p>"I had no intention of doing you a favor, <i>juffrouw</i>,"
+he announced quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"What was your object, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>The words were hardly out of her mouth before
+she regretted them. The quick flash of her teeth
+as she bit her lips revealed the slip. Peter Gross
+instantly divined the reason&mdash;her hostility was so
+implacable that she would not even parley with him.</p>
+
+<p>"To do you justice, <i>juffrouw</i>," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>The words were like oil on flame. Her whole
+figure stiffened rigidly. The smoldering light in
+her eyes flashed into fire. The dusk in her face
+deepened to night. In a stifled voice, bitter with
+scorn, she cried:</p>
+
+<p>"I want none of your justice, <i>mynheer</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I suppose not," Peter Gross assented heavily.
+His head sagged and he stared moodily into the
+fireplace. Koyala looked at him questioningly for
+a moment, then turned swiftly and glided toward
+the door. A word from Peter Gross interrupted her.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Juffrouw!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>She turned slowly. The cold disdain her face
+expressed was magnificent.</p>
+
+<p>"What shall I do?" he entreated. His mild,
+gray eyes were fixed on her flaming orbs pleadingly.
+Her lips curled in scornful contempt.</p>
+
+<p>"That is for you to decide, <i>mynheer</i>," she replied.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Then I cross from the slate all that has been
+charged against you, <i>juffrouw</i>. You are free to
+come and go as you wish."</p>
+
+<p>A flash of anger crossed Koyala's face.</p>
+
+<p>"Your pardon is neither asked nor desired, <i>mynheer</i>,"
+she retorted.</p>
+
+<p>"I must do my duty as I see it," Peter Gross replied.
+"All that I ask of you, <i>juffrouw</i>, is that you
+do not use your influence with the natives to hinder
+or oppose the plans I have for their betterment.
+May I have your pledge for that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I make no promises and give no pledges, <i>mynheer</i>,"
+Koyala announced coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon&mdash;I should not have asked it of
+you. All I ask is a chance to work out my plans
+without hindrance from those whose welfare I am
+seeking."</p>
+
+<p>Koyala's lips curled derisively. "You can promote
+our welfare best by going back to Java, <i>mynheer</i>,"
+she retorted.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross looked at her sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Juffrouw</i>," he said, "you are speaking words that
+you do not know the meaning of. Leave Bulungan?
+What would happen then? The Chinese would
+come down on you from the north, the Bugis from
+the east, and the Bajaus from every corner of the
+sea. Your coasts would be harried, your people
+would be driven out of their towns to the jungles,
+trade would cease, the rice harvests would fail,
+starvation would come upon you. Your children
+would be torn from you to be sold in the slave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>-market.
+Your women would be stolen. You are a
+woman, <i>juffrouw</i>, a woman of education and understanding;
+you know what the white man saves you
+from."</p>
+
+<p>"And what have you whites given us in return
+for your protection?" she cried fiercely. "Your
+law, which is the right of a white man to cheat and
+rob the ignorant Dyak under the name of trade.
+Your garrisons in our city, which mean taking away
+our weapons so that our young men become soft in
+muscle and short in breath and can no longer make
+war like their fathers did. Your religion, which
+you force on us with a sword and do not believe
+yourself. Your morals, which have corrupted the
+former sanctity of our homes and have wrought an
+infamy unspeakable. Gin, to make our men stagger
+like fools; opium, to debauch us all! These are the
+white man's gifts to the Dyaks of Borneo. I would
+rather see my people free, with only their bows and
+arrows and sumpitans, fighting a losing fight in their
+jungles against the Malays and the Chinese slave-hunters,
+than be ruined by arrach and gin and opium
+like they are now."</p>
+
+<p>She was writhing in her passion. Her bosom rose
+and fell tumultuously, and her fingers opened and
+closed like the claws of an animal. In this mood she
+was a veritable tigress, Peter Gross thought.</p>
+
+<p>"All that you have said is the truth," he admitted.
+He looked very weary, his shoulders were
+bent, and he stared gloomily into the hearth. Koyala
+stared at him with a fierce intensity, half doubtful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>
+whether he was mocking her. But his dejection
+was too patent to be pretense.</p>
+
+<p>"If you believe that, why are you here?" she
+demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I believe that Bulungan needs me to
+correct these evils, <i>juffrouw</i>," he replied gently.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala laughed shrilly, contemptuously. Peter
+Gross's form straightened and the thin, firm lines
+of his lips tightened. He lifted a restraining hand.</p>
+
+<p>"May I speak for a few moments, <i>juffrouw</i>?" he
+asked. "I want to tell you what I am planning to do
+for Bulungan. I shall put an end to the gin and
+opium trade. I shall drive the slave-hunters and
+the pirates from these seas, and the head-hunters
+from their <i>babas</i> (jungles). I shall make Bulungan
+so peaceful that the rice-grower can plough, and
+sow, and harvest with never a backward look to see
+if an enemy is near him. I shall take the young men
+of Bulungan and train them in the art of war, that
+they may learn how to keep peace within their borders
+and the enemy without. I shall readjust the
+taxes so that the rich will pay their just share as well
+as the poor. I shall bring in honest tax-collectors
+who will account for the last grain of rice they
+receive. Before I shall finish my work the <i>Gustis</i>
+(Princes) will break their krisses and the bushmen
+their sumpitans; hill Dyak and coast Dyak will sit
+under the same tapang tree and take sirih and betel
+from the same box, and the Kapala Kampong shall
+say to the people of his village&mdash;go to the groves and
+harvest the cocoanut, a tenth for me and a tenth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>
+for the state, and the balance for you and your
+children."</p>
+
+<p>Koyala looked at him searchingly. His tremendous
+earnestness seemed to impress her.</p>
+
+<p>"You have taken a big task upon yourself, <i>mynheer</i>,"
+she observed.</p>
+
+<p>"I will do all this, <i>juffrouw</i>, if you will help me,"
+Peter Gross affirmed solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>Scornful defiance leaped again into Koyala's eyes
+and she drew back proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"I, <i>mynheer</i>? I am a Dyak of Bulungan," she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"You are half a daughter of my people," Peter
+Gross corrected. "You have had the training of a
+white woman. Whether you are friend or foe, you
+shall always be a white woman to me, <i>juffrouw</i>."</p>
+
+<p>A film came across Koyala's eyes. She started to
+reply, checked herself, and then spoke, lashing the
+words out between set teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"Promise upon promise, lie upon lie, that has
+been the way with you whites. I hate you all, I
+stand by my people."</p>
+
+<p>Swift as the bird whose name she bore, she flashed
+through the door. Peter Gross took a half-step
+forward to restrain her, stopped, and walked slowly
+back to his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"She will come back," he murmured to himself;
+"she will come back. I have sown the seed, and it
+has sunk in fertile ground."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>In the banyan grove Koyala, breathing rapidly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>
+because of her swift flight, came upon Kapitein
+Van Slyck. The captain rose eagerly as she darted
+through the cane.</p>
+
+<p>"What did he say?" he asked. "Did he try to
+make love to you?"</p>
+
+<p>Koyala turned on him furiously. "You are a
+fool, we are all fools!" she exclaimed. "He is more
+than a match for all of us. I will see you later, when
+I can think; not now." She left the clearing.</p>
+
+<p>Van Slyck stalked moodily back to the fort. At
+the edge of the grove he slashed viciously at a pale
+anemone.</p>
+
+<p>"Damn these women, you never can trust them,"
+he snarled.</p>
+
+<p>When the only sounds audible in the clearing were
+the chirping of the crickets and the fluting of the
+birds, a thin, yellow face with watery eyes peered
+cautiously through the cane. Seeing the coast
+clear, Cho Seng padded decorously homeward to
+the <i>controlleur's</i> house, stepping carefully in the
+center of the path where no snakes could lie concealed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Council</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>The council of the chiefs was assembling.
+From every part of Bulungan residency
+they came, the Rajahs and the Gustis, the
+Datu Bandars or governors of the Malay villages,
+and the Orang Kayas and Kapala Kampongs, the
+Dyak village heads. Their coming was in answer
+to the call of Peter Gross, resident, for messengers
+had been sent to every part of the province to announce
+that a great <i>bitchara</i> (talk) was to be held in
+Bulungan town.</p>
+
+<p>They came in various ways. The Malay Datu
+Bandars of the coast towns, where the Malays were
+largely in the ascendent, voyaged in royal sailing
+proas, some of which were covered with canopies
+of silk. Each had twenty men or more, armed to
+the teeth, in his cortčge. The inland Rajahs traveled
+in even greater state. Relays of slaves carried
+them in sedan chairs, and fifty gleaming krisses
+marched before and fifty after. The humbler Orang
+Kayas and Kapala Kampongs came on foot, with not
+more than ten attendants in their trains, for a village
+head, regardless of the number of buffaloes in
+his herd, must not aspire to the same state as a
+Rajah, or even a Gusti. The Rajah Wobanguli<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>
+received each arrival with a stately dignity befitting
+the ruler of the largest town in the residency, and
+assigned him and his people the necessary number of
+houses to shelter them.</p>
+
+<p>But these were not the only strangers in Bulungan.
+From all the country round, and from every village
+along the coast, Dyaks, Malays, Chinese, and
+Bugis, and the Bajau sea-wanderers, streamed into
+the town. The usually commodious market-place
+seemed to shrink and dwindle as the crowd of
+traders expanded, and the raucous cries of the venders
+rang about the street to a late hour at night.</p>
+
+<p>In every second house a cock-fight was in progress.
+Sweating, steaming bodies crushed each other in
+the narrow streets and threatened ruin to the
+thatched houses. Malays scowled at Dyaks, and
+Dyaks glared vindictively at Malays. Shrewd,
+bland Chinese intermingled with the crowd and
+raked in the silver and copper coins that seemed to
+flow toward them by a magnetic attraction. Fierce,
+piratical Bugis cast amorous glances at the Dyak
+belles who, although they shrank timidly into their
+fathers' huts, were not altogether displeased at
+having their charms noticed.</p>
+
+<p>There was hardly a moment without its bickering
+and fierce words, and there were frequent brawls
+when women fled shrieking, for hill Dyak and coast
+Dyak and Malay and Bugi could not meet at such
+close quarters without the feuds of untold generations
+breaking out.</p>
+
+<p>Foremost in the minds and on the lips of every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>
+individual in that reeking press of humanity was
+the question: "What will the <i>orang blanda</i> (white
+man) want?" Speculation ran riot, rumor winged
+upon rumor, and no tale was too fantastical to lack
+ready repetition and credulous listeners. <i>Mynheer</i>
+would exact heavy penalties for every act of piracy
+and killing traced back to Bulungan, so the stories
+ran; <i>mynheer</i> would confiscate all the next rice
+crop; <i>mynheer</i> would establish great plantations and
+every village would be required to furnish its quota
+of forced labor; <i>mynheer</i> would demand the three
+handsomest youths from each village as hostages
+for future good behavior. Thus long before the
+council assembled, the tide was setting against Peter
+Gross.</p>
+
+<p>Bulungan was ripe and ready for revolt. It
+chafed under the fetters of a white man's administration,
+lightly as those fetters sat. Wildest of
+Borneo's residencies, it was the last refuge of the
+adventurous spirits of the Malay archipelago who
+found life in the established provinces of Java,
+Sumatra, and Celebes all too tame.</p>
+
+<p>They had tasted freedom for two years under
+Muller's innocuous administration and did not intend
+to permit the old order to be changed. Diverse as
+their opinions on other matters might be, bitter
+as their feuds might be, hill Dyak and coast Dyak,
+Malay, Chinese, Bugi, and Bajau were united on this
+point. So for the first time in Bulungan's history
+a feeling of unanimity pervaded a conclave of such
+mongrel elements as were now gathered in old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>
+"Rotterdam" town. This feeling was magnified
+by a report&mdash;originating, no one knew where, and
+spreading like wildfire&mdash;that the great Datu, the
+chief of all the pirates of the island seas, the mysterious
+and silent head of the great confederation,
+was in Bulungan and would advise the chiefs how to
+answer their new white governor.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross was not wholly ignorant of public
+sentiment in the town. One of Captain Carver's
+first acts on coming to Bulungan was to establish
+the nucleus of a secret service to keep him informed
+on public sentiment among the natives. A Dyak
+lad named Inchi, whom Carver had first hired to
+help with the coarsest camp work, and who had
+formed an immediate attachment for his soldierly
+white <i>baas</i>, was the first recruit in this service and
+brought in daily reports.</p>
+
+<p>"Inchi tells me that the chiefs have decided they
+will pay no more tax to the government," Carver
+announced to Peter Gross on the morning of the
+council. The resident and he were on the drill-ground
+where they could talk undisturbed. Peter
+Gross's lips tightened.</p>
+
+<p>"I expected opposition," he replied non-committally.</p>
+
+<p>"Too bad we haven't the <i>Prins Lodewyk</i> here,"
+Carver remarked. "A few shells around their ears
+might bring them to their senses."</p>
+
+<p>"We don't need such an extreme measure yet,"
+Peter Gross deprecated gently.</p>
+
+<p>"I hardly know whether it's safe for us to venture<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>
+into the town," Carver observed. "Couldn't you
+arrange to have the meeting here, away from all that
+mob? There must be thirty thousand people down
+below."</p>
+
+<p>"I would rather meet them on their own ground."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a big risk. If there should be an attack, we
+couldn't hold them."</p>
+
+<p>"Thirty thousand against twenty-five would be
+rather long odds," Peter Gross assented, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"You're going to use the fort garrison, too, aren't
+you?" Carver asked quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall take just two people with me," Peter
+Gross announced.</p>
+
+<p>"My God, Mr. Gross! You'll never get back!"
+Carver's face was tense with anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>"Three people will be just as effective as twenty-six,
+captain," Peter Gross declared mildly. "The
+victory we must gain to-day is a moral victory&mdash;we
+must show the natives that we are not afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"But they're bound to break loose. A show of
+military force would restrain them&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I think it would be more a provocation than a
+restraint, captain. They would see our helplessness.
+If I go alone they will reason that we are
+stronger than they think we are. Our confidence
+will beget uncertainty among them."</p>
+
+<p>Carver had long since learned the futility of trying
+to dissuade his chief from a course once adopted.
+He merely remarked:</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I'll go?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, captain&mdash;" Peter Gross's face ex<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>pressed
+sincere regret. "Nothing would please me
+more than to have you with me, but I can't spare
+you here."</p>
+
+<p>Carver realized that himself. He swallowed his
+disappointment.</p>
+
+<p>"Whom were you planning on taking?" he asked
+abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"Inchi&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Carver nodded approval.</p>
+
+<p>&mdash;"And Paddy Rouse."</p>
+
+<p>"Paddy?" the captain exclaimed. "Of what
+use&mdash;I beg your pardon, Mr. Gross."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross smiled. "It does seem a peculiar
+mission to take that youngster on," he said. "But
+Paddy's going to be rarely useful to me to-day,
+useful in a way every man couldn't be. These
+natives have a superstitious reverence for red
+hair."</p>
+
+<p>An understanding smile broke upon Carver's
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. A mighty good idea. Bluff and
+superstition are two almighty-powerful weapons
+against savages."</p>
+
+<p>"I also hope that we shall have another ally
+there," Peter Gross said.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Juffrouw Koyala."</p>
+
+<p>Carver frowned. "Mr. Gross," he said, "I don't
+trust that woman. She's Dyak, and that's the most
+treacherous breed that was ever spawned. We've
+got to look out for her. She's an actress, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>
+mighty clever in playing her little part, but she
+can't hide the hate in her heart. She'll keep us on
+the string and pretend she's won over, but the first
+chance she gets to strike, she'll do it. I've met that
+kind of woman in the Philippines."</p>
+
+<p>"I think you are wholly mistaken," Peter Gross
+replied decisively.</p>
+
+<p>Carver glanced at him quickly, searchingly.
+"She's a damn pretty woman," he remarked
+musingly, and shot another quick glance at the
+resident.</p>
+
+<p>"That has nothing to do with the matter," Peter
+Gross replied sternly.</p>
+
+<p>Abruptly dropping the topic, Carver asked:</p>
+
+<p>"At what hour does the council meet?"</p>
+
+<p>"Four o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll be back by sundown?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid not. I shall probably spend the
+night with Wobanguli."</p>
+
+<p>Carver groaned. "Send Inchi if things look as
+though they were going wrong," he said. "Might
+I suggest that you let him go to the village right
+away, and keep away from you altogether?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you'll instruct him so, please. In case there
+is trouble, throw your men into the fort." He took
+a package of papers from his pocket and gave them
+to Carver. "Here are some documents which I
+want you to take care of for me. They are all
+addressed. One of them is for you; it appoints
+you military commandant of Bulungan in case something
+should happen to me down below. Don't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>
+use it otherwise. If Van Slyck should make a fuss
+you will know how to handle him."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand," Carver replied shortly, and
+pocketed the envelope. He strode back to his
+shelter with a heavy heart.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Peter Gross's Pledge</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>The afternoon sun was pouring its full strength
+on the coral highway to Bulungan when
+Peter Gross rode to the council. He was
+mounted on a thoroughbred that he had brought with
+him from Java, and was in full-dress uniform. On his
+breast gleamed several decorations awarded him by
+Governor-General Van Schouten. It was the first
+time he had used them, and it was not vanity that
+inspired him to pin them on his coat. He realized
+the importance of employing every artifice to impress
+the native mind favorably toward its new ruler.
+Paddy Rouse was in field-service uniform, and rode a
+chestnut borrowed from the military stables.</p>
+
+<p>The terrific din created by several thousand gongs
+of brass, copper, and wood, beaten in every part of
+Bulungan to testify to the holiday, was plainly
+audible as they cantered along the road.</p>
+
+<p>"Sounds like the Fourth of July," Paddy remarked
+cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>When they neared the village two Gustis, youthful
+Dyak chiefs with reputations yet to make, charged
+toward them with bared krisses. As the hoofs of
+their jet-black steeds thundered toward Peter
+Gross, Paddy gave his horse the spur and shot it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>
+half a length ahead of the resident. His hand was
+on the butt of his pistol when a low-voiced warning
+from his chief restrained him. Just as it seemed
+that they would be ridden down the horsemen
+parted and flashed by with krisses lifted to salute.
+They wheeled instantly and fell in behind the resident.</p>
+
+<p>"Whew," Paddy whistled softly. "I thought
+they meant business."</p>
+
+<p>"It was meant to do us honor," Peter Gross explained.</p>
+
+<p>More native princes spurred from the town to
+join the procession. In each instance the demonstration
+the same. Paddy noted that every
+one was mounted on a black horse and carried a
+kris whose handle was of either gold or ivory, and
+was studded with gems. None used saddles, but
+each horse was caparisoned with a gayly colored
+saddle-cloth embroidered with gold thread. The
+bridles were of many-colored cords and the bits of
+silver. He pointed out these things to Peter Gross
+in an undertone.</p>
+
+<p>"That shows that they are all of princely rank,"
+Peter Gross informed him.</p>
+
+<p>The din from the gongs became almost deafening
+as they entered the outskirts of the town. The
+crowd thickened also, and it became increasingly
+difficult to break through the press. Paddy Rouse's
+eyes swam as he looked into the sea of black and
+brown faces grimacing and contorting. The scene
+was a riot of color; every native was dressed in his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>
+holiday best, which meant garments of the gaudiest
+and brightest dyes that his means enabled him to
+procure. Paddy noticed a patriarch in a pea-green
+velvet jacket, blue and orange chawat, or waist-cloth,
+and red, yellow, and blue kerchief head-dress.
+Most of the kerchief head-dresses, worn
+turban-fashion, were in three colors, blue predominating,
+he observed.</p>
+
+<p>"Big reception they're giving us," Paddy remarked.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's reply was noncommittal. He felt
+a little of the forces that were at work beneath the
+surface, and realized how quickly this childishly
+curious, childishly happy mob could be converted
+into a bedlam of savagery.</p>
+
+<p>As they neared the huge twin Hindu deities,
+carved in stone, that formed the gate-posts of
+Wobanguli's palace grounds and the council-hall
+enclosure, the crowd massed so thickly that it was
+impossible for them to proceed. Paddy drove his
+horse into the press and split an aisle by a vicious
+display of hoofs and the liberal use of his quirt-stock.
+The crowd gave way sullenly, those behind
+refusing to give way for those in front. Paddy
+leaned sidewise in his saddle as they passed between
+the scowling gods.</p>
+
+<p>"Into the lion's den," he whispered to Peter Gross.
+His eye was sparkling; roughing the natives had
+whetted his appetite for action.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross sprang from his horse lightly&mdash;he
+had learned to ride before he went to sea&mdash;and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>
+entered the dimly lit hall. Rouse remained at the
+entrance and began looking about for Inchi. The
+little Malay was rubbing down a horse, but gave
+no sign of recognition when Rouse's glance met his.
+As Paddy looked away, his face, too, sobered.
+Only his eyes were more keenly alert.</p>
+
+<p>As Peter Gross became accustomed to the semi-darkness,
+he distinguished about forty chiefs and
+princes seated along the side walls of the building.
+There were two Europeans in the room in one corner.
+Peter Gross guessed their identity before he
+could distinguish their faces; they were Muller
+and Van Slyck.</p>
+
+<p>At the farther end of the hall was a platform.
+Two chairs of European make had been placed upon
+it. Wobanguli occupied one, the other was vacant.
+The hall was thick with smoke, for those who were
+not chewing betel were laboring on big Dutch pipes,
+introduced by their white rulers.</p>
+
+<p>Silence greeted Peter Gross as he slowly walked
+the length of the hall, and none rose to do him the
+customary honor. Instead of mounting the platform
+he remained standing at its base and looked
+sternly into the face of the Rajah. In a voice suspiciously
+sweet he asked:</p>
+
+<p>"Is it so long since a son of the white father has
+come to Bulungan that you have forgotten how he
+must be received, O Rajah?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's pregnant pause, a moment
+when the royal mind did some quick thinking.
+Then Wobanguli rose and said:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"We have heard the call and we are here, resident."</p>
+
+<p>The moment Wobanguli rose a quick rustle and
+the clicking of steel apprised Peter Gross that
+the others also had risen. Although he knew it
+was not in his honor&mdash;custom forbade lesser chiefs
+from sitting while the Rajah stood&mdash;he accepted
+it as such. He did not look around until he had
+mounted the platform. Then he gazed at each
+man individually. Something in his silent scrutiny
+sent a cold chill into the hearts of more than one of
+the chiefs who had endured it, but most of them
+returned it boldly and defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>Not until each of the forty had felt the power of
+his mesmeric glance did Peter Gross speak.</p>
+
+<p>"You may tell the council the purpose of this
+meting, Rajah," he announced, turning to Wobanguli,
+and then seated himself in the vacant chair.</p>
+
+<p>As Wobanguli came forward, Peter Gross had an
+opportunity to measure his man. The Rajah was
+tall, quite tall for a Bornean, powerfully built, but a
+trifle stoop-shouldered. His features were pronouncedly
+Malay rather than Dyak; there was a
+furtive look in his half-shut eyes that suggested
+craft and cunning, and his ever-ready smile was too
+suavely pleasant to deceive the resident.</p>
+
+<p>"A panther; he will be hard to tame," was Peter
+Gross's unspoken thought.</p>
+
+<p>Wobanguli began speaking in sonorous tones,
+using Malay-Dyak dialect, the <i>lingua franca</i> of the
+residency.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Rajahs, Custis, Datus, and Kapalas, to-day hath
+Allah and the Hanu Token and the great god
+Djath given a new ruler to Bulungan."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's brow contracted thoughtfully. It
+was apparent from Wobanguli's exordium that he
+was striving to please the adherents of every faith
+represented among the natives present. The Rajah
+continued:</p>
+
+<p>"In the days when the great fire mountains
+poured their rivers of flame into the boiling ocean
+our forefathers, led by the great god Djath, came to
+Borneo. They built villages and begat children.
+The fire mountains belched flame and molten rock,
+the great floods came to drown the mountains, the
+earth shook, and whole jungles were swallowed up;
+but ever our fathers clung to the island they had
+come to possess. Then Djath said: 'This is a
+strong people. I shall make it my own, my chosen
+people, and give to them and to their children's
+children forever the land of Borneo.'</p>
+
+<p>"From the seed of our fathers sprang many
+tribes. New nations came from over the sea and
+found habitation with us, and we called them
+'brother.' Last of all came the white man. He sold
+us guns, and knives, and metals, and fine horses,
+and the drink that Allah says we must not touch,
+and opium. By and bye, when he was strong and
+we were weak, he said: 'I will give you a resident
+who shall be a father unto you. There will be no
+more killings, but every man shall have plenty of
+gongs and brass rings for his wives, and many bolts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>
+of brilliantly colored cloth, and much tobacco.'
+So we let the white man give us a ruler."</p>
+
+<p>There was an ominous stirring among the assembled
+chiefs. Peter Gross's face maintained an
+inscrutable calm, but he was thinking rapidly.
+Wobanguli's speech had all the elements of nitroglycerine,
+he realized.</p>
+
+<p>"It is now many moons since the first white
+father came to dwell with us," Wobanguli continued.
+"Three times has the great fire mountain belched
+flame and smoke to show she was angry with us, and
+three times have we given of our gifts to appease
+the spirits. We are poor. Our women hide their
+nakedness with the leaves of palm-trees. Our
+tribesmen carve their kris-handles from the branches
+of the ironwood-tree."</p>
+
+<p>He paused. The air was electric. Another word,
+a single passionate plea, would unsheath forty
+krisses, Peter Gross perceived. Wobanguli was
+looking at him, savage exultation leering in his
+eyes, but Peter Gross's face did not change a muscle,
+and he waited with an air of polite attention. Wobanguli
+faced the assembly again:</p>
+
+<p>"Our elder brother from over the sea, who was
+sent to us by the little father at Batavia, will tell us
+to-day how he will redeem the promises made to us,"
+he announced. "I have spoken."</p>
+
+<p>So abrupt was the climax that Peter Gross
+scarcely realized the Rajah had concluded until he
+was back in his chair. There was a moment's
+dramatic hush. Conscious that Wobanguli had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>
+brought him to the very edge of a precipice as a
+test, conscious, too, that the Rajah was disappointed
+because his intended victim had failed to reveal the
+weakness he had expected to find, Peter Gross rose
+slowly and impressively to meet the glances of the
+forty chiefs now centered so hostilely upon him.</p>
+
+<p>"Princes of our residency of Bulungan"&mdash;he
+began; there was a stir in the crowd; he was using
+the native tongue, the same dialect Wobanguli had
+used&mdash;"the Rajah Wobanguli has told you the purpose
+of this meeting. He has told you of the promises
+made by those who were resident here before
+me. He has reminded you that these promises
+have not been fulfilled. But he has not told you
+why they were not fulfilled. I am here to-day to
+tell you the reason."</p>
+
+<p>A low, whistling sound, the simultaneous sharp
+intake of breath through the nostrils of forty men,
+filled the room. Pipes and betel and sirih were laid
+aside. Rajahs, governors, and princes craned their
+heads and looked ominously over the shafts of their
+spears at their resident.</p>
+
+<p>"There are in this land three peoples, or perhaps
+four," Peter Gross said. "Only two of these are
+the real owners of Borneo, the people whose fathers
+settled this island in the early days, as your Rajah
+has told you. They are the hill Dyaks and the
+sea Dyaks, who are one people though two nations.
+The Malays are outlanders. The Chinese are outlanders.
+They have the same right to live here
+that the white man has&mdash;no more, no less. That<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>
+right comes from the increase in riches they bring
+and the trade they bring."</p>
+
+<p>A hoarse murmur arose. The Malay Datus'
+scowls were blacker. The Dyaks looked sullenly
+at their arch-enemies, the brown immigrants from
+Malacca.</p>
+
+<p>"Long before the first white man came here, the
+two nations of Dyaks&mdash;the Dyaks of the sea and
+the Dyaks of the hills&mdash;were at war with each other.
+The skulls of the people of each nation decorated
+the lodge-poles of their enemies. The Dyaks of
+the sea made treaties with the Bajaus, the Malays,
+the Bugis, and the Chinese sea-rovers. Together
+these people have driven the Dyaks of the hills far
+inland, almost to the crest of the great fire mountains.
+But the price they pay is the surrender of their
+strong men to row the proas of their masters, the
+pirates. The spring rains come, but the rice is left
+unsowed, for a fair crop attracts the spoilers, and
+only the poor are left in peace. Poverty has come
+upon your Dyaks. Your kris-handles are of wood,
+while those of your masters are of gold and jewels."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross paused. The Dyaks were glaring
+at the Malays, the Malays looked as fiercely back.
+Several chiefs were fingering their kris-handles.
+Muller was watching the tribesmen in anxious
+bewilderment; Van Slyck hid in the shadows.</p>
+
+<p>"Forget your feuds and listen to me," Peter Gross
+thundered in a voice of authority that focused
+instant attention upon him. "Let me tell you what
+I have come to do for Bulungan."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He turned a group of short, lithely built men
+armed with spears.</p>
+
+<p>"To you, hill Dyaks, I bring peace and an end of
+all raiding. No more shall the coast-rovers cross
+your borders. Your women will be safe while you
+hunt dammar gum and resin in the forests; the
+man who steals a woman against her will shall hang.
+I, your resident, have spoken."</p>
+
+<p>He turned toward the delegation of coast natives.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>To the scowling Malays he said:</p>
+
+<p>"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. The <i>balas</i> money which you now pay the
+pirates will be counted with your profits, for I will
+drive the pirates from these seas.</p>
+
+<p>"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. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>
+swift and terrible will be my vengeance on him who
+breaks the law."</p>
+
+<p>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:</p>
+
+<p>"I am now ready to hear your grievances, princes
+of the residency. You may speak one by one in the
+order of your rank."</p>
+
+<p>Calmly turning his back on them, he walked back
+to his chair.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>A powerful Malay suddenly leaped to his feet,
+and glared defiantly at Peter Gross.</p>
+
+<p>"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 people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>
+are 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?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ai-yai-yai-yai," was the angry murmur that
+filled the hall in a rising assent.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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, my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>
+brothers, the thief who takes and gives or the thief
+who takes all and gives nothing?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>A young Dyak chief suddenly sprang to the middle
+of the floor. His trappings showed that he was
+of Gusti rank.</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard the words of the white chief and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>
+they 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!"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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 thick<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>
+and 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&mdash;a
+name only. Choose ye, what shall it be?"</p>
+
+<p>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:</p>
+
+<p>"Kill him, Dyaks of Bulungan. He speaks with
+two tongues to make you slaves on the plantations."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"One move and I shoot," Peter Gross cried.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;then the tumult stilled as
+suddenly as though every man in the hall had been
+simultaneously stricken with paralysis.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;it was Koyala.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;Koyala was speaking. In the morgue-like
+silence her silvery voice rang with startling
+clearness.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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 Hanu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>
+Token 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."</p>
+
+<p>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:</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Paddy, hatless and disheveled,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>
+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:</p>
+
+<p>"See, the servant with the sacred flame."</p>
+
+<p>"The sacred flame," Dyaks and Malays both
+muttered awesomely, as they crowded back from
+the platform.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you pledge, brother?" the Malay demanded
+again.</p>
+
+<p>"I pledge," Peter Gross replied firmly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Poisoned Arrow</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>"And so," Peter Gross concluded, "I pledged
+my life that we'd put things to rights in
+Bulungan."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Carver did not answer. It was dim
+twilight of the evening following the council meeting&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>"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 old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>
+man 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."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I get a light, sir?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think of the situation?" he asked
+pointedly.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"I was trying to decide whether Koyala is an
+asset or a liability," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross, too, listened for a moment to the
+chirping of the crickets before he answered.</p>
+
+<p>"She saved my life," he said simply.</p>
+
+<p>"She did," Captain Carver acknowledged. "I'm
+wondering why."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross stared into the evening silence.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;all
+whites&mdash;but she has the welfare of her people at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>
+heart. 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."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"There have been some notable half-breed patriots,"
+Peter Gross remarked with a half-smile that
+the darkness curtained.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"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...."</p>
+
+<p>His voice trailed into silence and he stared across<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>
+the fields toward the jungle-crowned hills silhouetted
+against the brilliantly starlit sky.</p>
+
+<p>"Sachsen is too old a man to be caught napping,"
+Carver observed.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;at least induced
+her to give us a chance to show what we can do."</p>
+
+<p>"You're sure it was Ah Sing's voice you heard?"</p>
+
+<p>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:</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"If he's here we've got the whole damn' wasp's
+nest around our ears," Carver growled. "I wish
+we had the <i>Prins</i> here."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"And we're here with twenty-five men," Carver
+said bitterly. "It would be damned farcical if it
+wasn't so serious."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"We are not here to use a mailed fist," Peter
+Gross remonstrated mildly.</p>
+
+<p>"I understand. All the same&mdash;" 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.</p>
+
+<p>"When do you begin the census?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"You're going to trust it to Muller?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;if he proves disloyal he
+will convict himself."</p>
+
+<p>"How about Van Slyck?"</p>
+
+<p>"He shall have his chance, too."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't give the other man all the cards and
+win."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll deal fairly. The odds aren't quite so big
+as you think&mdash;we'll have Koyala and the hill Dyaks
+with us."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"H'mm. Jahi comes to-morrow afternoon, you
+say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I shall appoint him Rajah over all the hill
+people."</p>
+
+<p>Carver picked up his cigar and puffed in silence
+for several moments.</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;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."</p>
+
+<p>"In the heart of every man there's something
+that responds to simple justice and fair dealing&mdash;What's
+that?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Poisoned!" he exclaimed. He gave it to the
+resident, remarking ironically:</p>
+
+<p>"With the compliments of the Argus Pheasant,
+Mr. Gross."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">A Summons to Sadong</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>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:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear Captain</span>:</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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
+of <i>controlleurs</i>, whose rulings appeared unjust to me, and in
+both cases my decision was in favor of the poorer litigant. This
+has displeased some of the <i>orang kayas</i>, or rich men, of the villages,
+but it has strengthened me with the tribesmen, I believe.</p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He described the council and the result, and continued:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>I am now having a census taken of each district in the residency.
+I have made the <i>controlleur</i> in 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&mdash;some one has
+been stirring them up&mdash;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....</p>
+
+<p>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....</p>
+
+<p>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 the <i>Prins Lodewyk</i>, 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.</p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>As Peter Gross was affixing the required stamp, the
+door opened and Paddy Rouse entered.</p>
+
+<p>"The baby doll is here and wants to see you,"
+Paddy announced.</p>
+
+<p>"Who?" Peter Gross asked, mystified.</p>
+
+<p>"The yellow kid; old man Muller's chocolate
+darling," Paddy elucidated.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross looked at him in stern reproof.</p>
+
+<p>"Let the Juffrouw Koyala be the Juffrouw Koyala
+to you hereafter," he commanded harshly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir." Paddy erased the grin from his lips
+but not from his eyes. "Shall I ask the lady to
+come in?"</p>
+
+<p>"You may request her to enter," Peter Gross said.
+"And, Paddy&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"&mdash;leave the door open."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>The red head bobbed to hide another grin.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Unconquerable as the sea," he mused. "And
+apt to be as tempestuous. She's well named&mdash;the
+Argus Pheasant."</p>
+
+<p>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 perfectly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>
+shaped those ankles were, and how delicately her
+exquisitely formed feet tapered in the soft, doe-skin
+sandals.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>juffrouw</i>, which of my <i>controlleurs</i> is in
+mischief now?" he asked in mock resignation.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala flashed him a quick smile, a swift, dangerous,
+alluring smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Am I always complaining, <i>mynheer</i>?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross leaned back comfortably. He was
+smiling, too, a smile of masculine contentment.
+"No, not always, <i>juffrouw</i>," he conceded. "But
+you kept me pretty busy at first."</p>
+
+<p>"It was necessary, <i>mynheer</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross nodded assent. "To be sure, <i>juffrouw</i>,
+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."</p>
+
+<p>He glanced at her reprovingly. "You haven't
+been here much this week; this is only the second
+time."</p>
+
+<p>A mysterious light flashed in Koyala's eyes, but
+Peter Gross was too intent on admiring her splendid
+physical sufficiency to notice it.</p>
+
+<p>"You are very busy, Mynheer Resident," Koyala
+purred. "I take too much of your time as it is with
+my trifling complaints."</p>
+
+<p>"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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>
+"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."</p>
+
+<p>He leaned forward earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>"We must work out the salvation of Bulungan
+together, <i>juffrouw</i>. 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."</p>
+
+<p>Koyala's eyes lowered before his beseeching gaze
+and the earnestness of his plea.</p>
+
+<p>"You are very kind, <i>mynheer</i>," she said softly.
+"But you overestimate my powers. I am only a
+woman&mdash;it is the Rajahs who rule."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled frankly.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to be honest with you, <i>juffrouw</i>. 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."</p>
+
+<p>Koyala's face was hidden. Peter Gross saw that
+her lips pressed together tightly and that she was
+undergoing some powerful emotion. He looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>
+at her anxiously, fearful that he had spoken too
+early, that she was not yet ready to commit herself
+utterly to his cause.</p>
+
+<p>"I came to see you, <i>mynheer</i>, about an affair
+that happened in the country of the Sadong Dyaks,"
+Koyala announced quietly.</p>
+
+<p>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:</p>
+
+<p>"Another complaint, <i>juffrouw</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>The smile that had been on Peter Gross's lips
+died instantly. His face became drawn and hard.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"If you choose the hill people for your brothers,
+the sea people will not accept you," Koyala said
+coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"I choose no nation and have no favorites,"
+Peter Gross replied sternly. "I have only one
+desire&mdash;to deal absolute and impartial justice to all.
+Let me think."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He bowed his head in his hands and closed his
+eyes in thought. Koyala watched him like a tigress
+in the bush.</p>
+
+<p>"Who found the body of the slain man?" he
+asked suddenly, looking up again.</p>
+
+<p>"Lkath himself, and some of his people," Koyala
+replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Do the Sadong Dyaks use the sumpitan?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Dyaks of the sea do not fight their enemies
+with poison," Koyala said scornfully. "Only the
+hill Dyaks do that."</p>
+
+<p>"H-m! Where was the body? How far from
+the stream?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was by a water-hole."</p>
+
+<p>"How far from Lkath's village?"</p>
+
+<p>"About five hours' journey. The man was
+hunting."</p>
+
+<p>"Was he alone? Were there any of Lkath's
+people with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" Peter Gross exclaimed involuntarily.
+"Then, according to Dyak custom, he will have to
+marry his brother's wife. Are there any children?"</p>
+
+<p>"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."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I believe that I will go to Sadong myself,"
+Peter Gross said suddenly. "This case needs investigating."</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"I will go to-morrow," Peter Gross said. "I can
+get a proa at Bulungan."</p>
+
+<p>"You will take your people with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I will go alone."</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to Peter Gross that Koyala's face
+showed a trace of disappointment.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;there will be no room for a
+woman&mdash;but if you can find any other means of
+conveyance, the state will pay." He looked at
+her wistfully.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you have been writing to your sweetheart,"
+she exclaimed. Chaffingly as the words were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>
+spoken, Peter Gross felt a little of the burning curiosity
+that lay back of them.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>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:</p>
+
+<p>"I do not want to read your letters. I will see
+you in Sadong&mdash;" She bolted through the door.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross stared in undisguised bewilderment
+after her. It was several minutes before he recovered
+and placed the letter back in the mailing
+receptacle.</p>
+
+<p>"I never will be able to understand women,"
+he said sadly, shaking his head.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Koyala's Ultimatum</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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 follow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>
+them 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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 "<i>salaamat</i>" (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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;this was the great Datu himself.
+The multitude sank to its knees, and each man
+vigorously pounded his head on the ground.</p>
+
+<p>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-ŕ-dos that had hastened forward
+at a signal from Lkath. The vehicles rumbled
+up the hill.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, voice of Djath?" Lkath asked respectfully.</p>
+
+<p>"The <i>bilian</i> is here and awaits your presence,"
+the priest announced.</p>
+
+<p>Lkath stifled an exclamation of surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"A hundred miles over jungle trails in less than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>
+two days," he remarked, with a low whistle. "How
+the devil did she do it?"</p>
+
+<p>There was no doubting the priest's words, however,
+for as they entered the temple Koyala herself
+came to meet them.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"He will be here to-morrow," she announced.
+"What are you going to do with him?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you going to do with him, Datu?"
+Koyala demanded, addressing Ah Sing directly.</p>
+
+<p>"The Princess Koyala is our ally and friend," he
+replied gutturally.</p>
+
+<p>"Your ally waits to hear the decision of the council,"
+Koyala retorted coldly.</p>
+
+<p>Wobanguli interposed. "There are things, <i>bilian</i>,
+that are not fitting for the ear of a woman," he murmured
+suavely, with a sidelong glance at Ah Sing.</p>
+
+<p>"I am a warrior, Rajah, as well as a woman, with
+the same rights in the council that you have,"
+Koyala reminded.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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."</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>"We haven't decided&mdash;" Van Slyck began.</p>
+
+<p>"That is false!"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Peace!" Ah Sing rumbled sternly. "He is my
+prisoner. I marked him for mine before he was
+named resident."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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."</p>
+
+<p>The Dyak blood mounted to Koyala's face.</p>
+
+<p>"He is not yours; he is mine!" she cried. "He
+was mine long before you marked him yours, Datu."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"You desire him?" Ah Sing bellowed. The
+great purple veins stood out on his forehead, and
+his features were distorted with malignancy.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala threw back her head haughtily.</p>
+
+<p>"If I do, who is going to deny me?"</p>
+
+<p>Ah Sing choked in inarticulate fury. His face
+was black with rage.</p>
+
+<p>"I will, woman!" he bawled. "You are mine&mdash;Ah
+Sing's&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>Ah Sing recovered himself and slowly smoothed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>
+his rumpled garments. He did not even look at
+Koyala.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us go," he said thickly.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala sprang to the door. She was panting
+heavily.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall not go until you pledge me that he is
+mine!" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>Ah Sing looked at her unblinkingly. The deadly
+malignancy of his face caused even Van Slyck to
+shiver.</p>
+
+<p>"You may have your lover, woman," he said in a
+low voice.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>They stared at her in astonishment. After a
+sidelong glance at Ah Sing, Wobanguli placed a
+caressing hand on her arm.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Bilian</i>, my daughter&mdash;" he began.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala flung his arm aside and lifted her tear-stained
+face with a passionate gesture.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this my reward?" she cried. "Is this the
+return I get for all I have done to drive the <i>orang
+blanda</i> out of Bulungan? My lover? When no
+lips of man have ever touched mine, shall ever touch
+mine&mdash;" She stamped her foot in fury. "Fools!
+Fools! Can't you see why I want him? He
+laughed at me&mdash;there by the Abbas River&mdash;laughed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>
+at my disgrace&mdash;yea, I know he was laughing,
+though he hid his smile with the cunning of the
+<i>orang blanda</i>. I swore then that he would be mine&mdash;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&mdash;let him drink the deep sleep that has
+no ending outside of Sangjang."</p>
+
+<p>Her fingers clenched spasmodically, as though she
+already felt the hilt of the fatal blade between them.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Why should I trust you?" he snarled.</p>
+
+<p>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:</p>
+
+<p>"I give you his life to-day. But remember,
+Bintang Burung, there is one more powerful than
+all the princes of Bulungan."</p>
+
+<p>"The god Djath is greater than all princes and
+Datus," Koyala replied quietly. "I am his priestess.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>
+Answer, Lkath, whose voice is heard before yours in
+Sadong?"</p>
+
+<p>Lkath bowed low, almost to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>"Djath rules us all," he acknowledged.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," Koyala said to Ah Sing, "even your
+life is mine."</p>
+
+<p>Something like fear came into the eyes of the
+Chinaman for the first time.</p>
+
+<p>"I go back to Bulungan," he announced thickly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Lkath's Conversion</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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 the <i>orang blanda</i> chief 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.</p>
+
+<p>"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 living<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>
+flame. A murmur of surprise ran through the
+crowd. Several Dyaks dropped to their knees.</p>
+
+<p>"They're beginning to find their prayer-bones,
+Mr. Gross," Paddy pointed out, blissfully unconscious
+that it was he who had inspired their reverence.</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Peter Gross saw a familiar girlish
+figure stride lightly down the lane. His face brightened.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-afternoon, <i>juffrouw</i>!" he exclaimed delightedly
+as she approached. "How did you get
+here so soon?"</p>
+
+<p>He offered his hand, and after a moment's hesitation
+Koyala permitted his friendly clasp to encircle
+the tips of her fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"Lkath has a house ready for you," she said.
+"The dos-ŕ-dos will be here in a moment." They
+chatted while the natives gaped until the jiggly,
+two-wheeled carts clattered toward them.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Welcome to the falcon's nest," Lkath said.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>Seized with a sudden admiration of his host, who
+could swallow his prejudices to maintain the tra<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>ditional
+hospitality of his race, Peter Gross resolved
+to win his friendship at all costs. It was his newborn
+admiration that inspired him to reply:</p>
+
+<p>"Your house is well named, Gusti. None but
+eagles would dare roost above the gate to Sangjang."</p>
+
+<p>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:</p>
+
+<p>"My poor house and all that is in it is yours,
+Mynheer Resident."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no door in Borneo more open than
+Lkath's," Peter responded. "I am happy to be
+here with you, brother."</p>
+
+<p>The words were the signal, according to Dyak
+custom, for Lkath to step forward and rub noses.
+But the chief drew back.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>Lkath bowed and said: "Very good, Mynheer
+Resident."</p>
+
+<p>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 fitted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>
+out 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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning the elders assembled in the
+<i>balais</i>, 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.</p>
+
+<p>"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?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>
+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?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross did not answer their questions.
+"Show me where the body was found," he directed.</p>
+
+<p>Paddy Rouse, usually bold to temerariousness,
+protested in dismay, pointing out the danger in
+venturing into the jungle with savages so avowedly
+unfriendly.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm with you wherever you go," Paddy said
+loyally.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>They talked of Bulungan, its sorry history, its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>
+possibilities for development. Koyala's eyes glowed
+with a strange light, and she spoke with an ardency
+that surprised the resident.</p>
+
+<p>"How she loves her country!" he thought.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"These roads are very dusty," he remarked,
+wiping a splinter of fine shale from his own eyes.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"There is some mistake," he said. "No man can
+blow an arrow that far."</p>
+
+<p>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 Dyak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>
+can 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.</p>
+
+<p>"A wonderful shot!" Peter Gross exclaimed in
+pretended amazement. "There is none other can
+shoot like Lkath."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us see how far you can shoot," he said
+pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>The man shrank back. Peter Gross noticed his
+quick start of fear. "I cannot shoot," he protested.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"It is time to start, if we are to be back in Sadong
+before <i>malam</i>" (night) "casts its mantle over the
+earth," he said. Well content with the showing he
+had made, Lkath agreed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>They were passing the temple; it was an hour
+before sundown when Peter Gross said suddenly:</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>The chief, although plainly amazed at hearing
+such a suggestion from a white man, was impressed
+with the idea.</p>
+
+<p>"It is good," he assented heartily.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross looked at Koyala. She was staring
+at him with a puzzled frown, as if striving to fathom
+his purpose.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>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."</p>
+
+<p>Seeing there was no escape, Koyala sank to her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>
+knees 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:</p>
+
+<p>"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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mercy, <i>bilian</i>, 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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He fell in a fit, foaming at the mouth.</p>
+
+<p>There was utter silence for a moment. Then
+Peter Gross said to the aged priest who kept the
+temple:</p>
+
+<p>"Call the guard, father, and have this carrion
+removed to the jail." At a nod from Lkath, the
+priest went.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>When they were alone Lkath asked:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"How did you know, O wise one?" His voice
+expressed an almost superstitious reverence.</p>
+
+<p>"The gods reveal many things to those they love,"
+was Peter Gross's enigmatical reply.</p>
+
+<p>To Paddy Rouse, who asked the same question,
+he made quite a different reply.</p>
+
+<p>"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."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Captured by Pirates</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>When they rose the next morning Peter
+Gross inquired for his host, but was met
+with evasive replies. A premonition that
+something had gone wrong came upon him. He
+asked for Koyala.</p>
+
+<p>"The Bintang Burung has flown to the jungle,"
+one of the servant lads informed him after several
+of the older natives had shrugged their shoulders,
+professing ignorance.</p>
+
+<p>"When did she go?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"The stars were still shining, Datu, when she
+spread her wings," the lad replied. The feeling
+that something was wrong grew upon the resident.</p>
+
+<p>An hour passed, with no sign of Lkath. Attempting
+to leave the house, Peter Gross and Paddy were
+politely but firmly informed that they must await
+the summons to the <i>balais</i>, or assembly-hall, from the
+chieftain.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a rum go," Paddy grumbled.</p>
+
+<p>"I am very much afraid that something has
+happened to turn Lkath against us," Peter Gross
+remarked. "I wish Koyala had stayed."</p>
+
+<p>The summons to attend the <i>balais</i> came a little
+later. When they entered the hall they saw a large<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>
+crowd of natives assembled. Lkath was seated
+in the judge's seat. Peter Gross approached him to
+make the customary salutation, but Lkath rose and
+folded his hands over his chest.</p>
+
+<p>"Mynheer Resident," the chief said with dignity,
+"your mission in Sadong is accomplished. You have
+saved us from a needless war with the hill people.
+But I and the elders of my tribe have talked over
+this thing, and we have decided that it is best you
+should go. The Sadong Dyaks owe nothing to the
+<i>orang blanda</i>. They ask nothing of the <i>orang
+blanda</i>. You came in peace. Go in peace."</p>
+
+<p>A tumult of emotions rose in Peter Gross's breast.
+To see the fruits of his victory snatched from him in
+this way was unbearable. A wild desire to plead
+with Lkath, to force him to reason, came upon him,
+but he fought it down. It would only hurt his
+standing among the natives, he knew; he must command,
+not beg.</p>
+
+<p>"It shall be as you say, Lkath," he said. "Give
+me a pilot and let me go."</p>
+
+<p>"He awaits you on the beach," Lkath replied.
+With this curt dismissal, Peter Gross was forced
+to go.</p>
+
+<p>The failure of his mission weighed heavily upon
+Peter Gross, and he said little all that day. Paddy
+could see that his chief was wholly unable to account
+for Lkath's change of sentiment. Several times he
+heard the resident murmur: "If only Koyala had
+stayed."</p>
+
+<p>Shortly before sundown, while their proa was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>
+making slow headway against an unfavorable
+breeze Paddy noticed his chief standing on the
+raised afterdeck, watching another proa that had
+sailed out of a jungle-hid creek-mouth shortly before
+and was now following in their wake. He cocked
+an eye at the vessel himself and remarked:</p>
+
+<p>"Is that soap-dish faster than ours, or are we
+gaining?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is precisely what I am trying to decide,"
+Peter Gross answered gravely.</p>
+
+<p>Paddy observed the note of concern in the resident's
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"She isn't a pirate, is she?" he asked quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"I am very much afraid she is." Peter Gross
+spoke calmly, but Paddy noticed a tremor in his
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Then we'll have to fight for it?" he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross avoided a direct reply. "I'm wondering
+why she can stay so close inshore and outsail
+us," he said. "The wind is offshore, those high hills
+should cut her off from what little breeze we're
+getting, yet she neither gains nor loses an inch on us."</p>
+
+<p>"Why doesn't she come out where she can get
+the breeze?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, why doesn't she?" Peter Gross echoed.
+"If she were an honest trader she would. But
+keeping that course enables her to intercept us in
+case we should try to make shore."</p>
+
+<p>Paddy did not appear greatly disturbed at the
+prospect of a brush with pirates. In fact, there was
+something like a sparkle of anticipation in his eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>
+But seeing his chief so concerned, he suggested
+soberly:</p>
+
+<p>"Can't we beat out to sea and lose them during
+the night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not if this is the ship I fear it is," the resident
+answered gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"What ship?" The question was frankly curious.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you hear something like a muffled motor
+exhaust a little while ago?"</p>
+
+<p>Paddy looked up in surprise. "That's just
+what I thought it was, only I thought I must be
+crazy, imagining such a thing here."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross sighed. "I thought so," he said with
+gentle resignation. "It must be her."</p>
+
+<p>"Who? What?" There was no escaping the
+lad's eager curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>"The ghost proa. She's a pirate&mdash;Ah Sing's own
+ship, if reports be true. I've never seen her; few
+white men have; but there are stories enough about
+her, God knows. She's equipped with a big marine
+engine imported from New York, I've heard; and
+built like a launch, though she's got the trimmings of
+a proa. She can outrun any ship, steam or sail,
+this side of Hong Kong, and she's manned by a crew
+of fiends that never left a man, woman or child alive
+yet on any ship they've taken."</p>
+
+<p>Paddy's face whitened a little, and he looked
+earnestly at the ship. Presently he started and
+caught Peter Gross's arm.</p>
+
+<p>"There," he exclaimed. "The motor again!
+Did you hear it?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ay," Peter Gross replied. "We had gained a
+few hundred yards on them, and they've made it
+up."</p>
+
+<p>Paddy noted the furtive glances cast at them by
+the crew of their own proa, mostly Bugis and Bajaus,
+the sea-rovers and the sea-wash, with a slight sprinkling
+of Dyaks. He called Peter Gross's attention
+to it.</p>
+
+<p>"They know the proa," the resident said.
+"They'll neither fight nor run. The fight is ours,
+Paddy. You'd better get some rifles on deck."</p>
+
+<p>"We're going to fight?" Rouse asked eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," Peter Gross answered soberly. "We'll
+fight to the end." He placed a hand on his protégé's
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"I shouldn't have brought you here, my lad,"
+he said. There was anguish in his voice. "I
+should have thought of this&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll take my chances," Paddy interrupted gruffly,
+turning away. He dove into their tiny cubicle, a
+boxlike contrivance between decks, to secure rifles
+and cartridges. They carried revolvers. When he
+came up the sun was almost touching the rim of the
+horizon. The pursuing proa, he noticed had approached
+much nearer, almost within hailing distance.</p>
+
+<p>"They don't intend to lose us in the dark," he
+remarked cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>"The moon rises early to-night," Peter Gross
+replied.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later, as the sun was beginning to
+make its thunderclap tropic descent, the <i>juragan</i>, or
+captain of the proa issued a sharp order. The
+crew leaped to the ropes and began hauling in
+sail. Peter Gross swung his rifle to his shoulder and
+covered the navigator.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell your crew to keep away from those sails,"
+he said with deadly intentness.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>juragan</i> hesitated a moment, glanced over his
+shoulder at the pursuing proa, and then reversed his
+orders. As the crew scrambled down they found
+themselves under Paddy's rifle.</p>
+
+<p>"Get below, every man of you," Peter Gross
+barked in the <i>lingua franca</i> of the islands. "Repeat
+that order, <i>juragan</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>The latter did so sullenly, and the crew dropped
+hastily below, apparently well content at keeping
+out of the impending hostilities.</p>
+
+<p>These happenings were plainly visible from the
+deck of the pursuing proa. The sharp chug-chug
+of a motor suddenly sounded, and the disguised
+launch darted forward like a hawk swooping down
+on a chicken. Casting aside all pretense, her
+crew showed themselves above the rail. There
+were at least fifty of them, mostly Chinese and
+Malays, fierce, wicked-looking men, big and powerful,
+some of them nearly as large, physically, as the
+resident himself. They were armed with magazine
+rifles and revolvers and long-bladed krisses. A
+rapid-firer was mounted on the forward deck.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Paddy turned to his chief with a whimsical smile.
+"Pretty big contract," he remarked with unimpaired
+cheerfulness.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's face was white. He knew what
+Paddy did not know, the fiendish tortures the pirates
+inflicted on their hapless victims. He was debating
+whether it were more merciful to shoot the lad and
+then himself or to make a vain stand and take the
+chance of being rendered helpless by a wound.</p>
+
+<p>The launch was only a hundred yards away now&mdash;twenty
+yards. A cabin door on her aft deck opened
+and Peter Gross saw the face of Ah Sing, aglow in
+the dying rays of the sun with a fiendish malignancy
+and satisfaction. Lifting his rifle, he took quick aim.</p>
+
+<p>Four things happened almost simultaneously as
+his rifle cracked. One was Ah Sing staggering forward,
+another was a light footfall on the deck behind
+him and a terrific crash on his head that filled the
+western heavens from horizon to zenith with a blaze
+of glory, the third was the roaring of a revolver in
+his ear and Paddy's voice trailing into the dim distance:</p>
+
+<p>"I got you, damn you."</p>
+
+<p>When he awoke he found himself in a vile, evil-smelling
+hole, in utter darkness. He had a peculiar
+sensation in the pit of his stomach, and his lips and
+tongue were dry and brittle as cork. His head felt
+the size of a barrel. He groaned unconsciously.</p>
+
+<p>"Waking up, governor?" a cheerful voice asked.
+It was Paddy.</p>
+
+<p>By this time Peter Gross was aware, from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>
+rolling motion, that they were at sea. After a
+confused moment he picked up the thread of memory
+where it had been broken off.</p>
+
+<p>"They got us, did they?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"They sure did," Paddy chirruped, as though it
+was quite a lark.</p>
+
+<p>"We haven't landed yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"We made one stop. Just a few hours, I guess,
+to get some grub aboard. I can't make out much
+of their lingo, but from what I've heard I believe
+we're headed for one of the coast towns where we
+can get a doctor. That shot of yours hit the old
+bird in the shoulder; he's scared half to death he's
+going to croak."</p>
+
+<p>"If he only does," Peter Gross prayed fervently
+under his breath. He asked Paddy: "How long
+have we been here?"</p>
+
+<p>"About fourteen hours, I'd say on a guess. We
+turned back a ways, made a stop, and then headed
+this way. I'm not much of a sailor, but I believe
+we've kept a straight course since. At least the roll
+of the launch hasn't changed any."</p>
+
+<p>"Fourteen hours," Peter Gross mused. "It
+might be toward Coti, or it might be the other way.
+Have they fed you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a blankety-blanked thing. Not even sea-water.
+I'm so dry I could swallow the Mississippi."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross made no comment. "Tell me what
+happened," he directed.</p>
+
+<p>Paddy, who was sitting cross-legged, tried to
+shuffle into a more comfortable position. In doing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>
+so he bumped his head against the top of their
+prison. "Ouch!" he exclaimed feelingly.</p>
+
+<p>"You're not hurt?" Peter Gross asked quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"A plug in the arm and a tunk on the head,"
+Paddy acknowledged. "The one in my arm made
+me drop my rifle, but I got two of the snakes before
+they got me. Then I got three more with the gat
+before somebody landed me a lallapaloosa on the
+beano and I took the count. One of the steersmen&mdash;<i>jurumuddis</i>
+you call 'em, don't you?&mdash;got you.
+We forgot about those chaps in the steersmen's box
+when we ordered the crew below. But I finished
+him. He's decorating a nice flat in a shark's belly by
+now."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Wonder why they didn't chuck us overboard,"
+Paddy remarked after a time. "I thought that was
+the polite piratical stunt. Seeing they were so
+darned considerate, giving us this private apartment,
+they might rustle us some grub."</p>
+
+<p>"How shall I tell this light-hearted lad what is
+before us?" Peter Gross groaned in silent agony.</p>
+
+<p>A voluble chatter broke out overhead. Through
+the thin flooring they heard the sound of naked feet
+pattering toward the rail. A moment later the ship's
+course was altered and it began pitching heavily
+in the big rollers. Peter Gross sat bolt upright,
+listening intently.</p>
+
+<p>"What's stirring now?" Paddy asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Hist! I don't know," Peter Gross warned
+sharply.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There was a harsh command to draw in sail, intelligible
+only to Peter Gross, for it was in the island
+patois. Paddy waited in breathless anticipation
+while Peter Gross, every muscle strained and tense,
+listened to the dissonancy above, creaking cordage,
+the flapping of bamboo sails, and the jargon of
+two-score excited men jabbering in their various
+tongues.</p>
+
+<p>There was a series of light explosions, and then a
+steady vibration shook the ship. It leaped ahead
+instantly in response to its powerful motor. It
+was hardly under way when they heard a whistling
+sound overhead. There was a moment's pause, then
+the dull boom of an explosion reached their ear.</p>
+
+<p>"We're under shell-fire!" Paddy gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"That must be the <i>Prins</i>," Peter Gross exclaimed.
+"I hope to Heaven Enckel doesn't know we're
+aboard."</p>
+
+<p>Another whistle of a passing shell and the thunder
+of an explosion. The two were almost simultaneous,
+the shell could not have fallen far from the
+launch's bow, both knew.</p>
+
+<p>"They may sink us!" Paddy cried in a half-breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Better drowning than torture." The curt reply
+was cut short by another shell. The explosion was
+more distant.</p>
+
+<p>"They're losing the range." Paddy exclaimed
+in a low voice. In a flash it came to him why Peter
+Gross had said: "I hope Enckel doesn't know
+we're here."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross stared, white, and silent into the
+blackness, waiting for the next shell. It was long
+in coming, and fell astern. A derisive shout rose
+from the pirates.</p>
+
+<p>"The <i>Prins</i> is falling behind," Paddy cried despairingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, the proa is too fast for her," the resident
+assented in a scarcely audible voice. Tears were
+coursing down his cheeks, tears for the lad that he
+had brought here to suffer unnameable tortures, for
+Peter Gross did not underestimate the fiendish
+ingenuity of Ah Sing and his crew. He felt grateful
+for the wall of darkness between them.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there's more than one way to crawl out
+of a rain-barrel," Paddy observed with unimpaired
+cheerfulness.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross felt that he should speak and tell
+Rouse what they had to expect, but the words
+choked in his throat. Blissful ignorance and a
+natural buoyant optimism sustained the lad, it
+would be cruel to take them away, the resident
+thought. He groaned again.</p>
+
+<p>"Cheer up," Paddy cried, "we'll get another
+chance."</p>
+
+<p>The grotesqueness of the situation&mdash;his youthful
+protégé striving to raise his flagging spirits&mdash;came
+home to Peter Gross even in that moment of suffering
+and brought a rueful smile to his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid, my lad, that the <i>Prins</i> was our last
+hope," he said. There was an almost fatherly
+sympathy in his voice, responsibility seemed to have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>
+added a decade to the slight disparity of years between
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"Rats!" Paddy grunted. "We're not going to
+turn in our checks just yet, governor. This bird's
+got to go ashore somewhere, and it'll be deuced
+funny if Cap Carver and the little lady don't figure
+out some way between 'em to get us out of this."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">In The Temple</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>The hatch above them opened. A bestial
+Chinese face, grinning cruelly, appeared in
+it.</p>
+
+<p>"You b'g-um fellow gettee outtee here plenty
+damn' quick!" the Chinaman barked. He thrust a
+piece of bamboo into the hole and prodded the helpless
+captives below with a savage energy. The
+third thrust of the cane found Peter Gross's ribs.
+With a hoarse cry of anger Paddy sprang to his feet
+and shot his fist into the Chinaman's face before
+the resident could cry a warning.</p>
+
+<p>The blow caught the pirate between the eyes and
+hurled him back on the deck. He gazed at Paddy a
+dazed moment and then sprang to his feet. Lifting
+the cane in both his hands above his head, he uttered
+a shriek of fury and would have driven the weapon
+through Rouse's body had not a giant Bugi, standing
+near by, jumped forward and caught his arm.</p>
+
+<p>Wrestling with the maddened Chinaman, the
+Bugi shouted some words wholly unintelligible to
+Paddy in the pirate's ear. Peter Gross scrambled
+to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Jump on deck, my lad," he shouted. "Quick,
+let them see you. It may save us."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Paddy obeyed. The morning sun, about four
+hours high, played through his rumpled hair, the
+auburn gleaming like flame. Malays, Dyaks, and
+Bugis, attracted by the noise of the struggle, crowded
+round and pointed at him, muttering superstitiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Act like a madman," Peter Gross whispered
+hoarsely to his aide.</p>
+
+<p>Paddy broke into a shriek of foolish laughter. He
+shook as though overcome with mirth, and folded
+his arms over his stomach as he rocked back and
+forth. Suddenly straightening, he yelled a shrill
+"Whoopee!" The next moment he executed a
+handspring into the midst of the natives, almost
+upsetting one of them. The circle widened. A
+Chinese mate tried to interfere, but the indignant
+islanders thrust him violently aside. He shouted
+to the <i>juragan</i>, who ran forward, waving a pistol.</p>
+
+<p>Every one of the crew was similarly armed, and
+every one wore a kris. They formed in a crescent
+between their officer and the captives. In a twinkling
+Peter Gross and Rouse found themselves encircled
+by a wall of steel.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>juragan's</i> automatic dropped to a dead level
+with the eyes of the Bugi who had saved Paddy.
+He bellowed an angry command, but the Bugi
+closed his eyes and lowered his head resignedly,
+nodding in negation. The other islanders stood
+firm. The Chinese of the crew ranged themselves
+behind their captain and a bloody fight seemed
+imminent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A Dyak left the ranks and began talking volubly
+to the <i>juragan</i>, gesticulating wildly and pointing
+at Paddy Rouse and then at the sun. A crooning
+murmur of assent arose from the native portion of
+the crew. The <i>juragan</i> retorted sharply. The Dyak
+broke into another volley of protestations. Paddy
+looked on with a glaringly stupid smile. The <i>juragan</i>
+watched him suspiciously while the Dyak
+talked, but gradually his scowl faded. At last he
+gave a peremptory command and stalked away.
+The crew returned to their duties.</p>
+
+<p>"We're to be allowed to stay on deck as long as
+we behave ourselves until we near shore, or unless
+some trader passes us," Peter Gross said in a low
+voice to Rouse. Paddy blinked to show that he
+understood, and burst into shouts of foolish laughter,
+hopping around on all fours. The natives respectfully
+made room for him. He kept up these antics
+at intervals during the day, while Peter Gross,
+remaining in the shade of the cabin, watched the
+pirates. After prying into every part of the vessel
+with a childish curiosity that none of the crew
+sought to restrain, Paddy returned to his chief and
+reported in a low whisper:</p>
+
+<p>"The old bird isn't aboard, governor."</p>
+
+<p>"I rather suspected he wasn't," Peter Gross answered.
+"He must have been put ashore at the
+stop you spoke of."</p>
+
+<p>It was late that day when the proa, after running
+coastwise all day, turned a quarter circle into one
+of the numerous bays indenting the coast. Peter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>
+Gross recognized the familiar headlands crowning
+Bulungan Bay. Paddy also recognized them, for he
+cried:</p>
+
+<p>"They're bringing us back home."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment the tall Bugi who had been their
+sponsor approached them and made signs to indicate
+that they must return to the box between decks
+from which he had rescued them. He tried to show
+by signs and gestures his profound regret at the
+necessity of locking them up again, his anxiety to
+convince the "son of the Gunong Agong" was almost
+ludicrous. Realizing the futility of objecting, Peter
+Gross and Paddy permitted themselves to be locked
+in the place once more.</p>
+
+<p>It was quite dark and the stars were shining
+brightly when the hatch was lifted again. As they
+rose from their cramped positions and tried to make
+out the circle of faces about them, unceremonious
+hands yanked them to the deck, thrust foul-smelling
+cloths into their mouths, blindfolded them, and
+trussed their hands and feet with stout cords. They
+were lowered into a boat, and after a brief row were
+tossed on the beach like so many sacks of wool,
+placed in boxlike receptacles, and hurried inland.
+Two hours' steady jogging followed, in which they
+were thrown about until every inch of skin on their
+bodies was raw with bruises. They were then
+taken out of the boxes and the cloths and cords were
+removed.</p>
+
+<p>Looking about, Peter Gross and Paddy found
+themselves in the enclosed court of what was evi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>dently
+the ruins of an ancient Hindoo temple. The
+massive columns, silvery in the bright moonlight,
+were covered with inscriptions and outline drawings,
+crudely made in hieroglyphic art. In the center of
+one wall was the chipped and weather-scarred pedestal
+of a Buddha. The idol itself, headless, lay
+broken in two on the floor beside it. Peter Gross's
+brow puckered&mdash;the very existence of such a temple
+two hours' journey distant from Bulungan Bay had
+been unknown to him.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>juragan</i> and his Chinese left after giving
+sharp instructions to their jailers, two Chinese, to
+guard them well. Peter Gross and Paddy looked
+about in vain for a single friendly face or even the
+face of a brown-skinned man&mdash;every member of
+the party was Chinese. The jailers demonstrated
+their capacity by promptly thrusting their prisoners
+into a dark room off the main court. It was
+built of stone, like the rest of the temple.</p>
+
+<p>"Not much chance for digging out of here,"
+Rouse observed, after examining the huge stones,
+literally mortised together, and the narrow window
+aperture with its iron gratings. Peter Gross also
+made as careful an examination of their prison as
+the darkness permitted.</p>
+
+<p>"We may as well make ourselves comfortable,"
+was his only observation at the close of his investigation.</p>
+
+<p>They chatted a short time, and at last Paddy,
+worn out by his exertions, fell asleep. Peter Gross
+listened for a while to the lad's rhythmic breathing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>
+then tip-toed to the gratings and pulled himself
+up to them. A cackle of derisive laughter arose
+outside. Realizing that the place was carefully
+watched, he dropped back to the floor and began
+pacing the chamber, his head lowered in thought.
+Presently he stopped beside Rouse and gazed into
+the lad's upturned face, blissfully serene in the
+innocent confidence of youth. Tears gathered in
+his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I shouldn't have brought him here; I shouldn't
+have brought him here," he muttered brokenly.</p>
+
+<p>The scraping of the ponderous bar that bolted the
+door interrupted his meditations shortly after daybreak.
+The door creaked rustily on its hinges, and
+an ugly, leering Chinese face peered inside. Satisfying
+himself that his prisoners were not planning
+mischief, the Chinaman thrust two bowls of soggy
+rice and a pannikin of water inside and gestured to
+Peter Gross that he must eat. The indignant protest
+of the door as it closed awoke Paddy, who sat
+bolt upright and blinked sleepily until he saw the
+food.</p>
+
+<p>"What? Time for breakfast?" he exclaimed with
+an amiable grin. "I must have overslept."</p>
+
+<p>He picked up a bowl of rice, stirred it critically
+with one of the chopsticks their jailers had provided,
+and snuffed at the mixture. He put it down
+with a wry face.</p>
+
+<p>"Whew!" he whistled. "It's stale."</p>
+
+<p>"You had better try to eat something," Peter
+Gross advised.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'm that hungry I could eat toasted sole leather,"
+Paddy confessed. "But this stuff smells to heaven."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross took the other bowl and began eating,
+wielding the chopsticks expertly.</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't half bad&mdash;I've had worse rations on
+board your uncle's ship," he encouraged.</p>
+
+<p>"Then my dear old avunculus ought to be hung,"
+Paddy declared with conviction. Hunger and his
+superior's example finally overcame his scruples,
+however, and presently he was eating with gusto.</p>
+
+<p>"Faith," he exclaimed, "I've got more appetite
+than I imagined."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross did not answer. He was wondering
+whether the rice was poisoned, and half hoped it
+was. It would be an easier death than by torture,
+he thought. But he forebore mentioning this to
+Paddy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Ah Sing's Vengeance</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Two days, whose monotony was varied only
+by occasional visits from one or another of
+their jailers, passed in this way. Peter
+Gross's faint hope that they might be able to
+escape by overpowering the Chinamen, while the
+latter brought them their meals, faded; the jailers
+had evidently been particularly cautioned against
+such an attempt and were on their guard.</p>
+
+<p>On the afternoon of the second day a commotion
+in the fore-court of the temple, distinctly audible
+through the gratings, raised their curiosity to fever
+heat. They listened intently and tried to distinguish
+voices and words in the hubbub, but were
+unsuccessful. It was apparent, however, that a
+large party had arrived. There were fully a hundred
+men in it, Peter Gross guessed, possibly twice
+that number.</p>
+
+<p>"What's this?" Paddy asked.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's face was set in hard, firm lines, and
+there was an imperious note in his voice as he said:</p>
+
+<p>"Come here, Paddy. I have a few words to say
+to you."</p>
+
+<p>Paddy's face lost its familiar smile as he followed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>
+his chief to the corner of their prison farthest from
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what this means, but I rather
+suspect that Ah Sing has arrived," Peter Gross
+said. He strove to speak calmly, but his voice
+broke. "If that is the case, we will probably part.
+You will not see me again. You may escape, but
+it is doubtful. If you see the slightest chance to get
+away, take it. Being shot or krissed is a quicker
+death than by torture."</p>
+
+<p>In spite of his effort at self-control, Paddy's face
+blanched.</p>
+
+<p>"By torture?" he asked in a low voice of amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"That is what we may expect," Peter Gross
+declared curtly.</p>
+
+<p>Paddy breathed hard a moment. Then he laid
+an impulsive hand on his leader's arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's rush 'em the minute the door opens, Mr.
+Gross."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross shook his head in negation. "While
+there is life there is hope," he said, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>Paddy did not perceive that his chief was offering
+himself in the hope that his death might appease the
+pirate's craving for vengeance.</p>
+
+<p>They strolled about, their hearts too full for
+speech. Presently Paddy lifted his head alertly
+and signaled for silence. He was standing near the
+window and raised himself on tiptoe to catch the
+sounds coming through. Peter Gross walked softly
+toward him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I heard a white man speaking just
+now," Paddy whispered. "It sounded like Van
+Slyck's voice&mdash;Hist!"</p>
+
+<p>A low murmur of ironic laughter came through
+the gratings. Peter Gross's face became black with
+anger. There was no doubting who it was that had
+laughed.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later they heard the scraping of
+the heavy bar as it was lifted out of its socket, then
+the door opened. Several armed Chinamen, giants
+of their race, sprang inside. Ah Sing entered behind
+them, pointed at Peter Gross, and issued a
+harsh, guttural command.</p>
+
+<p>The resident walked forward and passively submitted
+to the rough hands placed upon him. Paddy
+tried to follow, but two of the guards thrust him
+back so roughly that he fell. Furious with anger,
+he leaped to his feet and sprang at one of them, but
+the Chinaman caught him, doubled his arm with a
+jiu-jitsu trick, and then threw him down again.
+The other prodded him with a spear. Inwardly
+raging, Paddy lay motionless until the guards tired
+of their sport and left him.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime Peter Gross was half led, half
+dragged through the fore-court of the temple into
+another chamber. Those behind him prodded
+him with spear-points, those in front spit in his
+face. He stumbled, and as he regained his balance
+four barbs entered his back and legs, but his teeth
+were grimly set and he made no sound. Although<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span>
+he gazed about for Van Slyck, he saw no signs of
+him; the captain had unquestionably deemed it best
+to keep out of sight.</p>
+
+<p>In the chamber, at Ah Sing's command, they
+bound him securely hand and foot, with thongs of
+crocodile hide. Then the guards filed out and left
+the pirate chief alone with his prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>As the doors closed on them Ah Sing walked
+slowly toward the resident, who was lying on his
+back on the tessellated pavement. Peter Gross
+looked back calmly into the eyes that were fixed so
+gloatingly upon him. In them he read no sign of
+mercy. They shone with a savage exultation and
+fiendish cruelty. Ah Sing sighed a sigh of satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"Why you don't speak, Mynheer Gross?" he
+asked, mimicking Van Schouten's raspy voice.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross made no reply, but continued staring
+tranquilly into the face of his arch-enemy.</p>
+
+<p>"Mebbe you comee Ah Sing's house for two-three
+men?" the pirate chief suggested with a wicked
+grin.</p>
+
+<p>"Mebbe you show Ah Sing one damn' fine ring
+Mauritius?" the pirate chief mocked.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross did not flick an eyelash. A spasm
+of passion flashed over Ah Sing's face, and he
+kicked the resident violently.</p>
+
+<p>"Speakee, Chlistian dog," he snarled.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's lips twitched with pain, but he did
+not utter a sound.</p>
+
+<p>"I teachum you speakee Ah Sing," the pirate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>
+declared grimly. Whipping a dagger from his girdle,
+he thrust it between Peter Gross's fourth and fifth
+ribs next to his heart. The point entered the skin,
+but Peter Gross made no sound. It penetrated a
+quarter-inch.</p>
+
+<p>Ah Sing, smiling evilly, searched the face of his
+victim for an expression of fear or pain. Three-eighths
+of an inch, half an inch&mdash;Peter Gross suddenly
+lunged forward. An involuntary contraction
+of his facial muscles betrayed him, and the Chinaman
+pulled the dagger away before the resident
+could impale himself upon it. He stepped back,
+and a look of admiration came upon his face&mdash;it
+was the tribute of one strong man to another.</p>
+
+<p>"Peter him muchee likee go <i>sangjang</i> (hades),"
+he observed. "Ah Sing sendee him to-mollow,
+piecee, piecee, plenty much talkee then." The
+pirate indicated with strokes of his dagger that he
+would cut off Peter Gross's toes, fingers, ears, nose,
+arms, and legs piecemeal at the torture. Giving
+his victim another violent kick, he turned and
+passed through the door. A few minutes later a
+native physician came in with two armed guards
+and staunched the flow of blood, applying bandages
+with dressings of herbs to subdue inflammation.</p>
+
+<p>Night settled soon after. The darkness in the
+chamber was abysmal. Peter Gross lay on one
+side and stared into the blackness, waiting for the
+morning, the morning Ah Sing promised to make his
+last. Rats scurried about the floor and stopped to
+sniff suspiciously at him. At times he wished they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>
+were numerous enough to attack him. He knew
+full well the savage ingenuity of the wretches into
+whose hands he had fallen for devising tortures
+unspeakable, unendurable.</p>
+
+<p>Dawn came at last. The first rays of the sun
+peeping through the gratings found him asleep.
+Exhausted nature had demanded her toll, and even
+the horror of his situation had failed to banish
+slumber from his heavy lids. As the sun rose and
+gained strength the temperature sensibly increased,
+but Peter Gross slept on.</p>
+
+<p>He awoke naturally. Stretching himself to ease
+his stiffened limbs, he felt a sharp twitch of pain
+that brought instant remembrance. He struggled
+to a sitting posture. The position of the sun's rays
+on the wall indicated that the morning was well
+advanced.</p>
+
+<p>He listened for the camp sounds, wondering why
+his captors had not appeared for him before now.
+There was no sound outside except the soughing of
+the wind through the jungle and the lackadaisical
+chatter of the pargams and lories.</p>
+
+<p>"Strange!" he muttered to himself. "It can't
+be that they've left."</p>
+
+<p>His shoulders were aching frightfully, and he
+tugged at his bonds to get his hands free, but they
+were too firmly bound to be released by his unaided
+efforts. His clothing, he noticed, was almost
+drenched, the heavy night dew had clustered thickly
+upon it. So does man cling to the minor comforts
+even in his extremity that he labored to bring him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>self
+within the narrow park of the sun's rays to dry
+his clothing.</p>
+
+<p>He was still enjoying his sun-bath when he heard
+the bar that fastened the door of his chamber lifted
+from its sockets. His lips closed firmly. A half-uttered
+prayer, "God give me strength," floated
+upward, then the door opened. An armed guard,
+one of his jailers for the past two days, peered
+inside.</p>
+
+<p>Seeing his prisoner firmly bound, he ventured
+within with the customary bowl of rice and pannikin
+of water. A slash of his kris cut the thongs binding
+Peter Gross's hands, then the jailer backed to the
+door while the resident slowly and dazedly unwound
+the thongs that had bound him.</p>
+
+<p>Expecting nothing else than that he would be led
+to the torture, persuaded that the door would be
+opened for no other purpose, Peter Gross could not
+comprehend for a few moments what had happened.
+Then he realized that a few hours of additional
+grace had been vouchsafed him, and that Ah
+Sing and his crew must have left.</p>
+
+<p>He wondered why food was offered him. In the
+imminent expectancy of death, the very thought of
+eating had nauseated him the moment before. Yet
+to have this shadow removed, if only for a few hours,
+brought him an appetite. He ate with relish, the
+guard watching him in the meantime with cat-like
+intentness and holding his spear in instant readiness.
+As soon as the resident had finished he bore the
+dishes away, barring the door carefully again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">A Rescue</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Released from his bonds, for the jailer had
+not replaced these, Peter Gross spent the
+hours in comparative comfort. He amused
+himself in examining every inch of the cell in the
+faint hope that he might find a weak spot, and in
+meditating other plans of escape. Although missing
+Paddy's ready smile and readier chaff greatly, he
+did not worry about the lad, for since he was safe
+himself he reasoned that his subordinate must be.</p>
+
+<p>Late in the afternoon, while he was pacing his
+cell, the sharp crack of a rifle suddenly broke the
+forest stillness. Holding himself tense and rigid
+with every fiber thrilling at the thought of rescue,
+he listened for the repetition of the shot. It came
+quickly, mingled with a blood-curdling yell from a
+hundred or more savage throats. There were other
+scattered shots.</p>
+
+<p>His finger-nails bit into his palms, and his heart
+seemed to stand still. Had Carver found him?
+Were these Dyaks friends or enemies? The next
+few moments seemed that many eternities; then
+he heard a ringing American shout:</p>
+
+<p>"We've got 'em all, boys; come on!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross leaped to the grating. "Here, Carver,
+here!" he shouted at the top of his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Coming!" twenty or more voices shouted in a
+scattered chorus. There was a rush of feet, leather-shod
+feet, across the fore-court pavement. The
+heavy bar was lifted. Striving to remain calm,
+although his heart beat tumultuously, Peter Gross
+waited in the center of the chamber until the door
+opened and Carver sprang within.</p>
+
+<p>The captain blinked to accustom himself to the
+light. Peter Gross stepped forward and their
+hands clasped.</p>
+
+<p>"In time, Mr. Gross, thank God!" Carver exclaimed.
+"Where's Paddy?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the other chamber; I'll show you," Peter
+Gross answered. He sprang out of his cell like a
+colt from the barrier and led the way on the double-quick
+to the cell that had housed him and Paddy for
+two days. Carver and he lifted the bar together
+and forced the door. The cell was empty.</p>
+
+<p>It took a full minute for the resident to comprehend
+this fact. He stared dazedly at every inch of
+the floor and wall, exploring bare corners with an
+eager eye, as though Paddy might be hiding in some
+nook or cranny. But the tenantless condition of the
+chamber was indisputable.</p>
+
+<p>A half-sob broke in Peter Gross's throat. It was
+the first emotion he had given way to.</p>
+
+<p>"They've taken him away," he said in a low,
+strained voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Search the temple!" Carver shouted in a sten<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>torian
+voice to several of his command. "Get Jahi
+to help; he probably knows this place."</p>
+
+<p>"Jahi's here?" Peter Gross exclaimed incredulously.</p>
+
+<p>"He and a hundred hillmen," Carver replied
+crisply. "Now to comb this pile."</p>
+
+<p>The tribesmen scattered to search the ruin. It
+was not extensive. In the meantime Peter Gross
+briefly sketched the happenings of the past few
+days to Carver. At the mention of Van Slyck the
+captain's face became livid.</p>
+
+<p>"The damn' skunk said he was going to Padang,"
+he exclaimed. "He left Banning in charge. I
+hope to God he stays away."</p>
+
+<p>One of Jahi's hillmen reported that no trace of
+Rouse could be found. "Him no here; him in
+bush," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"The Chinks have gone back to their proas; the
+trail heads that way," Carver said. "Some of
+Jahi's boys picked it up before we found you. But
+what the deuce do they want with Rouse, if they
+haven't killed him?"</p>
+
+<p>"He's alive," Peter Gross declared confidently,
+although his own heart was heavy with misgiving.
+"We've got to rescue him."</p>
+
+<p>"They've got at least five hours the start of us,"
+Carver remarked. "How far are we from the seacoast?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's reply was as militarily curt as the
+captain's question.</p>
+
+<p>"About two hours' march."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"They're probably at sea. We'll take a chance,
+though." He glanced upward at the sound of a
+footfall. "Ah, here's Jahi."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross turned to the chieftain who had so
+promptly lived up to his oath of brotherhood. Warm
+with gratitude, he longed to crush the Dyak's
+hand within his own, but restrained himself, knowing
+how the Borneans despised display of emotion.
+Instead he greeted the chief formally, rubbing noses
+according to the custom of the country.</p>
+
+<p>No word of thanks crossed his lips, for he realized
+that Jahi would be offended if he spoke. Such a
+service was due from brother to brother, according
+to the Dyak code.</p>
+
+<p>"Rajah, can we catch those China boys before they
+reach their proas?" Carver asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No can catch," Jahi replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Can we catch them before they sail?"</p>
+
+<p>"No can say."</p>
+
+<p>"How far is it?"</p>
+
+<p>They were standing near a lone column of stone
+that threw a short shadow toward them. Jahi
+touched the pavement with his spear at a point
+about six inches beyond the end of the shadow.</p>
+
+<p>"When there shall have reached by so far the
+finger of the sun," he declared.</p>
+
+<p>Both Carver and Peter Gross understood that he
+was designating how much longer the shadow must
+grow.</p>
+
+<p>"About two hours, as you said," Carver remarked
+to his chief. "We'd better start at once."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Jahi bowed to indicate that he had understood.
+He took some soiled sheets of China rice paper from
+his chawat.</p>
+
+<p>"Here are skins that talk, <i>mynheer kapitein</i>," he
+said respectfully. "Dyak boy find him in China
+boy kampong."</p>
+
+<p>Carver thrust them into his pocket without looking
+at them and blew his whistle. A few minutes
+later they began the march to the sea.</p>
+
+<p>While they were speeding through a leafy tunnel
+with Jahi's Dyaks covering the front and rear to
+guard against surprise, Carver found opportunity
+to explain to Peter Gross how he had been able to
+make the rescue. Koyala had learned Ah Sing's
+plans from a native source and had hastened to
+Jahi, who was watching the borders of his range to
+guard against a surprise attack by Lkath. Jahi,
+on Koyala's advice, had made a forced march to
+within ten miles of Bulungan, where Carver, summoned
+by Koyala, had joined him. Starting at
+midnight, they had made an eight-hour march to
+the temple.</p>
+
+<p>"Koyala again," Peter Gross remarked. "She
+has been our good angel all the way."</p>
+
+<p>Carver was silent. The resident looked at him
+curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"I am surprised that you believed her so readily,"
+he said. They jogged along some distance before
+the captain replied.</p>
+
+<p>"I believed her. But I don't believe in her," he
+said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Something's happened since to cause you to lose
+confidence in her?" Peter Gross asked quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, nothing specific. Only Muller and his <i>controlleurs</i>
+are having the devil's own time getting the
+census. Many of the chiefs won't even let them
+enter their villages. Somebody has been stirring
+them up. And there have been raids&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"So you assume it's Koyala?" Peter Gross demanded
+harshly.</p>
+
+<p>Carver evaded a reply. "I got a report that the
+priests are preaching a holy war among the Malay
+and Dyak Mohammedans."</p>
+
+<p>"That is bad, bad," Peter Gross observed, frowning
+thoughtfully. "We must find out who is at the
+bottom of this."</p>
+
+<p>"The Argus Pheasant isn't flying around the
+country for nothing," Carver suggested, but stopped
+abruptly as he saw the flash of anger that crossed
+his superior's face.</p>
+
+<p>"Every success we have had is due to her,"
+Peter Gross asserted sharply. "She saved my life
+three times."</p>
+
+<p>Carver hazarded one more effort.</p>
+
+<p>"Granted. For some reason we don't know she
+thinks it's to her interest to keep you alive&mdash;for the
+present. But she has an object. I can't make it
+out yet, but I'm going to&mdash;" The captain's lips
+closed resolutely.</p>
+
+<p>"You condemned her before you saw her because
+she has Dyak blood," Peter Gross accused. "It
+isn't fair."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'd like her a lot more if she wasn't so confounded
+friendly," Carver replied dryly.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross did not answer, and by tacit consent
+the subject was dropped.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Carver was looking at his watch&mdash;the
+two hours were more than up&mdash;when Jahi, who had
+been in the van, stole back and lifted his hand in
+signal for silence.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Orang blanda</i> here stay, Dyak boy smell kampong,"
+he said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Fight on the Beach</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Carver gave a low-voiced command to halt,
+and enjoined his men to see to their weapons.
+As he ran his eyes over his company and
+saw their dogged jaws and alert, watchful faces,
+devoid of any trace of nervousness and excitability,
+his face lit with a quiet satisfaction. These men
+would fight&mdash;they were veterans who knew how to
+fight, and they had a motive; Paddy was a universal
+favorite.</p>
+
+<p>A Dyak plunged through the bush toward Jahi
+and jabbered excitedly. Jahi cried:</p>
+
+<p>"China boy, him go proa, three-four sampan."</p>
+
+<p>"Lead the way," Carver cried. Peter Gross
+translated.</p>
+
+<p>"Double time," the captain shouted, as Jahi and
+his tribesmen plunged through the bush at a pace
+too swift for even Peter Gross.</p>
+
+<p>In less than three minutes they reached the edge
+of the jungle, back about fifty yards from the coral
+beach. Four hundred yards from shore a proa was
+being loaded from several large sampans. Some
+distance out to sea, near the horizon, was another
+proa.</p>
+
+<p>A sharp command from Carver kept his men<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>
+from rushing out on the beach in their ardor.
+In a moment or two every rifle in the company was
+covering the sampans. But there were sharp eyes
+and ears on board the proa as well as on shore, and a
+cry of alarm was given from the deck. The Chinese
+in the sampans leaped upward. At the same
+moment Carver gave the command to fire.</p>
+
+<p>Fully twenty Chinamen on the two sampans
+floating on the leeward side of the proa made the
+leap to her deck, and of these eleven fell back, so
+deadly was the fire. Only two of them dropped into
+the boats, the others falling into the sea. Equipped
+with the latest type of magazine rifle, Carver's
+irregulars continued pumping lead into the proa.
+Several Chinamen thrust rifles over the rail and
+attempted a reply, but when one dropped back with
+a bullet through his forehead and another with a
+creased skull, they desisted and took refuge behind
+the ship's steel-jacketed rail. Perceiving that the
+proa was armored against rifle-fire, Carver ordered
+all but six of his command to cease firing, the six
+making things sufficiently hot to keep the pirates
+from replying.</p>
+
+<p>The sampans were sinking. Built of skins placed
+around a bamboo frame, they had been badly cut by
+the first discharge. As one of them lowered to the
+gunwale, those on shore could see a wounded Chinaman,
+scarce able to crawl, beg his companions to
+throw him a rope. A coil of hemp shot over the
+deck of the vessel. The pirate reached for it, but
+at that moment the sampan went down and left<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>
+him swirling in the water. A dorsal fin cut the
+surface close by, there was a little flurry, and the
+pirate disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross made his way through the bush toward
+Carver. The latter was watching the proa with an
+anxious frown.</p>
+
+<p>"They've got a steel jacket on her," he declared
+in answer to the resident's question. "So long as
+they don't show themselves we can't touch them.
+We couldn't go out to them in sampans if we had
+them; they'd sink us."</p>
+
+<p>"Concentrate your fire on the water-line," Peter
+Gross suggested. "The armor doesn't probably
+reach very low, and some of these proas are poorly
+built."</p>
+
+<p>"A good idea!" Carver bellowed the order.</p>
+
+<p>The fire was concentrated at the stern, where the
+ship rode highest. That those on board became
+instantly aware of the maneuver was evident from
+the fact that a pirate, hideously attired with a belt
+of human hands, leaned over the bow to slash at
+the hempen cable with his kris. He gave two cuts
+when he straightened spasmodically and tumbled
+headlong into the sea. He did not appear above
+the surface again.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Een</i>," John Vander Esse, a member of the crew,
+murmured happily, refilling his magazine. "Now
+for <i>nummer twee</i>." (Number two.)</p>
+
+<p>But the kris had been whetted to a keen edge.
+A gust of wind filled the proa's cumbersome triangular
+sail and drove her forward. The weakened cable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>
+snapped. The ship lunged and half rolled into the
+trough of the waves; then the steersmen, sheltered
+in their box, gained control and swung it about.</p>
+
+<p>"Gif heem all you got," Anderson, a big Scandinavian
+and particularly fond of Rouse, yelled.
+The concentrated fire of the twenty-five rifles, emptied,
+refilled, and emptied as fast as human hands
+could perform these operations, centered on the
+stern of the ship. Even sturdy teak could not resist
+that battering. The proa had not gone a hundred
+yards before it was seen that the stern was settling.
+Suddenly it came about and headed for the shore.</p>
+
+<p>There was a shrill yell from Jahi's Dyaks. Carver
+shouted a hoarse order to Jahi, who dashed away
+with his hillmen to the point where the ship was
+about to ground. The rifle-fire kept on undiminished
+while Carver led his men in short dashes
+along the edge of the bush to the same spot. The
+proa was nearing the beach when a white flag was
+hoisted on her deck. Carver instantly gave the
+order to cease firing, but kept his men hidden. The
+proa lunged on. A hundred feet from the shore it
+struck on a shelf of coral. The sound of tearing
+planking was distinctly audible above the roar of
+the waves. The water about the ship seemed to be
+fairly alive with fins.</p>
+
+<p>"We will accept their surrender," Peter Gross
+said to Carver. "I shall tell them to send a boat
+ashore." He stepped forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't expose yourself, Mr. Gross," Carver cried
+anxiously. Peter Gross stepped into the shelter of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>
+a cocoanut-palm and shouted the Malay for "Ahoy."</p>
+
+<p>A Chinaman appeared at the bow. His dress and
+trappings showed that he was a <i>juragan</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Lower a boat and come ashore. But leave your
+guns behind," Peter Gross ordered.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>juragan</i> cried that there was no boat aboard.
+Peter Gross conferred with Jahi who had hastened
+toward them to find out what the conference meant.
+When the resident told him that there was to be no
+more killing, his disappointment was evident.</p>
+
+<p>"They have killed my people without mercy,"
+he objected. "They will cut my brother's throat
+to-morrow and hang his skull in their lodges."</p>
+
+<p>It was necessary to use diplomacy to avoid mortally
+offending his ally, the resident saw.</p>
+
+<p>"It was not the white man's way to kill when the
+fight is over," he said. "Moreover, we will hold
+them as hostages for our son, whom Djath has
+blessed."</p>
+
+<p>Jahi nodded dubiously. "My brother's word is
+good," he said. "There is a creek near by. Maybe
+my boys find him sampan."</p>
+
+<p>"Go, my brother," Peter Gross directed. "Come
+back as soon as possible."</p>
+
+<p>Jahi vanished into the bush. A half-hour later
+Peter Gross made out a small sampan, paddled by
+two Dyaks, approaching from the south. That
+the Dyaks were none too confident was apparent
+from the anxious glances that they shot at the proa,
+which was already beginning to show signs of breaking
+up.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross shouted again to the <i>juragan</i>, and
+instructed him that every man leaving the proa
+must stand on the rail, in full sight of those on shore,
+and show that he was weaponless before descending
+into the sampan. The <i>juragan</i> consented.</p>
+
+<p>It required five trips to the doomed ship before
+all on board were taken off. There were thirty-seven
+in all&mdash;eleven sailors and the rest off-scourings
+of the Java and Celebes seas, whose only vocation
+was cutting throats. They glared at their captors
+like tigers; it was more than evident that practically
+all of them except the <i>juragan</i> fully expected to meet
+the same fate that they meted out to every one who
+fell into their hands, and were prepared to sell their
+lives as dearly as possible.</p>
+
+<p>"A nasty crew," Carver remarked to Peter Gross
+as the pirates were herded on the beach under the
+rifles of his company. "Every man's expecting to
+be handed the same dose as he's handed some poor
+devil. I wonder why they didn't sink with their
+ship?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross did not stop to explain, although he
+knew the reason why&mdash;the Mohammedan's horror
+of having his corpse pass into the belly of a shark.</p>
+
+<p>"We've got to tie them up and make a chain-gang
+of them," Carver said thoughtfully. "I wouldn't
+dare go through the jungle with that crew any other
+way."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross was looking at Jahi, in earnest conversation
+with several of his tribesmen. He perceived
+that the hill chief had all he could do to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>
+restrain his people from falling on the pirates, long
+their oppressors.</p>
+
+<p>"I will speak to them," he announced quietly.
+He stepped forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Servants of Ah Sing," he shouted in an authoritative
+tone. All eyes were instantly focused on him.</p>
+
+<p>"Servants of Ah Sing," he repeated, "the fortunes
+of war have this day made you my captives.
+You must go with me to Bulungan. If you will
+not go, you shall die here."</p>
+
+<p>A simultaneous movement affected the pirates.
+They clustered more closely together, fiercely
+defiant, and stared with the fatalistic indifference
+of Oriental peoples into the barrels of the rifles
+aimed at them.</p>
+
+<p>"You've all heard of me," Peter Gross resumed.
+"You know that the voice of Peter Gross speaks
+truth, that lies do not come from his mouth." He
+glanced at a Chinaman on the outskirts of the
+crowd. "Speak, Wong Ling Lo, you sailed with
+me on the <i>Daisy Deane</i>, is it not so?"</p>
+
+<p>Wong Ling Lo was now the center of attention.
+Each of the pirates awaited his reply with
+breathless expectancy. Peter Gross's calm assurance,
+his candor and simplicity, were already stirring
+in them a hope that in other moments they would
+have deemed utterly fantastic, contrary to all
+nature&mdash;a hope that this white man might be different
+from other men, might possess that attribute
+so utterly incomprehensible to their dark minds&mdash;mercy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Peter Gross, him no lie," was Wong Ling Lo's
+unemotional admission.</p>
+
+<p>"You have heard what Wong Ling Lo says,"
+Peter Gross cried. "Now, listen to what I say.
+You shall go back with me to Bulungan; alive, if
+you are willing; dead, if you are not. At Bulungan
+each one of you shall have a fair trial. Every man
+who can prove that his hand has not taken life
+shall be sentenced to three years on the coffee-plantations
+for his robberies, then he shall be set free
+and provided with a farm of his own to till so that
+he may redeem himself. Every man who has
+taken human life in the service of Ah Sing shall die."</p>
+
+<p>He paused to see the effect of his announcement.
+The owlish faces turned toward him were wholly
+enigmatic, but the intensity of each man's gaze
+revealed to Peter Gross the measure of their interest.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot take you along the trail without binding
+you," he said. "Your oaths are worthless; I
+must use the power I have over you. Therefore
+you will now remember the promise I have made you,
+and submit yourselves to be bound. <i>Juragan</i>, you
+are the first."</p>
+
+<p>As one of Carver's force came forward with cords
+salvaged from the proa, the <i>juragan</i> met him, placed
+his hands behind his back, and suffered them to be
+tied together. The next man hesitated, then submitted
+also, casting anxious glances at his companions.
+The third submitted promptly. The
+fourth folded his hands across his chest.</p>
+
+<p>"I remain here," he announced.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Very well," Peter Gross said impassively. He
+forced several Chinamen who were near to move
+back. They gave ground sullenly. At Carver's
+orders a firing-squad of three men stood in front of
+the Chinaman, whose back was toward the bay.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you go with us?" Peter Gross asked again.</p>
+
+<p>The Chinaman's face was a ghostly gray, but very
+firm.</p>
+
+<p>"Allah wills I stay here," he replied. His lips
+curled with a calm contemptuousness at the white
+man's inability to rob him of the place in heaven
+that he believed his murders had made for him.
+With that smile on his lips he died.</p>
+
+<p>A sudden silence came upon the crowd. Even
+Jahi's Dyaks, scarcely restrained by their powerful
+chief before this, ceased their mutterings and looked
+with new respect on the big <i>orang blanda</i> resident.
+There were no more refusals among the Chinese.
+On instructions from Peter Gross four of them were
+left unbound to carry the body of their dead comrade
+to Bulungan. "Alive or dead," he had said.
+So it would be all understood.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2>
+
+<h3>"<span class="smcap">To Half of My Kingdom&mdash;</span>"</h3>
+
+
+<p>Captain Carver selected a cigar from
+Peter Gross's humidor and reclined in the
+most comfortable chair in the room.</p>
+
+<p>"A beastly hot day," he announced, wiping the
+perspiration from his forehead. "Regular Manila
+weather."</p>
+
+<p>"The monsoon failed us again to-day," Peter
+Gross observed.</p>
+
+<p>Carver dropped the topic abruptly. "I dropped
+over," he announced, "to see if the <i>juragan</i> talked
+any."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross glanced out of the window toward
+the jungle-crowned hills. The lines of his mouth
+were very firm.</p>
+
+<p>"He told me a great deal," he admitted.</p>
+
+<p>"About Paddy?" There was an anxious ring in
+Carver's voice.</p>
+
+<p>"About Paddy&mdash;and other things."</p>
+
+<p>"The lad's come to no harm?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is aboard Ah Sing's proa, the proa we saw
+standing out to sea when we reached the beach.
+He is safe&mdash;for the present at least. He will be useful
+to Ah Sing, the natives reverence him so highly."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God!" Carver ejaculated in a relieved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>
+voice. "We'll get him back. It may take time,
+but we'll get him."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross made no reply. He was staring steadfastly
+at the hills again.</p>
+
+<p>"Odd he didn't take you, too," Carver remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"The <i>juragan</i> told me that he intended to come
+back with a portion of his crew for me later," Peter
+Gross said. "They ran short of provisions, so
+they had to go back to the proas, and they took
+Paddy with them. Some one warned them you
+were on the march with Jahi, so they fled. Tsang
+Che, the <i>juragan</i>, says his crew was slow in taking
+on fresh water; that is how we were able to surprise
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"That explains it," Carver remarked. "I couldn't
+account for their leaving you behind."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross lapsed into silence again.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you get anything else from him, any real
+evidence?" Carver suggested presently.</p>
+
+<p>The resident roused himself with an effort.</p>
+
+<p>"A great deal. Even more than I like to believe."</p>
+
+<p>"He turned state's evidence?"</p>
+
+<p>"You might call it that."</p>
+
+<p>"You got enough to clear up this mess?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," Peter Gross replied slowly. "I would not
+say that. What he told me deals largely with past
+events, things that happened before I came here. It
+is the present with which we have to deal."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a little curious," Carver confessed.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross passed his hand over his eyes and
+leaned back.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"He told me what I have always believed. Of
+the confederation of pirates with Ah Sing at their
+head; of the agreements they have formed with
+those in authority; of where the ships have gone
+that have been reported missing from time to time
+and what became of their cargoes; of how my predecessor
+died. He made a very full and complete
+statement. I have it here, written in Dutch, and
+signed by him." Peter Gross tapped a drawer in
+his desk.</p>
+
+<p>"It compromises Van Slyck?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is a murderer."</p>
+
+<p>"Of de Jonge&mdash;your predecessor?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was his brain that planned."</p>
+
+<p>"Muller?"</p>
+
+<p>"A slaver and embezzler."</p>
+
+<p>"You're going to arrest them?" Carver scanned
+his superior's face eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet," Peter Gross dissented quietly. "We
+have only the word of a pirate so far. And it covers
+many things that happened before we came here."</p>
+
+<p>"We're waiting too long," Carver asserted dubiously.
+"We've been lucky so far; but luck will
+turn."</p>
+
+<p>"We are getting the situation in hand better
+every day. They will strike soon, their patience is
+ebbing fast; and we will have the <i>Prins</i> with us in a
+week."</p>
+
+<p>"The blow may fall before then."</p>
+
+<p>"We must be prepared. It would be folly for us
+to strike now. We have no proof except this con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>fession,
+and Van Slyck has powerful friends at
+home."</p>
+
+<p>"That reminds me," Carver exclaimed. "Maybe
+these documents will interest you. They are the
+papers Jahi found on your jailers. They seem to be
+a set of accounts, but they're Dutch to me." He
+offered the papers to Peter Gross, who unfolded
+them and began to read.</p>
+
+<p>"Are they worth anything?" Carver asked presently,
+as the resident carefully filed them in the
+same drawer in which he had placed Tsang Che's
+statement.</p>
+
+<p>"They are Ah Sing's memoranda. They tell of
+the disposition of several cargoes of ships that have
+been reported lost recently. There are no names
+but symbols. It may prove valuable some day."</p>
+
+<p>"What are your plans?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I must talk with Koyala before
+I decide. She is coming this afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross glanced out of doors at that moment
+and his face brightened. "Here she comes now," he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>Carver rose. "I think I'll be going," he declared
+gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>"Stay, captain, by all means."</p>
+
+<p>Carver shook his head. He was frowning and he
+cast an anxious glance at the resident.</p>
+
+<p>"No; I don't trust her. I'd be in the way, anyway."
+He glanced swiftly at the resident to see the
+effect of his words. Peter Gross was looking down
+the lane along which Koyala was approaching. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span>
+necklace of flowers encircled her throat and bracelets
+of blossoms hung on her arms&mdash;gardenia,
+tuberose, hill daisies, and the scarlet bloom of the
+flame-of-the-forest tree. Her hat was of woven
+nipa palm-leaves, intricately fashioned together.
+Altogether she was a most alluring picture.</p>
+
+<p>When Peter Gross looked up Carver was gone.
+Koyala entered with the familiarity of an intimate
+friend.</p>
+
+<p>"What is this I hear?" Peter Gross asked with
+mock severity. "You have been saving me from
+my enemies again."</p>
+
+<p>Koyala's smile was neither assent nor denial.</p>
+
+<p>"This is getting to be a really serious situation
+for me," he chaffed. "I am finding myself more
+hopelessly in your debt every day."</p>
+
+<p>Koyala glanced at him swiftly, searchingly. His
+frankly ingenuous, almost boyish smile evoked a
+whimsical response from her.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you going to do when I present my
+claim?" she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross spread out his palms in mock dismay.
+"Go into bankruptcy," he replied. "It's the only
+thing left for me to do."</p>
+
+<p>"My bill will stagger you," she warned.</p>
+
+<p>"You know the Persian's answer, 'All that I
+have to the half of my kingdom,'" he jested.</p>
+
+<p>"I might ask more," Koyala ventured daringly.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's face sobered. Koyala saw that,
+for some reason, her reply did not please him. A
+strange light glowed momentarily in her eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>
+Instantly controlling herself, she said in carefully
+modulated tones:</p>
+
+<p>"You sent for me, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did," Peter Gross admitted. "I must ask
+another favor of you, Koyala." The mirth was gone
+from his voice also.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" she asked quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"You know whom we have lost," Peter Gross said,
+plunging directly into the subject. "Ah Sing carried
+him away. His uncle, the boy's only living
+relative, is an old sea captain under whom I served
+for some time and a very dear friend. I promised
+him I would care for the lad. I must bring the
+boy back. You alone can help me."</p>
+
+<p>The burning intensity of Koyala's eyes moved
+even Peter Gross, unskilled as he was in the art of
+reading a woman's heart through her eyes. He felt
+vaguely uncomfortable, vaguely felt a peril he could
+not see or understand.</p>
+
+<p>"What will be my reward if I bring him back to
+you?" Koyala asked. Her tone was almost flippant.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall have whatever lies in my power as
+resident to give," Peter Gross promised gravely.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala laughed. There was a strange, jarring
+note in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I accept your offer, Mynheer Resident," she
+said. "But you should not have added those two
+words, 'as resident.'"</p>
+
+<p>Rising like a startled pheasant, she glided out of
+the door and across the plain. Peter Gross stared
+after her until she had disappeared.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">A Woman Scorned</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>It was Inchi who brought the news of Paddy's
+return. Three days after Koyala's departure
+the little Dyak lad burst breathlessly upon
+a colloquy between Peter Gross and Captain Carver
+and announced excitedly:</p>
+
+<p>"Him, Djath boy, him, <i>orang blanda</i> Djath boy,
+him come."</p>
+
+<p>"What the devil is he driving at?" Carver growled.
+The circumlocution of the south-sea islander was a
+perennial mystery to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Paddy is coming," Peter Gross cried. "Now
+get your breath, Inchi, and tell us where he is."</p>
+
+<p>His scant vocabulary exhausted, Inchi broke into
+a torrent of Dyak. By requiring the lad to repeat
+several times, Peter Gross finally understood his
+message.</p>
+
+<p>"Paddy, Koyala, and some of Koyala's Dyaks
+are coming along the mountain trail," he announced.
+"They will be here in an hour. She sent a runner
+ahead to let us know, but the runner twisted an
+ankle. Inchi found him and got the message."</p>
+
+<p>There was a wild cheer as Paddy, dusty and matted
+with perspiration, several Dyaks, and Koyala emerged
+from the banyan-grove and crossed the plain. Dis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span>cipline
+was forgotten as the entire command crowded
+around the lad.</p>
+
+<p>"I shot two Chinamans for you," Vander Esse
+announced. "An' now daat vas all unnecessary."</p>
+
+<p>"Ye can't keep a rid-head bottled up," Larry
+Malone, another member of the company, shouted
+exultingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Aye ban tank we joost get it nice quiet van you
+come back again," Anderson remarked in mock
+melancholy. The others hooted him down.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala stood apart from the crowd with her
+Dyaks and looked on. Glancing upward, Peter
+Gross noticed her, noticed, too, the childishly wistful
+look upon her face. He instantly guessed the reason&mdash;she
+felt herself apart from these people of his,
+unable to share their intimacy. Remorse smote
+him. She, to whom all their success was due, and
+who now rendered this crowning service, deserved
+better treatment. He hastened toward her.</p>
+
+<p>"Koyala," he said, his voice vibrant with the
+gratitude he felt, "how can we repay you?"</p>
+
+<p>Koyala made a weary gesture of dissent.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us not speak of that now, <i>mynheer</i>," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"But come to my home," he said. "We must
+have luncheon together&mdash;you and Captain Carver
+and Paddy and I." With a quick afterthought he
+added: "I will invite Mynheer Muller also."</p>
+
+<p>The momentary gleam of pleasure that had lit
+Koyala's face at the invitation died at the mention
+of Muller's name.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry," she said, but there was no regret in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span>
+her voice. "I must go back to my people, to Djath's
+temple and the priests. It is a long journey; I
+must start at once."</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot leave us now!" Peter Gross exclaimed
+in consternation.</p>
+
+<p>"For the present I must," she said resignedly.
+"Perhaps when the moon is once more in the full,
+I shall come back to see what you have done."</p>
+
+<p>"But we cannot do without you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is a woman so necessary?" she asked, and smiled
+sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"You are necessary to Bulungan's peace," Peter
+Gross affirmed. "Without you we can have no
+peace."</p>
+
+<p>"If you need me, send one of my people," she
+said. "I will leave him here with you. He will
+know where to find me."</p>
+
+<p>"But that may be too late," Peter Gross objected.
+His tone became very grave. "The crisis is almost
+upon us," he declared. "Ah Sing will make the
+supreme test soon&mdash;how soon I cannot say&mdash;but I
+do not think he will let very many days pass by.
+He is not accustomed to being thwarted. I shall
+need you here at my right hand to advise me."</p>
+
+<p>Koyala looked at him searchingly. The earnestness
+of his plea, the troubled look in his straight-forward,
+gray eyes fixed so pleadingly upon her,
+seemed to impress her.</p>
+
+<p>"There is a little arbor in the banyan-grove
+yonder where we can talk undisturbed," she said
+in a voice of quiet authority. "Come with me."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"We can use my office," Peter Gross offered, but
+Koyala shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"I must be on my journey. I will see you in the
+grove."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross walked beside her. He found difficulty
+in keeping the pace she set; she glided along
+like a winged thing. Koyala led him directly to the
+clearing and reclined with a sigh of utter weariness
+in the shade of a stunted nipa palm.</p>
+
+<p>"It has been a long journey," she said with a wan
+smile. "I am very tired."</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me," Peter Gross exclaimed in contrition.
+"I should not have let you go. You must
+come back with me to the residency and rest until
+to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"A half-hour's rest will be all I need," Koyala
+replied.</p>
+
+<p>"But this is no place for you," Peter Gross expostulated.</p>
+
+<p>"The jungle is my home," Koyala said with simple
+pride. "The Argus Pheasant nests in the
+thickets."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely not at night?"</p>
+
+<p>"What is there to harm me?" Koyala smiled
+wearily at his alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"But the wild beasts, the tigers, and the leopards,
+and the orang-utans in the hill districts, and the
+snakes?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are all my friends. When the tiger calls, I
+answer. If he is hungry, I keep away. I know all
+the sounds of the jungle; my grandfather, Chawa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span>tangi,
+taught them to me. I know the warning hiss
+of the snake as he glides through the grasses, I
+know the timid hoofbeat of the antelope, I know the
+stealthy rustle of the wild hogs. They and the
+jackals are the only animals I cannot trust."</p>
+
+<p>"But where do you sleep?"</p>
+
+<p>"If the night is dark and there is no moon, I cut
+a bundle of bamboo canes. I bind these with
+creepers to make a platform and hang it in a tree.
+Then I swing between heaven and earth as securely
+or more securely, than you do in your house, for I
+am safe from the malice of men. If it rains I make
+a shelter of palm-leaves on a bamboo frame. These
+things one learns quickly in the forest."</p>
+
+<p>"You wonderful woman!" Peter Gross breathed
+in admiration.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala smiled. She lay stretched out her full
+length on the ground. Peter Gross squatted beside
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't told me where you found Paddy?"
+he remarked after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that was easy," she said. "Ah Sing has a
+station a little way this side of the Sadong country&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew that he would go there. So I followed.
+When I got there Ah Sing was loading his proa with
+stores. I learned that your boy was a prisoner in
+one of the houses of his people. I went to Ah Sing
+and begged his life. I told him he was sacred to
+Djath, that the Dyaks of Bulungan thought him
+very holy indeed. Ah Sing was very angry. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>
+stormed about the loss of his proa and refused to
+listen to me. He said he would hold the boy as a
+hostage.</p>
+
+<p>"That night I went to the hut and found one of
+my people on guard. He let me in. I cut the cords
+that bound the boy, dyed his face brown and gave
+him a woman's dress. I told him to wait for me in
+the forest until he heard my cry. The guard thought
+it was me when he left."</p>
+
+<p>Her voice drooped pathetically.</p>
+
+<p>"They brought me to Ah Sing. He was very
+angry, he would have killed me, I think, if he had
+dared. He struck me&mdash;see, here is the mark."
+She drew back the sleeve of her kabaya and revealed
+a cut in the skin with blue bruises about it. Peter
+Gross became very white and his teeth closed
+together tightly.</p>
+
+<p>"That is all," she concluded.</p>
+
+<p>There was a long silence. Koyala covertly studied
+the resident's profile, so boyish, yet so masterfully
+stern, as he gazed into the forest depths. She
+could guess his thoughts, and she half-smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"When you left, I promised you that you should
+have a reward&mdash;anything that you might name and
+in my power as resident to give," Peter Gross said
+presently.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us not speak of that&mdash;yet," Koyala dissented.
+"Tell me, Mynheer Gross, do you love my
+country?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is a wonderfully beautiful country," Peter
+Gross replied enthusiastically, falling in with her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>
+mood. "A country of infinite possibilities. We
+can make it the garden spot of the world. Never
+have I seen such fertile soil as there is in the river
+bottom below us. All it needs is time and labor&mdash;and
+men with vision."</p>
+
+<p>Koyala rose to a sitting posture and leaned on
+one hand. With deft motion of the other she made
+an ineffectual effort to cover her nut-brown limbs,
+cuddled among the ferns and grasses, with the
+shortened kabaya. Very nymphlike she looked, a
+Diana of the jungle, and it was small wonder that
+Peter Gross, the indifferent to woman, gave her his
+serious attention while she glanced pensively down
+the forest aisles.</p>
+
+<p>"Men with vision!" she sighed presently. "That
+is what we have always needed. That is what we
+have always lacked. My unhappy people! Ignorant,
+and none to teach them, none to guide them
+into the better way. Leaders have come, have
+stayed a little while, and then they have gone again.
+Brooke helped us in Sarawak&mdash;now only his memory
+is left." A pause. "I suppose you will be going
+back to Java soon again, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not until my work is completed," Peter Gross
+assured gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"But that will be soon. You will crush your
+enemies. You will organize the districts and lighten
+our burdens for a while. Then you will go. A new
+resident will come. Things will slip back into the
+old rut. Our young men are hot-headed, there will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>
+be feuds, wars, piracy. There are turns in the
+wheel, but no progress for us, <i>mynheer</i>. Borneo!"
+Her voice broke with a sob, and she stole a covert
+glance at him.</p>
+
+<p>"By heaven, I swear that will not happen, Koyala,"
+Peter Gross asserted vehemently. "I shall not
+go away, I shall stay here. The governor owes me
+some reward, the least he can give me is to let me
+finish the work I have begun. I shall dedicate my
+life to Bulungan&mdash;we, Koyala, shall redeem her, we
+two."</p>
+
+<p>Koyala shook her head. Her big, sorrowful eyes
+gleamed on him for a moment through tears.</p>
+
+<p>"So you speak to-day when you are full of enthusiasm,
+<i>mynheer</i>. But when one or two years have
+passed, and you hear naught but the unending tales
+of tribal jealousies, and quarrels over buffaloes, and
+complaints about the tax, and falsehood upon falsehood,
+then your ambition will fade and you will seek
+a place to rest, far from Borneo."</p>
+
+<p>The gentle sadness of her tear-dimmed eyes, the
+melancholy cadences of her voice sighing tribulation
+like an October wind among the maples, and her
+eloquent beauty, set Peter Gross's pulses on fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Koyala," he cried, "do you think I could give
+up a cause like this&mdash;forget the work we have done
+together&mdash;to spend my days on a plantation in Java
+like a buffalo in his wallow?"</p>
+
+<p>"You would soon forget Borneo in Java, <i>mynheer</i>&mdash;and
+me."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The sweet melancholy of her plaintive smile drove
+Peter Gross to madness.</p>
+
+<p>"Forget you? You, Koyala? My right hand,
+my savior, savior thrice over, to whom I owe every
+success I have had, without whom I would have
+failed utterly, died miserably in Wobanguli's hall?
+You wonderful woman! You lovely, adorable
+woman!"</p>
+
+<p>Snatching her hands in his, he stared at her with
+a fierce hunger that was half passion, half gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>A gleam of savage exultation flashed in Koyala's
+eyes. The resident was hers. The fierce, insatiate
+craving for this moment, that had filled her heart
+ever since she first saw Peter Gross until it tainted
+every drop of blood, now raced through her veins
+like vitriol. She lowered her lids lest he read her
+eyes, and bit her tongue to choke utterance. Still
+his grasp on her hands did not relax. At last she
+asked in a low voice, that sounded strange and harsh
+even to her:</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you hold me, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>The madness of the moment was still on Peter.
+He opened his lips to speak words that flowed to
+them without conscious thought, phrases as utterly
+foreign to his vocabulary as metaphysics to a Hottentot.
+Then reason resumed her throne. Breathing
+heavily, he released her.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me, Koyala," he said humbly.</p>
+
+<p>A chill of disappointment, like an arctic wave,
+submerged Koyala. She felt the sensation of having<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span>
+what was dearest in life suddenly snatched from her.
+Her stupefaction lasted but an instant. Then the
+fury that goads a woman scorned possessed her and
+lashed on the blood-hounds of vengeance.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive you?" she spat venomously. "Forgive
+you for what? The words you did not say, just
+now, <i>orang blanda</i>, when you held these two hands?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross had risen quickly and she also sprang
+to her feet. Her face, furious with rage, was lifted
+toward his, and her two clenched fists were held
+above her fluttering bosom. Passion made her
+almost inarticulate.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive you for cozening me with sweet words of
+<i>our</i> work, and <i>our</i> mission when you despised me for
+the blood of my mother that is in me? Forgive you
+for leading me around like a pet parrot to say your
+words to my people and delude them? Forgive you
+for the ignominy you have heaped upon me, the
+shame you have brought to me, the loss of friendships
+and the laughter of my enemies?"</p>
+
+<p>"Koyala&mdash;" Peter Gross attempted, but he
+might as well have tried to stop Niagara.</p>
+
+<p>"Are these the things you seek forgiveness for?"
+Koyala shrieked. "Liar! Seducer! <i>Orang blanda!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>She spat the word as though it were something vile.
+At that moment there was a rustling in the cane
+back of Peter Gross. Bewildered, contrite, striving
+to collect his scattered wits that he might calm the
+tempest of her wrath, he did not hear it. But
+Koyala did. There was a savage exultation in her
+voice as she cried:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow the last white will be swept from
+Bulungan. But you will stay here, <i>mynheer</i>&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Hearing the footsteps behind him, Peter Gross
+whirled on his heel. But he turned too late. A bag
+was thrust over his head. He tried to tear it away,
+but clinging arms, arms as strong as his, held it
+tightly about him. A heavy vapor ascended into
+his nostrils, a vapor warm with the perfume of burning
+sandalwood and aromatic unguents and spices.
+He felt a drowsiness come upon him, struggled to
+cast it off, and yielded. With a sigh like a tired
+child's he sagged into the waiting arms and was
+lowered to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, Mynheer Muller," Koyala said.
+"Now, if you and Cho Seng will bind his legs I will
+call my Dyaks and have him carried to the house
+we have prepared for him."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Attack on the Fort</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>When Peter Gross failed to return by noon
+that day Captain Carver, becoming
+alarmed, began making inquiries. Hughes
+supplied the first clue.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw him go into the bush with the heathen
+woman while we was buzzin' Paddy," he informed
+his commander. "I ain't seen him since."</p>
+
+<p>A scouting party was instantly organized. It
+searched the banyan grove, but found nothing. One,
+of the members, an old plainsman, reported heel-marks
+on the trail, but as this was a common walk
+of the troops at the fort the discovery had no significance.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Inchi?" Captain Carver inquired.
+Search also failed to reveal the Dyak lad. As this
+disquieting news was reported, Lieutenant Banning
+was announced.</p>
+
+<p>The lieutenant, a smooth-faced, clean-cut young
+officer who had had his commission only a few years,
+explained the object of his visit without indulging
+in preliminaries.</p>
+
+<p>"One of my Java boys tells me the report is current
+in Bulungan that we are to be attacked to-morrow,"
+he announced. "A holy war has been
+preached, and all the sea Dyaks and Malays in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span>
+the residency are now marching this way, he says.
+The pirate fleet is expected here to-night. I haven't
+seen or heard of Captain Van Slyck since he left for
+Padang."</p>
+
+<p>He was plainly worried, and Carver correctly
+construed his warning as an appeal for advice and
+assistance. The captain took from his wallet the
+commission that Peter Gross had given him some
+time before.</p>
+
+<p>"Since Captain Van Slyck is absent, I may as
+well inform you that I take command of the fort by
+order of the resident," he said, giving the document
+to Banning. The lieutenant scanned it quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, captain," he remarked with a relieved
+air. His tone plainly indicated that he was glad to
+place responsibility in the crisis upon an older and
+more experienced commander. "I suppose you will
+enter the fort with your men?"</p>
+
+<p>"We shall move our stores and all our effects at
+once," Carver declared. "Are your dispositions
+made?"</p>
+
+<p>"We are always ready, captain," was the lieutenant's
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>From the roof of the residency Carver studied
+Bulungan town through field-glasses. There was an
+unwonted activity in the village, he noticed. Scanning
+the streets, he saw the unusual number of armed
+men hurrying about and grouped at street corners
+and in the market-place. At the water-front several
+small proas were hastily putting out to sea.</p>
+
+<p>"It looks as if Banning was right," he muttered.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>By sundown Carver's irregulars were stationed
+at the fort. Courtesy denominated it a fort, but in
+reality it was little more than a stockade made permanent
+by small towers of crude masonry, filled
+between with logs set on end. The elevation, however,
+gave it a commanding advantage in such an
+attack as they might expect. Peter Gross had been
+careful to supply machine-guns, and these were
+placed where they would do the most efficient service.
+Putting the Javanese at work, Carver hastily
+threw up around the fort a series of barbed-wire
+entanglements and dug trench-shelters inside. These
+operations were watched by an ever-increasing mob
+of armed natives, who kept a respectful distance
+away, however. Banning suggested a sortie in force
+to intimidate the Dyaks.</p>
+
+<p>"It would be time wasted," Carver declared.
+"We don't have to be afraid of this mob. They
+won't show teeth until the he-bear comes. We'll
+confine ourselves to getting ready&mdash;every second is
+precious."</p>
+
+<p>A searchlight was one of Carver's contributions to
+the defenses. Double sentries were posted and the
+light played the country about all night, but there
+was no alarm. When dawn broke Carver and Banning,
+up with the sun, uttered an almost simultaneous
+exclamation. A fleet of nearly thirty proas,
+laden down with fighting men, lay in the harbor.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah Sing has arrived," Banning remarked. Absent-mindedly
+he mused: "I wonder if Captain Van
+Slyck is there?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Carver had by this time mastered just enough
+Dutch to catch the lieutenant's meaning.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you know about Captain Van Slyck's
+dealings with this gang?" he demanded, looking at
+the young man fixedly.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say&mdash;that is&mdash;" Banning took refuge in
+an embarrassed silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind," Carver answered curtly. "I
+don't want you to inform against a superior officer.
+But when we get back to Batavia you'll be called
+upon to testify to what you know."</p>
+
+<p>Banning made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>Carver was at breakfast when word was brought
+him that Mynheer Muller, the <i>controlleur</i>, was at
+the gate and desired to see him. He had left orders
+that none should be permitted to enter or leave
+without special permission from the officer of the
+day. The immediate thought that Muller was
+come to propose terms of surrender occurred to him,
+and he flushed darkly. He directed that the <i>controlleur</i>
+be admitted.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Goeden-morgen, mynheer kapitein</i>," Muller greeted
+as he entered. His face was very pale, but he
+seemed to carry himself with more dignity than
+customarily, Carver noticed.</p>
+
+<p>"State your mission, <i>mynheer</i>," Carver directed
+bluntly, transfixing the <i>controlleur</i> with his stern
+gaze.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Mynheer kapitein</i>, you must fight for your lives
+to-day," Muller said. "Ah Sing is here, there are
+three thousand Dyaks and Malays below." His<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span>
+voice quavered, but he pulled himself together
+quickly. "I see you are prepared. Therefore what
+I have told you is no news to you." He paused.</p>
+
+<p>"Proceed," Carver directed curtly.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Mynheer kapitein</i>, I am here to fight and die
+with you," the <i>controlleur</i> announced.</p>
+
+<p>A momentary flash of astonishment crossed
+Carver's face. Then his suspicions were redoubled.</p>
+
+<p>"I hadn't expected this," he said, without mincing
+words. "I thought you would be on the other side."</p>
+
+<p>Muller's face reddened, but he instantly recovered.
+"There was a time when I thought so, too, <i>kapitein</i>,"
+he admitted candidly. "But I now see I was in the
+wrong. What has been done, I cannot undo. But
+I can die with you. There is no escape for you
+to-day, they are too many, and too well armed. I
+have lived a Celebes islander, a robber, and a friend
+of robbers. I can at least die a white man and a
+Hollander."</p>
+
+<p>Carver looked at him fixedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is the resident?" he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"In a hut, in the jungle."</p>
+
+<p>"In Ah Sing's hands?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is Koyala's prisoner. Ah Sing does not know
+he is there."</p>
+
+<p>"Um!" Carver grunted. The exclamation hid a
+world of meaning. It took little thought on his
+part to vision what had occurred.</p>
+
+<p>"Why aren't you with Koyala?" he asked crisply.</p>
+
+<p>Muller looked away. "She does not want me,"
+he said in a low voice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>For the first time since coming to Bulungan,
+Carver felt a trace of sympathy for Muller. He, too,
+had been disappointed in love. His tone was a
+trifle less gruff as he asked: "Can you handle a
+gun?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ja, mynheer.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"You understand you'll get a bullet through the
+head at the first sign of treachery?"</p>
+
+<p>Muller flushed darkly. "<i>Ja, mynheer</i>," he affirmed
+with quiet dignity. It was the flush that
+decided Carver.</p>
+
+<p>"Report to Lieutenant Banning," he said. "He'll
+give you a rifle."</p>
+
+<p>It was less than an hour later that the investment
+of the fort began. The Dyaks, scurrying through
+the banyan groves and bamboo thickets, enclosed
+it on the rear and landward sides. Ah Sing's pirates
+and the Malays crawled up the rise to attack it
+from the front. Two of Ah Sing's proas moved up
+the bay to shut off escape from the sea.</p>
+
+<p>An insolent demand from Ah Sing and Wobanguli
+that they surrender prefaced the hostilities.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell the Rajah and his Chinese cut-throat that
+we'll have the pleasure of hanging them," was
+Carver's reply.</p>
+
+<p>To meet the attack, Carver entrusted the
+defense of the rear and landward walls to the Dutch
+and Javanese under Banning, while he looked after
+the frontal attack, which he shrewdly guessed would
+be the most severe. Taking advantage of every
+bush and tree, and particularly the hedges that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span>
+lined the lane leading down to Bulungan, the
+Malays and pirates got within six hundred yards
+of the fort. A desultory rifle-fire was opened. It
+increased rapidly, and soon a hail of bullets began
+sweeping over the enclosure.</p>
+
+<p>"They've got magazine-rifles," Carver muttered
+to himself. "Latest pattern, too. That's what
+comes of letting traders sell promiscuously to
+natives."</p>
+
+<p>The defenders made a vigorous reply. The
+magazine-rifles were used with telling effect. Banning
+had little difficulty keeping the Dyaks back,
+but the pirates and Malays were a different race of
+fighters, and gradually crept closer in, taking advantage
+of every bit of cover that the heavily grown
+country afforded.</p>
+
+<p>As new levies of natives arrived, the fire increased
+in intensity. There were at least a thousand rifles
+in the attacking force, Carver judged, and some of
+the pirates soon demonstrated that they were able
+marksmen. An old plainsman was the first casualty.
+He was sighting along his rifle at a daring Manchu
+who had advanced within three hundred yards of
+the enclosure when a bullet struck him in the forehead
+and passed through his skull. He fell where
+he stood.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly thereafter Gibson, an ex-sailor, uttered
+an exclamation, and clapped his right hand to his
+left shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Are ye hit?" Larry Malone asked.</p>
+
+<p>"They winged me, I guess," Gibson said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Dutch medical officer hastened forward.
+"The bone's broken," he pronounced. "We'll have
+to amputate."</p>
+
+<p>"Then let me finish this fight first," Gibson retorted,
+picking up his rifle. The doctor was a soldier,
+too. He tied the useless arm in a sling, filled
+Gibson's magazine, and jogged away to other duties
+with a parting witticism about Americans who
+didn't know when to quit. There was plenty of
+work for him to do. Within the next half hour ten
+men were brought into the improvised hospital, and
+Carver, on the walls, was tugging his chin, wondering
+whether he would be able to hold the day out.</p>
+
+<p>The firing began to diminish. Scanning the
+underbrush to see what significance this might have,
+Carver saw heavy columns of natives forming. The
+first test was upon them. At his sharp command
+the reply fire from the fort ceased and every man
+filled his magazine.</p>
+
+<p>With a wild whoop the Malays and Chinese rose
+from the bush and raced toward the stockade. There
+was an answering yell from the other side as the
+Dyaks, spears and krisses waving, sprang from the
+jungle. On the walls, silence. The brown wave
+swept like an avalanche to within three hundred
+yards. The Javanese looked anxiously at their
+white leader, standing like a statue, watching the
+human tide roll toward him. Two hundred yards&mdash;a
+hundred and fifty yards. The Dutch riflemen
+began to fidget. A hundred yards. An uneasy
+murmur ran down the whole line. Fifty yards.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Carver gave the signal. Banning instantly repeated
+it. A sheet of flame leaped from the walls
+as rifles and machine-guns poured their deadly
+torrents of lead into the advancing horde. The
+first line melted away like butter before a fire.
+Their wild yells of triumph changed to frantic
+shrieks of panic, the Dyaks broke and fled for the
+protecting cover of the jungle while the guns behind
+them decimated their ranks. The Malays and
+Chinese got within ten yards of the fort before they
+succumbed to the awful fusillade, and fled and
+crawled back to shelter. A mustached Manchu
+alone reached the gate. He waved his huge kris,
+but at that moment one of Carver's company
+emptied a rifle into his chest and he fell at the very
+base of the wall.</p>
+
+<p>The attack was begun, checked, and ended within
+four minutes. Over two hundred dead and wounded
+natives and Chinese lay scattered about the plain.
+The loss within the fort had been four killed and
+five wounded. Two of the dead were from Carver's
+command, John Vander Esse and a Californian.
+As he counted his casualties, Carver's lips tightened.
+His thoughts were remarkably similar to that of the
+great Epirot: "Another such victory and I am
+undone."</p>
+
+<p>Lieutenant Banning, mopping his brow, stepped
+forward to felicitate his commanding officer.</p>
+
+<p>"They'll leave us alone for to-day, anyway," he
+predicted.</p>
+
+<p>Carver stroked his chin in silence a moment.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I don't think Ah Sing's licked so soon," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>For the next three hours there was only desultory
+firing. The great body of natives seemed to have
+departed, leaving only a sufficient force behind to
+hold the defenders in check in case they attempted
+to leave the fort. Speculation on the next step of
+the natives was soon answered. Scanning the
+harbor with his glasses, Carver detected an unwonted
+activity on the deck of one of the proas.
+He watched it closely for a few moments, then he
+uttered an exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>"They're unloading artillery," he told Lieutenant
+Banning.</p>
+
+<p>The lieutenant's lips tightened.</p>
+
+<p>"We have nothing except these old guns," he
+replied.</p>
+
+<p>"They're junk," Carver observed succinctly.
+"These proas carry Krupps, I'm told."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you going to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"We'll see whether they can handle it first. If
+they make it too hot for us&mdash;well, we'll die fighting."</p>
+
+<p>The first shell broke over the fort an hour later
+and exploded in the jungle on the other side. Twenty
+or thirty shells were wasted in this way before the
+gunner secured the range. His next effort landed
+against one of the masonry towers on the side defended
+by the Dutch. When the smoke had cleared
+away the tower lay leveled. Nine dead and wounded
+men were scattered among the ruins. A yell rose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span>
+from the natives, which the remaining Dutch
+promptly answered with a stinging volley.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold your fire," Carver directed Banning.
+"We'd better take to the trenches." These had
+been dug the day before and deepened during the
+past hour. Carver issued the necessary commands
+and the defenders, except ten pickets, concealed
+themselves in their earthen shelters.</p>
+
+<p>The gunnery of the Chinese artilleryman improved,
+and gaunt breaches were formed in the walls.
+One by one the towers crumbled. Each well-placed
+shell was signalized by cheers from the Dyaks and
+Malays. The shelling finally ceased abruptly. Carver
+and Banning surveyed the scene. A ruin of
+fallen stones and splintered logs was all that lay
+between them and the horde of over three thousand
+pirates and Malay and Dyak rebels. The natives
+were forming for a charge.</p>
+
+<p>Carver took the lieutenant's hand in his own firm
+grip.</p>
+
+<p>"This is probably the end," he said. "I'm glad
+to die fighting in such good company."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">A Woman's Heart</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Lying on the bamboo floor of the jungle hut
+which Muller had spoken of, his hands and
+feet firmly bound, and a Dyak guard armed
+with spear and kris at the door, Peter Gross thought
+over the events of his administration as resident of
+Bulungan. His thoughts were not pleasant. Shame
+filled his heart and reddened his brow as he thought
+of how confidently he had assumed his mission,
+how firmly he had believed himself to be the chosen
+instrument of destiny to restore order in the distracted
+colony and punish those guilty of heinous
+crimes, and how arrogantly he had rejected the sage
+advice of his elders.</p>
+
+<p>He recollected old Sachsen's warning and his own
+impatient reply&mdash;the event that he deemed so preposterous
+at that time and old Sachsen had foreseen
+had actually come to pass. He had fallen
+victim to Koyala's wiles. And she had betrayed
+him. Bitterly he cursed his stupid folly, the folly
+that had led him to enter the jungle with her, the
+folly of that mad moment when temptation had
+assailed him where man is weakest.</p>
+
+<p>In his bitter self-excoriation he had no thought of
+condemnation for her. The fault was his, he vehe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span>mently
+assured himself, lashing himself with the
+scorpions of self-reproach. She was what nature
+and the sin of her father had made her, a child of
+two alien, unincorporable races, a daughter of the
+primitive, wild, untamed, uncontrolled, loving
+fiercely, hating fiercely, capable of supremest sacrifice,
+capable, too, of the most fiendish cruelty.</p>
+
+<p>He had taken this creature and used her for his
+own ends, he had praised her, petted her, treated
+her as an equal, companion, and helpmate. Then,
+when that moment of madness was upon them both,
+he had suddenly wounded her acutely sensitive,
+bitterly proud soul by drawing the bar sinister. How
+she must have suffered! He winced at the thought
+of the pain he had inflicted. She could not be
+blamed, no, the fault was his, he acknowledged. He
+should have considered that he was dealing with a
+creature of flesh and blood, a woman with youth,
+and beauty, and passion. If he, who so fondly
+dreamed that his heart was marble, could fall so
+quickly and so fatally, could he censure her?</p>
+
+<p>Carver, too, had warned him. Not once, but
+many times, almost daily. He had laughed at the
+warnings, later almost quarreled. What should he
+say if he ever saw Carver again? He groaned.</p>
+
+<p>There was a soft swish of skirts. Koyala stood
+before him. She gazed at him coldly. There was
+neither hate nor love in her eyes, only indifference.
+In her hand she held a dagger. Peter Gross returned
+her gaze without flinching.</p>
+
+<p>"You are my prisoner, <i>orang blanda</i>," she said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span>
+"Mine only. This hut is mine. We are alone here,
+in the jungle, except for one of my people."</p>
+
+<p>"You may do with me as you will, Koyala,"
+Peter Gross replied weariedly.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala started, and looked at him keenly.</p>
+
+<p>"I have come to carry you away," she announced.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross looked at her in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"But first there are many things that we must talk
+about," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross rose to a sitting posture. "I am
+listening," he announced.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala did not reply at once. She was gazing
+fixedly into his eyes, those frank, gray eyes that
+had so often looked clearly and honestly into hers
+as he enthusiastically spoke of their joint mission
+in Bulungan. A half-sob broke in her throat, but
+she restrained it fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you remember, <i>mynheer</i>, when we first met?"
+she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"It was at the mouth of the Abbas River, was it
+not? At Wolang's village?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you laugh at me then?" she exclaimed
+fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross looked at her in astonishment. "I
+laughed at you?" he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, on the beach. When I told you you must
+go. You laughed. Do not deny it, you laughed!"
+The fierce intensity of her tone betrayed her feeling.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross shook his head while his gaze met hers
+frankly. "I do not recollect," he said. "I surely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span>
+did not laugh at you&mdash;I do not know what it was&mdash;"
+A light broke upon him. "Ay, to be sure, I
+remember, now. It was a Dyak boy with a mountain
+goat. He was drinking milk from the teats.
+Don't you recall?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are trying to deceive me," Koyala cried
+angrily. "You laughed because&mdash;because&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"As God lives, it is the truth!"</p>
+
+<p>Koyala placed the point of her dagger over Peter
+Gross's heart.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Orang blanda</i>," she said, "I have sworn to kill
+you if you lie to me in any single particular to-day.
+I did not see that whereof you speak. There was no
+boy, no goat. Quick now, the truth, if you would
+save your life."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross met her glance fearlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"I have told you why I laughed, Koyala," he
+replied. "I can tell you nothing different."</p>
+
+<p>The point of the dagger pricked the resident's
+skin.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you would rather die?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross merely stared at her. Koyala drew a
+deep breath and drew back the blade.</p>
+
+<p>"First we shall talk of other things," she said.</p>
+
+<p>At that moment the rattle of rifle-fire reached
+Peter Gross's ears.</p>
+
+<p>"What is that?" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala laughed, a low laugh of exultation. "That,
+<i>mynheer</i>, is the children of Bulungan driving the
+white peccaries from Borneo."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ah Sing has attacked?" Peter Gross could not
+help, in his excitement, letting a note of his dismay
+sound in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah Sing and his pirates," Koyala cried triumphantly.
+"Wobanguli and the warriors of Bulungan.
+Lkath and his Sadong Dyaks. The Malays
+from the coast towns. All Bulungan except the hill
+people. They are all there, as many as the sands of
+the seashore, and they have the <i>orang blanda</i> from
+Holland, and the Javanese, and the loud-voiced
+<i>orang blanda</i> that you brought with you, penned in
+Van Slyck's kampong. None will escape."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God Carver's in the fort," Peter Gross
+ejaculated.</p>
+
+<p>"But they cannot escape," Koyala insisted
+fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall see," Peter Gross replied. Great as
+were the odds, he felt confident of Carver's ability
+to hold out a few days anyway. He had yet to
+learn of the artillery Ah Sing commanded.</p>
+
+<p>"Not one shall escape," Koyala reiterated, the
+tigerish light glowing in her eyes. "Ah Sing has
+pledged it to me, Wobanguli has pledged it to me, the
+last <i>orang blanda</i> shall be driven from Bulungan."
+She clutched the hilt of her dagger fiercely&mdash;.</p>
+
+<p>Amazed at her vehemence, Peter Gross watched
+the shifting display of emotion on her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Koyala," he said, suddenly, "why do you hate
+us whites so?"</p>
+
+<p>He shrank before the fierce glance she cast at him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Is there any need to ask?" she cried violently.
+"Did I not tell you the first day we met, when I
+told you I asked no favors of you, and would accept
+none? What have you and your race brought to
+my people and to me but misery, and more misery?
+You came with fair promises, how have you fulfilled
+them? In the <i>orang blanda</i> way, falsehood
+upon falsehood, taking all, giving none. Why don't
+I kill you now, when I have you in my power, when
+I have only to drop my hand thus&mdash;" she flashed
+the dagger at Peter Gross's breast&mdash;"and I will be
+revenged? Why? Because I was a fool, white
+man, because I listened to your lies and believed
+when all my days I have sworn I would not. So I
+have let you live, unless&mdash;" She did not finish the
+thought, but stood in rigid attention, listening to the
+increasing volume of rifle-fire.</p>
+
+<p>"They are wiping it out in blood there," she said
+softly to herself, "the wrongs of Bulungan, what
+my unhappy country has suffered from the <i>orang
+blanda</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's head was bowed humbly.</p>
+
+<p>"I have wronged you," he said humbly. "But,
+before God, I did it in ignorance. I thought you
+understood&mdash;I thought you worked with me for
+Bulungan and Bulungan only, with no thought of
+self. So I worked. Yet somehow, my plans went
+wrong. The people did not trust me. I tried to
+relieve them of unjust taxes. They would not let
+me take the census. I tried to end raiding. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span>
+were always disorders and I could not find the guilty.
+I found a murderer for Lkath, among his own people,
+yet he drove me away. I cannot understand it."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know why?" Koyala exclaimed exultingly.
+"Do you know why you failed? It was
+I&mdash;I&mdash;I, who worked against you. The <i>orang
+kayas</i> sent their runners to me and said: 'Shall we
+give the <i>controlleur</i> the count of our people?' and I
+said: 'No, Djath forbids.' To the Rajahs and Gustis
+I said: 'Let there be wars, we must keep the ancient
+valor of our people lest they become like the
+Javanese, a nation of slaves.' You almost tricked
+Lkath into taking the oath. But in the night I
+went to him and said: 'Shall the vulture rest in the
+eagle's nest?' and he drove you away."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross stared at her with eyes that saw not.
+The house of his faith was crumbling into ruins,
+yet he scarcely realized it himself, the revelation of
+her perfidy had come so suddenly. He groped
+blindly for salvage from the wreck, crying:</p>
+
+<p>"But you saved my life&mdash;three times!"</p>
+
+<p>She saw his suffering and smiled. So she had been
+made to suffer, not once, but a thousand times.</p>
+
+<p>"That was because I had sworn the revenge
+should be mine, not Ah Sing's or any one else's,
+<i>orang blanda</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross lowered his face in the shadow. He
+did not care to have her see how great had been his
+disillusionment, how deep was his pain.</p>
+
+<p>"You may do with me as you will, <i>juffrouw</i>," he
+said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Koyala looked at him strangely a moment, then
+rose silently and left the hut. Peter Gross never
+knew the reason. It was because at that moment,
+when she revealed her Dyak treachery and uprooted
+his faith, he spoke to her as he would to a white
+woman&mdash;"<i>juffrouw</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"They are holding out yet," Peter Gross said to
+himself cheerfully some time later as the sound of
+scattered volleys was wafted over the hills. Presently
+he heard the dull boom of the first shell.
+His face paled.</p>
+
+<p>"That is artillery!" he exclaimed. "Can it
+be&mdash;?" He remembered the heavy guns on the
+proas and his face became whiter still. He began
+tugging at his bonds, but they were too firmly
+bound. His Dyak guard looked in and grinned, and
+he desisted. As time passed and the explosions continued
+uninterruptedly, his face became haggard
+and more haggard. It was because of his folly, he
+told himself, that men were dying there&mdash;brave
+Carver, so much abler and more foresighted than he,
+the ever-cheerful Paddy, all those he had brought
+with him, good men and true. He choked.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the shell-fire ceased. Peter Gross knew
+what it meant, in imagination he saw the columns
+of natives forming, column upon column, all that
+vast horde of savages and worse than savages let
+loose on a tiny square of whites.</p>
+
+<p>A figure stood in the doorway. It was Koyala.
+Cho Seng stood beside her.</p>
+
+<p>"The walls are down," she cried triumphantly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span>
+"There is only a handful of them left. The people
+of Bulungan are now forming for the charge. In a
+few minutes you will be the only white man left in
+Bulungan."</p>
+
+<p>"I and Captain Van Slyck," Peter Gross said
+scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>"He is dead," Koyala replied. "Ah Sing killed
+him. He was of no further use to us, why should he
+live?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross's lips tightened grimly. The traitor,
+at least, had met the death he merited.</p>
+
+<p>Cho Seng edged nearer. Peter Gross noticed the
+dagger hilt protruding from his blouse.</p>
+
+<p>"Has my time come, too?" he asked calmly.</p>
+
+<p>The Chinaman leaped on him. "Ah Sing sends
+you this," he cried hoarsely&mdash;the dagger flashed.</p>
+
+<p>Quick as he was, quick as a tiger striking its prey,
+the Argus Pheasant was quicker. As the dagger
+descended, Koyala caught him by the wrist. He
+struck her with his free hand and tried to tear the
+blade away. Then his legs doubled under him, for
+Peter Gross, although his wrists were bound, could use
+his arms. Cho Seng fell on the point of the dagger,
+that buried itself to the hilt in the fleshy part of his
+breast. With a low groan he rolled over. His eyeballs
+rolled glassily upward, thick, choked sounds
+came from his throat&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Ah Sing&mdash;comeee&mdash;for Koyala&mdash;plenty quick&mdash;"
+With a sigh, he died.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross looked at the Argus Pheasant. She
+was gazing dully at a tiny scratch on her forearm,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span>
+a scratch made by Cho Seng's dagger. The edges
+were purplish.</p>
+
+<p>"The dagger was poisoned," she murmured dully.
+Her glance met her prisoner's and she smiled wanly.</p>
+
+<p>"I go to <i>Sangjang</i> with you, <i>mynheer</i>," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross staggered to his knees and caught her
+arm. Before she comprehended what he intended
+to do he had his lips upon the cut and was sucking
+the blood. A scarlet tide flooded her face, then
+fled, leaving her cheeks with the pallor of death.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," she cried, choking, and tried to tear
+her arm away. But in Peter Gross's firm grasp she
+was like a child. After a frantic, futile struggle she
+yielded. Her face was bloodless as a corpse and
+she stared glassily at the wall.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Peter Gross released her.</p>
+
+<p>"It was only a scratch," he said gently. "I
+think we have gotten rid of the poison."</p>
+
+<p>The sound of broken sobbing was his only answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Koyala," he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>With a low moan she ran out of the hut, leaving
+him alone with the dead body of the Chinaman,
+already bloated purple.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross listened again. Only the ominous
+silence from the hills, the silence that foretold the
+storm. He wondered where Koyala was and his
+heart became hot as he recollected Cho Seng's farewell
+message that Ah Sing was coming. Well, Ah
+Sing would find him, find him bound and helpless.
+The pirate chief would at last have his long-sought
+revenge. For some inexplicable reason he felt glad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span>
+that Koyala was not near. The jungle was her
+best protection, he knew.</p>
+
+<p>A heavy explosion cut short his reveries. "They
+are cannonading again," he exclaimed in surprise,
+but as another terrific crash sounded a moment
+later, his face became glorified. Wild cries of terror
+sounded over the hills, Dyak cries, mingled with the
+shrieking of shrapnel&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It's the <i>Prins</i>," Peter Gross exclaimed jubilantly.
+"Thank God, Captain Enckel came on time."</p>
+
+<p>He tugged at his own bonds in a frenzy of hope,
+exerting all his great strength to strain them sufficiently
+to permit him to slip one hand free. But
+they were too tightly bound. Presently a shadow
+fell over him. He looked up with a start, expecting
+to see the face of the Chinese arch-murderer, Ah
+Sing. Instead it was Koyala.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me help you," she said huskily. With a
+stroke of her dagger she cut the cord. Another
+stroke cut the bonds that tied his feet. He sprang
+up, a free man.</p>
+
+<p>"Hurry, Koyala," he cried, catching her by the
+arm. "Ah Sing may be here any minute."</p>
+
+<p>Koyala gently disengaged herself.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah Sing is in the jungle, far from here," she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>A silence fell upon them both. Her eyes, averted
+from his, sought the ground. He stood by, struggling
+for adequate expression.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going, Koyala?" he finally asked.
+She had made no movement to go.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Wherever you will, <i>mynheer</i>," she replied quietly.
+"I am now your prisoner."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross stared a moment in astonishment.
+"My prisoner?" he repeated. "Nonsense."</p>
+
+<p>"Your people have conquered, <i>mynheer</i>," she
+said. "Mine are in flight. Therefore I have come
+to surrender myself&mdash;to you."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not ask your surrender," Peter Gross,
+replied gravely, beginning to understand.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not ask it, <i>mynheer</i>, but some one must
+suffer for what has happened. Some one must pay
+the victor's price. I am responsible, I incited my
+people. So I offer myself&mdash;they are innocent and
+should not be made to suffer."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah Sing is responsible," Peter Gross said firmly.
+"And I."</p>
+
+<p>"You, <i>mynheer</i>?" The question came from Koyala's
+unwilling lips before she realized it.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I, <i>juffrouw</i>. It is best that we forget what
+has happened&mdash;I must begin my work over again."
+He closed his lips firmly, there were lines of pain in
+his face. "That is," he added heavily, "if his excellency
+will permit me to remain here after this
+fiasco."</p>
+
+<p>"You will stay here?" Koyala asked incredulously.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And you, <i>juffrouw</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>A moment's silence. "My place is with my people&mdash;if
+you do not want me as hostage, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross took a step forward and placed a hand
+on her shoulder. She trembled violently.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I have a better work for you, <i>juffrouw</i>," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes lifted slowly to meet his. There was
+mute interrogation in the glance.</p>
+
+<p>"To help me make Bulungan peaceful and prosperous,"
+he said.</p>
+
+<p>Koyala shook herself free and walked toward the
+door. Peter Gross did not molest her. She stood
+on the threshold, one hesitating foot on the jungle
+path that led to the grove of big banyans. For
+some minutes she remained there. Then she slowly
+turned and reëntered the hut.</p>
+
+<p>"Mynheer Gross," she said, in a choking voice,
+"before I met you I believed that all the <i>orang
+blanda</i> were vile. I hated the white blood that was
+in me, many times I yearned to take it from me,
+drop by drop, many times I stood on the edge of
+precipices undecided whether to let it nourish my
+body longer or no. Only one thing kept me from
+death, the thought that I might avenge the wrongs
+of my unhappy country and my unhappy mother."</p>
+
+<p>A stifled sob shook her. After a moment or two
+she resumed:</p>
+
+<p>"Then you came. I prayed the Hanu Token to
+send a young man, a young man who would desire
+me, after the manner of white men. When I saw
+you I knew you as the man of the Abbas, the man
+who had laughed, and I thought the Hanu Token
+had answered my prayer. I saved you from Wobanguli,
+I saved you from Ah Sing, that you might be
+mine, mine only to torture." Her voice broke again.</p>
+
+<p>"But you disappointed me. You were just, you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span>
+were kind, righteous in all your dealings, considerate
+of me. You did not seek to take me in your
+arms, even when I came to you in your own dwelling.
+You did not taunt me with my mother like that pig,
+Van Slyck&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He is dead," Peter Gross interrupted gently.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no sorrow for him. <i>Sangjang</i> has waited
+over-long for him. Now you come to me, after all
+that has happened, and say: 'Koyala, will you forget
+and help me make Bulungan happy?' What
+shall I answer, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him humbly, entreatingly. Peter
+Gross smiled, his familiar, confident, warming smile.</p>
+
+<p>"What your conscience dictates, Koyala."</p>
+
+<p>She breathed rapidly. At last came her answer,
+a low whisper. "If you wish it, I will help you,
+<i>mynheer</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross reached out his hand and caught hers.
+"Then we're pards again," he cried.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Governor's Promise</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Peter Gross had just concluded an account
+of his administration in Bulungan to Governor-General
+Van Schouten at the latter's
+<i>paleis</i> in Batavia. The governor-general was
+frowning.</p>
+
+<p>"So! <i>mynheer</i>," he exclaimed gruffly. "This is
+not a very happy report you have brought me."</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross bent his head.</p>
+
+<p>"No census, not a cent of taxes paid, piracy,
+murders, my <i>controlleurs</i>&mdash;God knows where they
+are, the whole province in revolt. This is a nice
+kettle of fish."</p>
+
+<p>Sachsen glanced sympathetically at Peter Gross.
+The lad he loved so well sat with bowed head and
+clenched hands, lines of suffering marked his face,
+he had grown older, oh, so much older, during those
+few sorry months since he had so confidently declared
+his policies for the regeneration of the residency
+in this very room. The governor was speaking
+again.</p>
+
+<p>"You said you would find Mynheer de Jonge's
+murderer for me," Van Schouten rasped. "Have
+you done that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, your excellency. It was Kapitein Van
+Slyck who planned the deed, and Cho Seng who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span>
+committed the act, pricked him with a upas thorn
+while he slept, as I told your excellency. Here are
+my proofs. A statement made by Mynheer Muller
+to Captain Carver and Lieutenant Banning before
+he died, and a statement made by Koyala to me."
+He gave the governor the documents. The latter
+scanned them briefly and laid them aside.</p>
+
+<p>"How did Muller come to his death?" he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"Like a true servant of the state, fighting in defense
+of the fort," Peter Gross replied. "A splinter
+of a shell struck him in the body."</p>
+
+<p>"H-m!" the governor grunted. "I thought he
+was one of these traitors, too."</p>
+
+<p>"He expiated his crimes two weeks ago at Fort
+Wilhelmina, your excellency."</p>
+
+<p>"And Cho Seng?" the governor demanded. "Is
+he still alive?"</p>
+
+<p>"He fell on his own dagger." Peter Gross described
+the incident. "It was not the dagger thrust
+that killed him," he explained. "That made only a
+flesh wound. But the dagger point had been
+dipped in a cobra's venom." Softly he added:
+"He always feared that he would die from a snake's
+poison."</p>
+
+<p>"It is the judgment of God," Van Schouten pronounced
+solemnly. He looked at Peter Gross
+sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Now this Koyala," he asked, "where is she?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know. In the hills, among her own
+people, I think. She will not trouble you again."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The governor stared at his resident. Gradually
+the stern lines of his face relaxed and a quaintly
+humorous glint came into his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"So, Mynheer Gross, the woman deceived you?"
+he asked sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Gross made no reply. The governor's
+eyes twinkled. He suddenly brought down his
+fist on the table with a resounding bang.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Donder en bliksem!</i>" he exclaimed, "I cannot
+find fault with you for that. The fault is mine. I
+should have known better. Why, when I was your
+age, a pretty woman could strip the very buttons
+from my dress coat&mdash;dammit, Mynheer Gross, you
+must have had a heart of ice to withstand her so
+long."</p>
+
+<p>He flourished a highly colored silk handkerchief
+and blew his nose lustily.</p>
+
+<p>"So you are forgiven on that count, Mynheer
+Gross. Now for the other. It appears that by
+your work you have created a much more favorable
+feeling toward us among many of the natives. The
+hill Dyaks did not rise against us as they have always
+done before, and some of the coast Dyak tribes were
+loyal. That buzzard, Lkath, stayed in his lair.
+Furthermore, you have solved the mysteries that
+have puzzled us for years and the criminals have been
+muzzled. Lastly, you were the honey that attracted
+all these piratical pests into Bulungan harbor where
+Kapitein Enckel was able to administer them a blow
+that will sweep those seas clear of this vermin for
+years to come, I believe. You have not done so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span>
+badly after all, Mynheer Gross. Of course, you and
+your twenty-five men might have come to grief had
+not Sachsen, here, heard reports that caused me to
+send the <i>Prins Lodewyk</i> post-haste to Bulungan,
+but we will overlook your too great confidence on
+the score of your youth." He chuckled. "Now as
+to the future."</p>
+
+<p>He paused and looked smilingly into the eyes that
+looked so gratefully into his.</p>
+
+<p>"What say you to two more years at Bulungan,
+<i>mynheer</i>, to straighten out affairs there, work out
+your policies, and finish what you have so ably
+begun?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your excellency is too good," Peter Gross murmured
+brokenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Good!" Van Schouten snapped. "<i>Donder en
+bliksem, mynheer</i>, it is only that I know a man when
+I see him. Can you go back next week?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, your excellency."</p>
+
+<p>"Then see that you do. And see to it that those
+devils send me some rice this year when the tax falls
+due or I will hang them all in the good, old-fashioned
+way."</p>
+
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The End</span></h4>
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/ad01.png" width="450" height="717" alt="The Big Fight" title="" />
+<span class="caption">The Big Fight</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/ad02.png" width="450" height="1325" alt="Capt. David Fallon M.C." title="" />
+<span class="caption">Capt. David Fallon M.C.</span>
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p>Few soldiers in this great war
+have been through adventures
+more thrilling, dramatic and perilous
+than fell to the lot of Captain David
+Fallon.</p>
+
+<p>He is a young Irishman whose first
+fighting was against the hillmen in
+their uprisings in India. He received
+the Indian Field Medal.</p>
+
+<p>The opening of the war found him
+physical instructor and bayonet drill
+master at the Royal Military College,
+Duntroon, New South Wales.
+He went through the entire, terrible
+Gallipoli campaign.</p>
+
+<p>He was in scores of fierce trench
+battles.</p>
+
+<p>He commanded a tank in an amazing
+war adventure.</p>
+
+<p>He has served as an aërial observer,
+spotted enemy positions and fought
+enemy aeroplanes.</p>
+
+<p>On the road to Thiepval with a shoulder
+smashed by shrapnel he remained
+in command of his men behind barricades
+made of the dead and for
+twenty-two hours held off the Germans
+until reinforcements arrived.</p>
+
+<p>On scout duty he frequently penetrated
+German trenches and gun
+positions in the night.</p>
+
+<p>A bomb duel with a German patrol
+when he was detected in their
+trenches brought him irreparable
+injury.</p>
+
+<p>He lay for three days in the mud of a
+shellhole in the enemy country with
+his right arm blasted, his upper jaw
+broken, his face and shoulders
+burned, but survived and managed
+to escape.</p>
+
+<p>He was awarded the Military Cross
+for daring and valuable service to
+his King.</p>
+
+<p>You will probably hear Captain Fallon
+lecture, but his book is something
+you will wish to keep. It is
+historical and every word rings true.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
+<h2>THE WAR BOOK WITH A THRILL</h2>
+
+<h3>SPECIMEN CHAPTER</h3>
+
+<p class="center">CHAPTER XII</p>
+
+<p class="center">"<span class="smcap">Razzle Dazzle</span>"</p>
+
+
+<p>It was at Beaumont-Hamel, about September
+16th, that I got my chance to command a
+"tank."</p>
+
+<p>The dear girl was named "Razzle Dazzle."
+She was very young, having been in service only
+three months, but rather portly. Matter of
+fact, she weighed something over thirty tons.
+And in no way could you call the dear little
+woman pretty. She was a pallid gray and mud-splashed
+when I got her and there was no grace
+in the bulging curves of her steel shape. Or of
+her conical top. Or her ponderous wheels.</p>
+
+<p>The fact is that she showed every aspect
+of being a bad, scrappy old dearie. The minute
+I saw her in her lovely ugliness I knew she
+would like trouble and lots of it. Her metabolism
+was a marvel. She carried a six-hundred-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span>horse-power
+motor. And out of her gray steel
+hoods protruded eight guns. An infernal old
+girl, you can bet she was. All ready to make
+battle in large quantities.</p>
+
+<p>When I boarded "Razzle Dazzle" she
+was full of dents. She had rocked around
+among several trench charges. But the reason
+for my assignment to her was prosaic. Her
+captain had not been killed. He was just sick&mdash;some
+stomach complaint. I was drafted on
+an hour's notice to the job, this, because of
+long training in handling rapid-fire guns.</p>
+
+<p>It was all new to me, but highly interesting.
+My crew consisted of seven men&mdash;five of them
+well experienced. And a black cat. Although
+she was a lady-cat she had been named
+"Joffre" and I can't tell you why because I
+never received any explanation on this point myself.
+But "Joffre" was very friendly and insisted
+on sitting either on my knee or shoulder
+from the moment I sealed myself and my men
+in the tank. We had our outlook from several
+periscopes above the turret and from spy holes
+in the turret itself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The order had come to me about one in the
+morning, and it was nearly three when we
+started lumbering out toward the enemy
+trenches. We had about six hundred yards to
+cover. I knew little or nothing of her motor
+power or speed. My concern was with the efficiency
+of the guns. She pumped and swayed
+"across No Man's Land" at about four miles
+an hour. She groaned and tossed a great deal.
+And in fact, made such poor progress that my
+regiment, the Oxfords and Bucks, beat the old
+dearie to the enemy lines. Our men were
+among the barbed wire of the first line, fighting
+it, cutting it, knocking it down before the old
+"Razzle Dazzle" got into action.</p>
+
+<p>But she "carried on" just the same. And
+when she smote the barbed-wire obstacles, she
+murdered them. She crushed those barriers to
+what looked like messes of steel spaghetti.</p>
+
+<p>Instead of sinking into trenches as I feared
+she would, she crushed them and continued to
+move forward. Of course, we were letting go
+everything we had, and from my observation
+hole, I could see the Germans didn't like it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>They had put up something of a stand against
+the infantry. But against the tank they were
+quick to make their farewells. It was a still
+black night, but under the star-shells we could
+see them scurrying out of our way.</p>
+
+<p>This was very sensible of them because we
+were certainly making a clean sweep of everything
+in sight and had the earth ahead throwing
+up chocolate showers of spray as if the
+ground we rode was an angry sea of mud.</p>
+
+<p>Every man in the tank was shouting and
+yelling with the excitement of the thing and we
+were tossed up against each other like loosened
+peas in a pod. Only Joffre remained perfectly
+cool. Somehow she maintained a firm seat on
+my swaying shoulder and as I glanced around
+to peer at her she was calmly licking a paw
+and then daintily wiped her face.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly out of a very clever camouflage of
+tree branches and shrubbery a German machine-gun
+emplacement was revealed. The bullets
+stormed and rattled upon the tank. But they
+did themselves a bad turn by revealing their
+whereabouts, for we made straight for the
+camouflage and went over that battery of machine
+guns, crunching its concrete foundation as
+if it were chalk.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;">
+<img src="images/samp01.png" width="650" height="450" alt="&quot;British blood is calling British blood&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;British blood is calling British blood&quot;</span>
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then we turned about and from our new position
+put the Germans under an enfilade fire
+that we kept up until every evidence was at hand
+that the Oxfords and Bucks and supporting battalions
+were holding the trenches.</p>
+
+<p>But this was only preliminary work cut out
+for the tank to do. I had special instructions
+and a main objective. This was a sugar refinery.
+It was a one-storied building of brick and
+wood with a tiled roof. It had been established
+as a sugar refinery by the Germans before the
+war and when this occasion arose blossomed as
+a fortress with a gun aimed out of every window.</p>
+
+<p>To allow it to remain standing in hostile
+hands would mean that the trenches we had
+won could be constantly battered. Its removal
+was most desirable. To send infantry against
+it would have involved huge losses in life. The
+tank was deemed the right weapon.</p>
+
+<p>It was.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 646px;">
+<img src="images/samp02.png" width="646" height="450" alt="Cleaning Mills bombs" title="" />
+<span class="caption">Cleaning Mills bombs</span>
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And largely because "Razzle Dazzle" took
+matters into her own hands. The truth is she
+ran away.</p>
+
+<p>We rocked and plowed out of the trenches
+and went swaying toward the refinery. I
+ordered the round-top sealed. And we beat
+the refinery to the attack with our guns. But
+they had seen us coming and every window
+facing our way developed a working gun. There
+were about sixteen such windows. They all
+blazed at us.</p>
+
+<p>My notion had been to circle the "sugar mill",
+with "Razzle Dazzle" and shoot it up from all
+sides. We were getting frightfully rapped by
+the enemy fire, but there was apparently nothing
+heavy enough to split the skin of the wild, old
+girl. Our own fire was effective. We knocked
+out all the windows and the red-tiled roof was
+sagging. As I say, my notion was to circle the
+"mill" and I gave orders accordingly. But the
+"Razzle Dazzle's" chauffeur looked at me in
+distress.</p>
+
+<p>"The steering gear's off, sir," said he.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Stop her then and we'll let them have it
+from here," I ordered.</p>
+
+<p>He made several frantic motions with the
+mechanism and said:</p>
+
+<p>"I can't stop her, either."</p>
+
+<p>And the "Razzle Dazzle" carried out her
+own idea of attack. She banged head-on into
+the "mill." She went right through a wide
+doorway, making splinters of the door, she
+knocked against concrete pillars, supports and
+walls, smashing everything in her way and
+bowled out of the other side just as the roof
+crashed in and apparently crushed and smothered
+all the artillery men beneath it.</p>
+
+<p>On the way through, the big, powerful old
+girl bucked and rocked and reared until we men
+and the black cat inside her were thrown again
+and again into a jumble, the cat scratching us
+like a devil in her frenzy of fear.</p>
+
+<p>Closed up in the tank as we were, we
+could hear the roar and crash of the falling
+"mill," and from my observation port-hole I
+could observe that it was most complete. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span>
+place had been reduced to a mere heap. Not a
+shot came out of it at us.</p>
+
+<p>But still the "Razzle Dazzle" was having
+her own way. Her motorist was signaling me
+that he had no control of her. This was cheerful
+intelligence because right ahead was a huge
+shell crater. She might slide into it and climb
+up the other side and out. I hoped so. But
+she didn't. She hit the bottom of the pit, tried
+to push her way up and out, fell back, panted,
+pushed up again, fell back and then just stuck
+at the bottom of the well, throbbing and moaning
+and maybe penitent for her recklessness.</p>
+
+<p>Penitence wasn't to do her any good. It
+wasn't five minutes later when the Germans had
+the range of her and began smashing us with
+big shells. I ordered my men to abandon her
+and led them in a rush out of the crater and
+into small shell holes until the storm of fire was
+past.</p>
+
+<p>When it was, "Razzle Dazzle" was a wreck.
+She was cracked, distorted and shapeless. But
+the runaway engine was still plainly to be heard
+throbbing. Finally a last big shell sailed into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span>
+doughty tank and there was a loud bang and a
+flare. Her oil reservoir shot up in an enormous
+blaze.</p>
+
+<p>"Razzle Dazzle" was no more. But she had
+accounted for the "refinery." And our infantry
+had done the rest. The German position was
+ours.</p>
+
+<p>I was all enthusiasm for fighting "tanks."
+But my superiors squelched it. For when I
+asked for command of a sister of "Razzle
+Dazzle" next day, a cold-eyed aide said to me:</p>
+
+<p>"One tank, worth ten thousand pounds, is as
+much as any bally young officer may expect to
+be given to destroy during his lifetime. Good
+afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>He never gave me a chance to explain that
+it was "Razzle Dazzle's" own fault, how she
+had taken things into her own willful control.
+But he did try to give me credit for what
+"Razzle Dazzle" had herself accomplished.
+He said the destruction of the "sugar mill" had
+been "fine work."</p>
+
+<p>I wonder what "Joffre" thought of it all. I
+don't remember seeing her when we fled from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span>
+the "tank," except as something incredibly swift
+and black flashed past my eyes as we thrust up
+the lid. I sincerely hope she is alive and
+well "somewhere in France."</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p>"THE BIG FIGHT" is over 300 pages long and
+is the most interesting of war books. Some books
+are made to read and forget; others to read and
+to keep. "THE BIG FIGHT" belongs to the
+latter class.</p>
+
+<p>Why not order a copy to-day?</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 647px;">
+<img src="images/samp03.png" width="647" height="450" alt="In the supports, waiting to advance" title="" />
+<span class="caption">In the supports, waiting to advance</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/samp04.png" width="450" height="1001" alt="The Military Cross" title="" />
+<span class="caption">The Military Cross</span>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Argus Pheasant, by John Charles Beecham
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGUS PHEASANT ***
+
+***** This file should be named 37215-h.htm or 37215-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/2/1/37215/
+
+Produced by Katie Hernandez, Suzanne Shell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+
+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/37215-h/images/ad01.png b/37215-h/images/ad01.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2d64a42
--- /dev/null
+++ b/37215-h/images/ad01.png
diff --git a/37215-h/images/ad02.png b/37215-h/images/ad02.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..98dfc1d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/37215-h/images/ad02.png
diff --git a/37215-h/images/cover.png b/37215-h/images/cover.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1237c8a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/37215-h/images/cover.png
diff --git a/37215-h/images/frontis.png b/37215-h/images/frontis.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7408743
--- /dev/null
+++ b/37215-h/images/frontis.png
diff --git a/37215-h/images/samp01.png b/37215-h/images/samp01.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..63e192e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/37215-h/images/samp01.png
diff --git a/37215-h/images/samp02.png b/37215-h/images/samp02.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bfacf95
--- /dev/null
+++ b/37215-h/images/samp02.png
diff --git a/37215-h/images/samp03.png b/37215-h/images/samp03.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ccf02f8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/37215-h/images/samp03.png
diff --git a/37215-h/images/samp04.png b/37215-h/images/samp04.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..182a4d0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/37215-h/images/samp04.png
diff --git a/37215-h/images/tp.png b/37215-h/images/tp.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b7c8f8e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/37215-h/images/tp.png
diff --git a/37215.txt b/37215.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ec94547
--- /dev/null
+++ b/37215.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,9857 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Argus Pheasant, by John Charles Beecham
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Argus Pheasant
+
+Author: John Charles Beecham
+
+Illustrator: George W. Gage
+
+Release Date: August 26, 2011 [EBook #37215]
+Last updated: May 2, 2012
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGUS PHEASANT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Katie Hernandez, Suzanne Shell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Cover]
+
+
+
+
+    THE ARGUS PHEASANT
+
+[Illustration: The Chinaman's laborious progress through the cane had
+amused her. She knew why he stepped so carefully]
+
+    THE
+
+    ARGUS PHEASANT
+
+    BY
+
+    JOHN CHARLES BEECHAM
+
+    Frontispiece by
+    GEORGE W. GAGE
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    NEW YORK
+    W. J. WATT & COMPANY
+    PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+    COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY
+    W. J. WATT & COMPANY
+
+    PRESS OF
+    BRAUNWORTH & CO.
+    BOOK MANUFACTURERS
+    BROOKLYN, N. Y.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTER                               PAGE
+     I. The Omniscient Sachsen         1
+    II. Ah Sing Counts His Nails       10
+   III. Peter Gross is Named Resident  25
+    IV. Koyola's Prayer                35
+     V. Sachsen's Warning              54
+    VI. The Pirate League              73
+   VII. Mynheer Muller Worries         82
+  VIII. Koyala's Warning               97
+    IX. The Long Arm of Ah Sing       107
+     X. Captain Carver Signs          119
+    XI. Mynheer Muller's Dream        125
+   XII. Peter Gross's Reception       134
+  XIII. A Fever Antidote              144
+   XIV. Koyala's Defiance             154
+    XV. The Council                   165
+   XVI. Peter Gross's Pledge          173
+  XVII. The Poisoned Arrow            192
+ XVIII. A Summons to Sadong           198
+   XIX. Koyala's Ultimatum            207
+    XX. Lkath's Conversion            216
+   XXI. Captured by Pirates           226
+  XXII. In the Temple                 238
+ XXIII. Ah Sing's Vengeance           245
+  XXIV. A Rescue                      252
+   XXV. The Fight on the Beach        259
+  XXVI. "To Half of My Kingdom-"      268
+ XXVII. A Woman Scorned               274
+XXVIII. The Attack on the Fort        285
+  XXIX. A Woman's Heart               296
+   XXX. The Governor's Promise        310
+
+
+
+
+THE ARGUS PHEASANT
+
+    Ah, God, for a man with a heart, head, hand,
+    Like some of the simple great ones gone
+    Forever and ever by;
+    One still, strong man in a blatant land,
+    Whatever they call him--what care I?--
+    Aristocrat, democrat, autocrat--one
+    Who can rule and dare not lie!        _Tennyson._
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE OMNISCIENT SACHSEN
+
+
+It was very apparent that his Excellency Jonkheer Adriaan Adriaanszoon
+Van Schouten, governor-general of the Netherlands East Indies, was in a
+temper. His eyes sparked like an emery-wheel biting cold steel. His
+thin, sharp-ridged nose rose high and the nostrils quivered. His pale,
+almost bloodless lips were set in rigid lines over his finely chiseled,
+birdlike beak with its aggressive Vandyke beard. His hair bristled
+straight and stiff, like the neck-feathers of a ruffled cock, over the
+edge of his linen collar. It was this latter evidence of the governor's
+unpleasant humor that his military associate, General Gysbert Karel
+Vanden Bosch, observed with growing anxiety.
+
+The governor took a pinch of snuff with great deliberation and glared
+across the big table of his cabinet-room at the general. Vanden Bosch
+shrank visibly.
+
+"Then, my dear _generaal_," he demanded, "you say we must let these sons
+of Jazebel burn down my residences, behead my residents, and feed my
+_controlleurs_ to the crocodiles without interference from the
+military?"
+
+"_Ach_, no, your excellency!" General Vanden Bosch expostulated hastily.
+"Not that!"
+
+"I fear I have not understood you, my dear general. What do you advise?"
+
+The icy sweetness of the choleric Van Schouten sent a cold shiver along
+the commander's spine. He wriggled nervously in the capacious armchair
+that he filled so snugly. Quite unconsciously he mumbled to himself the
+clause which the pious Javanese had added to their prayers since Van
+Schouten's coming to Batavia: "And from the madness of the _orang
+blanda_ devil at the _paleis_, Allah deliver us."
+
+"Ha! _generaal_, what do you say?" the governor exclaimed.
+
+Vanden Bosch coughed noisily and rallied his wits.
+
+"Ahem, your excellency; ah-hum! It is a problem, as your excellency
+knows. I could send Colonel Heyns and his regiment to Bulungan, if your
+excellency so desires. But--ahem--as your excellency knows, all he will
+find is empty huts. Not a proa on the sea; not a Dyak in his field."
+
+"You might as well send that many wooden men!" Van Schouten snapped.
+
+The general winced. His portentously solemn features that for forty
+years had impressed the authorities at The Hague with his sagacity in
+military affairs became severely grave. Oracularly he suggested:
+
+"Would it not be wise, your excellency, to give Mynheer Muller, the
+_controlleur_, more time? His last report was very satisfactory. Very
+satisfactory, indeed!" He smacked his lips at the satisfactoriness
+thereof.
+
+"_Donder en bliksem!_" the governor swore, crashing his lean fist on the
+table. "More time for what? The taxes have not been paid for two years.
+Not a kilo of rice has been grown on our plantations. Not a liter of
+dammargum has been shipped here. The cane is left to rot uncut. Fire has
+ravaged the cinchona-groves my predecessors set with such care. Every
+ship brings fresh reports of piracies, of tribal wars, and head-hunting.
+How much longer must we possess our souls in patience while these things
+go on?"
+
+The general shook his head with a brave show of regret.
+
+"_Ach!_ your excellency," he replied sadly; "he promised so well."
+
+"Promises," the governor retorted, "do not pay taxes."
+
+Vanden Bosch rubbed his purple nose in perplexity.
+
+"I suppose it is the witch-woman again," he remarked, discouragedly.
+
+"Who else?" Van Schouten growled. "Always the witch-woman. That spawn of
+Satan, Koyala, is at the bottom of every uprising we have in Borneo."
+
+"That is what we get for letting half-breeds mingle with whites in our
+mission schools," Vanden Bosch observed bitterly.
+
+The governor scowled. "That folly will cost the state five hundred
+_gulden_," he remarked. "That is the price I have put on her head."
+
+The general pricked up his ears. "H-m, that should interest Mynheer
+Muller," he remarked. "There is nothing he likes so well as the feel of
+a guilder between his fingers."
+
+The governor snorted. "_Neen, generaal_," he negatived. "For once he has
+found a sweeter love than silver. The fool fairly grovels at Koyala's
+feet, Sachsen tells me."
+
+"So?" Vanden Bosch exclaimed with quickened interest. "They say she is
+very fair."
+
+"If I could get my hands on her once, the Argus Pheasant's pretty
+feathers would molt quickly," Van Schouten snarled. His fingers closed
+like an eagle's talons.
+
+"Argus Pheasant, Bintang Burung, the Star Bird--'tis a sweet-sounding
+name the Malays have for her," the general remarked musingly. There was
+a sparkle in his eye--the old warrior had not lost his fondness for a
+pretty face. "If I was younger," he sighed, "I might go to Bulungan
+myself."
+
+The governor grunted.
+
+"You are an old cock that has lost his tail-feathers, _generaal_," he
+growled. "This is a task for a young man."
+
+The general's chest swelled and his chin perked up jauntily.
+
+"I am not so old as you think, your excellency," he retorted with a
+trace of asperity.
+
+"_Neen, neen, generaal_," the governor negatived, "I cannot let you
+go--not for your own good name's sake. The gossips of Amsterdam and The
+Hague would have a rare scandal to prate about if it became whispered
+around that Gysbert Vanden Bosch was scouring the jungles of Bulungan
+for a witch-woman with a face and form like Helen of Troy's."
+
+The general flushed. His peccadillos had followed him to Java, and he
+did not like to be reminded of them.
+
+"The argus pheasant is too shy a bird to come within gunshot, your
+excellency," he replied somberly. "It must be trapped."
+
+"Ay, and so must she," the governor assented. "That is how she got her
+name. But you are too seasoned for bait, my dear _generaal_." He
+chuckled.
+
+Vanden Bosch was too much impressed with his own importance to enjoy
+being chaffed. Ignoring the thrust, he observed dryly:
+
+"Your excellency might try King Saul's plan."
+
+"Ha!" the governor exclaimed with interest. "What is that?"
+
+Van Schouten prided himself on his knowledge of the Scriptures, and the
+general could not repress a little smirk of triumph at catching him
+napping.
+
+"King Saul tied David's hands by giving him his daughter to wife," he
+explained. "In the same way, your excellency might clip the Argus
+Pheasant's wings by marrying her to one of our loyal servants. It might
+be managed most satisfactorily. A proper marriage would cause her to
+forget the brown blood that she hates so bitterly."
+
+"It is not her brown blood that she hates, it is her white blood," Van
+Schouten contradicted. "But who would be the man?"
+
+"Why not Mynheer Muller, the _controlleur_!" Vanden Bosch asked. "From
+what your excellency says, he would not be unwilling. Then our troubles
+in Bulungan would be over."
+
+Van Schouten scowled thoughtfully.
+
+"It would be a good match," the general urged. "He is only common
+blood--a Marken herring-fisher's son by a Celebes woman. And she"--he
+shrugged his shoulders--"for all her pretty face and plump body she is
+Leveque, the French trader's daughter, by a Dyak woman."
+
+He licked his lips in relish of the plan.
+
+Van Schouten shook his head.
+
+"No, I cannot do it," he said. "I could send her to the
+coffee-plantations--that would be just punishment for her
+transgressions. But God keep me from sentencing any woman to marry."
+
+"But, your excellency," Vanden Bosch entreated.
+
+"It is ridiculous, _generaal_," the governor cut in autocratically. "The
+argus pheasant does not mate with the vulture."
+
+Vanden Bosch's face fell. "Then your excellency must appoint another
+resident," he said, in evident disappointment. "It will take a strong
+man to bring those Dyaks to time."
+
+Van Schouten looked at him fixedly for several moments. A miserable
+sensation of having said too much crept over the general.
+
+"Ha!" Van Schouten exclaimed. "You say we must have a new resident. That
+has been my idea, too. What bush-fighter have you that can lead two
+hundred cut-throats like himself and harry these tigers out of their
+lairs till they crawl on their bellies to beg for peace?"
+
+Inwardly cursing himself for his folly in ceasing to advocate Muller,
+the general twiddled his thumbs and said nothing.
+
+"Well, _generaal_?" Van Schouten rasped irascibly.
+
+"Ahem--you know what troops I have, your excellency. Mostly raw
+recruits, here scarce three months. There is not a man among them I
+would trust alone in the bush. After all, it might be wisest to give
+Mynheer Muller another chance." His cheeks puffed till they were purple.
+
+Van Schouten's face flamed.
+
+"Enough! Enough!" he roared. "If the military cannot keep our house in
+order, Sachsen and I will find a man. That is all, _generaal_.
+_Goedendag!_"
+
+Vanden Bosch made a hasty and none too dignified exit, damning under his
+breath the administration that had transferred him from a highly
+ornamental post in Amsterdam to live with this pepper-pot. He was hardly
+out of the door before the governor shouted:
+
+"Sachsen! _Hola_, Sachsen!"
+
+The sound of the governor's voice had scarcely died in the marbled
+corridors when Sachsen, the omniscient, the indispensable secretary,
+bustled into the sanctum. His stooped shoulders were crooked in a
+perpetual obeisance, and his damp, gray hair was plastered thinly over
+his ruddy scalp; but the shrewd twinkle in his eyes and the hawklike
+cast of his nose and chin belied the air of humility he affected.
+
+"Sachsen," the governor demanded, the eagle gleaming in his lean,
+Caesarian face, "where can I find a man that will bring peace to
+Bulungan?"
+
+The wrinkled features of the all-knowing Sachsen crinkled with a smile
+of inspiration.
+
+"Your excellency," he murmured, bowing low, "there is Peter Gross,
+freeholder of Batavia."
+
+"Peter Gross, _Pieter_ Gross," Van Schouten mused, his brow puckered
+with a thoughtful frown. "The name seems to have slipped my memory. What
+has Peter Gross, freeholder of Batavia, done to merit such an
+appointment at our hands, Sachsen?"
+
+The secretary bowed again, punctiliously.
+
+"Your excellency perhaps remembers," he reminded, "that it was Peter
+Gross who rescued Lieutenant Hendrik de Koren and twelve men from the
+pirates of Lombock."
+
+"Ha!" the governor exclaimed, his stern features relaxing a trifle.
+"Now, Sachsen, answer me truthfully, has this Peter Gross an eye for
+women?"
+
+The secretary bent low.
+
+"Your excellency, the fairest flowers of Batavia are his to pick and
+choose. The good God has given him a brave heart, a comely face, and
+plenty of flesh to cover his bones. But his only mistress is the sea."
+
+"If I should send him to Bulungan, would that she-devil, Koyala, make
+the same fool of him that she has of Muller?" the governor demanded
+sharply.
+
+"Your excellency, the angels above would fail sooner than he."
+
+The governor's fist crashed on the table with a resounding thwack.
+
+"Then he is the man we need!" he exclaimed. "Where shall I find this
+Peter Gross, Sachsen?"
+
+"Your excellency, he is now serving as first mate of the Yankee
+barkentine, _Coryander_, anchored in this port. He was here at the
+_paleis_ only a moment ago, inquiring for news of three of his crew who
+had exceeded their shore leave. I think he has gone to Ah Sing's _rumah
+makan_, in the Chinese campong."
+
+Van Schouten sprang from his great chair of state like a cockerel
+fluttering from a roost. He licked his thin lips and curved them into a
+smile.
+
+"Sachsen," he said, "except myself, you are the only man in Java that
+knows anything. My hat and coat, Sachsen, and my cane!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+AH SING COUNTS HIS NAILS
+
+
+Captain Threthaway, of the barkentine, _Coryander_, of Boston, should
+have heeded the warning he received from his first mate, Peter Gross, to
+keep away from the roadstead of Batavia. He had no particular business
+in that port. But an equatorial sun, hot enough to melt the marrow in a
+man's bones, made the _Coryander's_ deck a blistering griddle; there was
+no ice on board, and the water in the casks tasted foul as bilge. So the
+captain let his longing for iced tea and the cool depths of a palm-grove
+get the better of his judgment.
+
+Passing Timor, Floris, and the other links in the Malayan chain, Captain
+Threthaway looked longingly at the deeply shaded depths of the mangrove
+jungles. The lofty tops of the cane swayed gently to a breeze scarcely
+perceptible on the _Coryander's_ sizzling deck. When the barkentine
+rounded Cape Karawang, he saw a bediamonded rivulet leap sheer off a
+lofty cliff and lose itself in the liana below. It was the last straw;
+the captain felt he had to land and taste ice on his tongue again or
+die. Calling his first mate, he asked abruptly:
+
+"Can we victual at Batavia as cheaply as at Singapore, Mr. Gross?"
+
+Peter Gross looked at the shore-line thoughtfully.
+
+"One place is as cheap as the other, Mr. Threthaway; but if it's my
+opinion you want, I advise against stopping at Batavia."
+
+The captain frowned.
+
+"Why, Mr. Gross?" he asked sharply.
+
+"Because we'd lose our crew, and Batavia's a bad place to pick up
+another one. That gang for'ard isn't to be trusted where there's liquor
+to be got. 'Twouldn't be so bad to lose a few of them at
+Singapore--there's always English-speaking sailors there waiting for a
+ship to get home on; but Batavia's Dutch. We might have to lay around a
+week."
+
+"I don't think there's the slightest danger of desertions," Captain
+Threthaway replied testily. "What possible reason could any of our crew
+have to leave?"
+
+"The pay is all right, and the grub is all right; there's no kicking on
+those lines," Peter Gross said, speaking guardedly. "But most of this
+crew are drinking men. They're used to their rations of grog regular.
+They've been without liquor since we left Frisco, except what they got
+at Melbourne, and that was precious little. Since the water fouled on
+us, they're ready for anything up to murder and mutiny. There'll be no
+holding them once we make port."
+
+Captain Threthaway flushed angrily. His thin, ascetic jaw set with
+Puritan stubbornness as he retorted:
+
+"When I can't sail a ship without supplying liquor to the crew, I'll
+retire, Mr. Gross."
+
+"Don't misunderstand me, captain," Peter Gross replied, with quiet
+patience.
+
+"I'm not disagreeing with your teetotaler principles. They improve a
+crew if you've got the right stock to work with. But when you take grog
+away from such dock-sweepings as Smith and Jacobson and that little
+Frenchman, Le Beouf, you take away the one thing on earth they're
+willing to work for. We had all we could do to hold them in hand at
+Melbourne, and after the contrary trades we've bucked the past week, and
+the heat, their tongues are hanging out for a drop of liquor."
+
+"Let them dare come back drunk," the captain snapped angrily. "I know
+what will cure them."
+
+"They won't come back," Peter Gross asserted calmly.
+
+"Then we'll go out and get them," Captain Threthaway said grimly.
+
+"They'll be where they can't be found," Peter Gross replied.
+
+Captain Threthaway snorted impatiently.
+
+"Look here, captain!" Peter Gross exclaimed, facing his skipper
+squarely. "Batavia is my home when I'm not at sea. I know its ins and
+outs. Knowing the town, and knowing the crew we've got, I'm sure a stop
+there will be a mighty unpleasant experience all around. There's a
+Chinaman there, Ah Sing, a public-house proprietor and a crimp, that
+has runners to meet every boat. Once a man goes into his _rumah makan_,
+he's as good as lost until the next skipper comes along short-handed and
+puts up the price."
+
+Captain Threthaway smiled confidently.
+
+"Poor as the crew is, Mr. Gross, there's no member of it will prefer
+lodging in a Chinese crimp's public house ten thousand miles from home
+to his berth here."
+
+"They'll forget his color when they taste his hot rum," Peter Gross
+returned bruskly. "And once they drink it, they'll forget everything
+else. Ah Sing is the smoothest article that ever plaited a queue, and
+they don't make them any slicker than they do in China."
+
+Captain Threthaway's lips pinched together in irritation.
+
+"There are always the authorities," he remarked pettishly, to end the
+controversy.
+
+Peter Gross restrained a look of disgust with difficulty.
+
+"Yes, there are always the authorities," he conceded. "But in the
+Chinese campong they're about as much use as a landlubber aloft in a
+blow. The campong is a little republic in itself, and Ah Sing is the man
+that runs it. If the truth was known, I guess he's the boss Chinaman of
+the East Indies--pirate, trader, politician--anything he can make a
+guilder at. From his rum-shop warrens run into every section of
+Chinatown, and they're so well hid that the governor, though he's sharp
+as a weasel and by all odds the best man the Dutch ever had here, can't
+find them. It's the real port of missing men."
+
+Captain Threthaway looked shoreward, where dusky, breech-clouted natives
+were resting in the cool shade of the heavy-leafed mangroves. A bit of
+breeze stirred just then, bringing with it the rich spice-grove and
+jungle scents of the thickly wooded island. A fierce longing for the
+shore seized the captain. He squared his shoulders with decision.
+
+"I'll take the chance, Mr. Gross," he said. "This heat is killing me.
+You may figure on twenty-four hours in port."
+
+Twelve hours after the _Coryander_ cast anchor in Batavia harbor, Smith,
+Jacobson, and Le Beouf were reported missing. When Captain Threthaway,
+for all his Boston upbringing, had exhausted a prolific vocabulary, he
+called his first mate.
+
+"Mr. Gross," he said, "the damned renegades are gone. Do you think you
+can find them?"
+
+Long experience in the vicissitudes of life, acquired in that best
+school of all, the forecastle, had taught Peter Gross the folly of
+saying, "I told you so." Therefore he merely replied:
+
+"I'll try, sir."
+
+So it befell that he sought news of the missing ones at the great white
+_stadhuis_, where the Heer Sachsen, always his friend, met him and
+conceived the inspiration for his prompt recommendation to the
+governor-general.
+
+Peter Gross ambled on toward Ah Sing's _rumah makan_ without the
+slightest suspicion he was being followed. On his part, Governor-General
+Van Schouten was content to let his quarry walk on unconscious of
+observation while he measured the man.
+
+"God in Israel, what a man!" his excellency exclaimed admiringly, noting
+Peter Gross's broad shoulders and stalwart thighs. "If he packs as much
+brains inside his skull as he does meat on his bones, there are some
+busy days ahead for my Dyaks." He smacked his lips in happy
+anticipation.
+
+Ah Sing's grog-shop, with its colonnades and porticoes and fussy gables
+and fantastic cornices terminating in pigtail curlicues, was a squalid
+place for all the ornamentation cluttered on it. Peter Gross observed
+its rubbishy surroundings with ill-concealed disgust.
+
+"'Twould be a better Batavia if some one set fire to the place," he
+muttered to himself. "Yet the law would call it arson."
+
+Looking up, he saw Ah Sing seated in one of the porticoes, and quickly
+masked his face to a smile of cordial greeting, but not before the
+Chinaman had detected his ill humor.
+
+There was a touch of three continents in Ah Sing's appearance. He sat
+beside a table, in the American fashion; he smoked a long-stemmed
+hookah, after the Turkish fashion, and he wore his clothes after the
+Chinese fashion. The bland innocence of his pudgy face and the seraphic
+mildness of his unblinking almond eyes that peeped through slits no
+wider than the streak of a charcoal-pencil were as the guilelessness of
+Mother Eve in the garden. Motionless as a Buddha idol he sat, except for
+occasional pulls at the hookah.
+
+"Good-morning, Ah Sing," Peter Gross remarked happily, as he mounted the
+colonnade.
+
+The tiny slits through which Ah Sing beheld the pageantry of a sun-baked
+world opened a trifle wider.
+
+"May Allah bless thee, Mr. Gross," he greeted impassively.
+
+Peter Gross pulled a chair away from one of the other tables and placed
+it across the board from Ah Sing. Then he succumbed to it with a sigh of
+gentle ease.
+
+"A hot day," he panted, and fanned himself as though he found the
+humidity unbearable.
+
+"Belly hot," Ah Sing gravely agreed in a guttural voice that sounded
+from unfathomable abysses.
+
+"A hot day for a man that's tasted no liquor for nigh three months,"
+Peter Gross amended.
+
+"You makee long trip?" Ah Sing inquired politely.
+
+Peter Gross's features molded themselves into an expression eloquently
+appreciative of his past miseries.
+
+"That's altogether how you take it, Ah Sing," he replied. "From Frisco
+to Melbourne to Batavia isn't such a thunderin' long ways, not to a man
+that's done the full circle three times. But when you make the voyage
+with a Methodist captain who doesn't believe in grog, it's the longest
+since Captain Cook's. Ah Sing, my throat's dryer than a sou'east
+monsoon. Hot toddy for two."
+
+Ah Sing clapped his hands and uttered a magic word or two in Chinese. A
+Cantonese waiter paddled swiftly outside, bearing a lacquered tray and
+two steaming glasses. One he placed before Ah Sing and the other before
+Peter Gross, who tossed a coin on the table.
+
+"Pledge your health, sir," Peter Gross remarked and reached across the
+board to clink glasses with his Chinese friend. Ah Sing lifted his glass
+to meet the sailor's and suddenly found it snaked out of his hands by a
+deft motion of Peter Gross's middle finger. Gross slid his own glass
+across the table toward Ah Sing.
+
+"If you don't mind," he remarked pleasantly. "Your waiter might have
+mistaken me for a plain A. B., and I've got to get back to my ship
+to-night."
+
+Ah Sing's bland and placid face remained expressionless as a carved
+god's. But he left the glass stand, untasted, beside him.
+
+The _Coryander's_ mate sipped his liquor and sank deeper into his chair.
+He studied with an air of affectionate interest the long lane of
+quaintly colonnaded buildings that edged the city within a city, the
+Chinese campong. Pigtailed Orientals, unmindful of the steaming heat,
+squirmed across the scenery. Ten thousand stenches were compounded into
+one, in which the flavor of garlic predominated. Peter Gross breathed
+the heavy air with a smile of reminiscent pleasure and dropped another
+notch into the chair.
+
+"It feels good to be back ashore again for a spell, Ah Sing," he
+remarked. "A nice, cool spot like this, with nothing to do and some of
+your grog under the belt, skins a blistery deck any day. I don't wonder
+so many salts put up here."
+
+Back of the curtain of fat through which they peered, Ah Sing's oblique
+eyes quivered a trifle as they watched the sailor keenly.
+
+"By the way," Peter Gross observed, stretching his long legs out to the
+limit of their reach, "you haven't seen any of my men, have you? Smith,
+he's pock-marked and has a cut over his right eye; Jacobson, a tall
+Swede, and Le Beouf, a little Frenchman with a close-clipped black
+mustache and beard?"
+
+Ah Sing gravely cudgeled his memory.
+
+"None of your men," he assured, "was here."
+
+Peter Gross's face fell.
+
+"That's too bad!" he exclaimed in evident disappointment. "I thought
+sure I'd find 'em here. You're sure you haven't overlooked them? That
+Frenchie might call for a hop; we picked him out of a hop-joint at
+Frisco."
+
+"None your men here," Ah Sing repeated gutturally.
+
+Peter Gross rumpled his tousled hair in perplexity.
+
+"We-el," he drawled unhappily, "if those chaps don't get back on
+shipboard by nightfall I'll have to buy some men from you, Ah Sing. Have
+y' got three good hands that know one rope from another?"
+
+"Two men off schooner _Marianna_," Ah Sing replied in his same thick
+monotone. "One man, steamer _Callee-opie_. Good strong man. Work hard."
+
+"You stole 'em, I s'pose?" Peter Gross asked pleasantly.
+
+Ah Sing's heavy jowls waggled in gentle negation.
+
+"No stealum man," he denied quietly. "Him belly sick. Come here, get
+well. Allie big, strong man."
+
+"How much a head?"
+
+"Twlenty dlolla."
+
+"F. O. B. the _Coryander_ and no extra charges?"
+
+Ah Sing's inscrutable face screwed itself into a maze of unreadable
+wrinkles and lines.
+
+"Him eat heap," he announced. "Five dlolla more for board."
+
+"You go to blazes," Peter Gross replied cheerfully. "I'll look up a
+couple of men somewhere else or go short-handed if I have to."
+
+Ah Sing made no reply and his impassive face did not alter its
+expressionless fixity. Peter Gross lazily pulled himself up in his chair
+and extended his right hand across the table. A ring with a big
+bloodstone in the center, a bloodstone cunningly chiseled and marked,
+rested on the middle finger.
+
+"See that ring, Ah Sing?" he asked. "I got that down to Mauritius. What
+d'ye think it's worth?"
+
+Ah Sing's long, claw-like fingers groped avariciously toward the ring.
+His tiny, fat-encased eyes gleamed with cupidity.
+
+With a quick, cat-like movement, Peter Gross gripped one of the
+Chinaman's hands.
+
+"Don't pull," he cautioned quickly as Ah Sing tried to draw his hand
+away. "I was going to tell you that there's a drop of adder's poison
+inside the bloodstone that runs down a little hollow pin if you press
+the stone just so--" He moved to illustrate.
+
+"No! No!" Ah Sing shrieked pig-like squeals of terror.
+
+"Just send one of your boys for my salts, will you?" Peter Gross
+requested pleasantly. "I understand they got here yesterday morning and
+haven't been seen to leave. Talk English--no China talk, savvy?"
+
+A flash of malevolent fury broke Ah Sing's mask of impassivity. The rage
+his face expressed caused Peter Gross to grip his hand the harder and
+look quickly around for a possible danger from behind. They were alone.
+Peter Gross moved a finger toward the stone, and Ah Sing capitulated. At
+his shrill cry there was a hurried rustle from within. Peter Gross kept
+close grip on the Chinaman's hand until he heard the shuffling tramp of
+sailor feet. Smith, Jacobson and Le Beouf, blinking sleepily, were
+herded on the portico by two giant Thibetans.
+
+Peter Gross shoved the table and Ah Sing violently back and leaped to
+his feet.
+
+"You'll--desert--will you?" he exclaimed. Each word was punctuated by a
+swift punch on the chin of one of the unlucky sailors and an echoing
+thud on the floor. Smith, Jacobson, and Le Beouf lay neatly cross-piled
+on one of Ah Sing's broken chairs.
+
+"I'll pay for the chair," Peter Gross declared, jerking his men to their
+feet and shoving them down the steps.
+
+Ah Sing shrilled an order in Chinese. The Thibetan giants leaped for
+Peter Gross, who sprang out of their reach and put his back to the wall.
+In his right hand a gun flashed.
+
+"Ah Sing, I'll take you first," he shouted.
+
+The screen separating them from the adjoining portico was violently
+pushed aside.
+
+"Ah Sing!" exclaimed a sharp, authoritative voice.
+
+Ah Sing looked about, startled. The purpled fury his face expressed
+sickened to a mottled gray. Adriaan Adriaanszoon Van Schouten,
+governor-general of Java, leaning lightly on his cane, frowned sternly
+at the scene of disorder. At a cry from their master the two Thibetans
+backed away from Peter Gross, who lowered his weapon.
+
+"Is it thus you observe our laws, Ah Sing?" Van Schouten demanded
+coldly.
+
+Ah Sing licked his lips. "Light of the sun--" he began, but the governor
+interrupted shortly:
+
+"The magistrate will hear your explanations." His eagle eyes looked
+penetratingly upon Peter Gross, who looked steadfastly back.
+
+"Sailor, you threatened to poison this man," the governor accused
+harshly, indicating Ah Sing.
+
+"Your excellency, that was bluff," Peter Gross replied. "The ring is as
+harmless as your excellency's own."
+
+Van Schouten's eyes twinkled.
+
+"What is your name, sailor, and your ship?" he demanded.
+
+"Peter Gross, your excellency, first mate of the barkentine _Coryander_
+of Boston, now lying in your excellency's harbor of Batavia."
+
+"Ah Sing," Van Schouten rasped sternly, "if these drunken louts are not
+aboard their ship by nightfall, you go to the coffee-fields."
+
+Ah Sing's gimlet eyes shrank to pin-points. His face was expressionless,
+but his whole body seemed to shake with suppressed emotion as he choked
+in guttural Dutch:
+
+"Your excellency shall be obeyed." He salaamed to the ground.
+
+Van Schouten glared at Peter Gross.
+
+"Mynheer Gross, the good name of our fair city is very dear to us," he
+said sternly. "Scenes of violence like this do it much damage. I would
+have further discourse with you. Be at the _paleis_ within the hour."
+
+"I shall be there, your excellency," Peter Gross promised.
+
+The governor shifted his frown to Ah Sing.
+
+"As for you, Ah Sing, I have heard many evil reports of this place," he
+said. "Let me hear no more."
+
+While Ah Sing salaamed again, the governor strode pompously away,
+followed at a respectful distance by Peter Gross. It was not until they
+had disappeared beyond a curve in the road that Ah Sing let his face
+show his feelings. Then an expression of malignant fury before which
+even the two Thibetans quailed, crossed it.
+
+He uttered a harsh command to have the debris removed. The Thibetans
+jumped forward in trembling alacrity. Without giving them another glance
+he waddled into the building, into a little den screened off for his own
+use. From a patent steel safe of American make he took an ebony box,
+quaintly carved and colored in glorious pinks and yellows with a flower
+design. Opening this, he exposed a row of glass vials resting on beds of
+cotton. Each vial contained some nail parings.
+
+He took out the vials one by one, looked at their labels inscribed in
+Chinese characters, and placed them on an ivory tray. As he read each
+label a curious smile of satisfaction spread over his features.
+
+When he had removed the last vial he sat at his desk, dipped a pen into
+India ink, and wrote two more labels in similar Chinese characters. When
+the ink had dried he placed these on two empty vials taken from a
+receptacle on his desk. The vials were placed with the others in the
+ebony box and locked in the safe.
+
+The inscriptions he read on the labels were the names of men who had
+died sudden and violent deaths in the East Indies while he had lived at
+Batavia. The labels he filled out carried the names of Adriaan
+Adriaanszoon Van Schouten and Peter Gross.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+PETER GROSS IS NAMED RESIDENT
+
+
+"Sailor, the penalty for threatening the life of any citizen is penal
+servitude on the state's coffee-plantations."
+
+The governor's voice rang harshly, and he scowled across the big table
+in his cabinet-room at the _Coryander's_ mate sitting opposite him. His
+hooked nose and sharp-pointed chin with its finely trimmed Van Dyke
+beard jutted forward rakishly.
+
+"I ask no other justice than your excellency's own sense of equity
+suggests," Peter Gross replied quietly.
+
+"H'mm!" the governor hummed. He looked at the _Coryander's_ mate keenly
+for a few moments through half-closed lids. Suddenly he said:
+
+"And what if I should appoint you a resident, sailor?"
+
+Peter Gross's lips pressed together tightly, but otherwise he gave no
+sign of his profound astonishment at the governor's astounding proposal.
+Sinking deeper into his chair until his head sagged on his breast, he
+deliberated before replying.
+
+"Your excellency is in earnest?"
+
+"I do not jest on affairs of state, Mynheer Gross. What is your
+answer?"
+
+Peter Gross paused. "Your excellency overwhelms me--" he began, but Van
+Schouten cut him short.
+
+"Enough! When I have work to do I choose the man who I think can do it.
+Then you accept?"
+
+"Your excellency, to my deep regret I must most respectfully decline."
+
+A look of blank amazement spread over the governor's face. Then his eyes
+blazed ominously.
+
+"Decline! Why?" he roared.
+
+"For several reasons," Peter Gross replied with disarming mildness. "In
+the first place I am under contract with Captain Threthaway of the
+_Coryander_--"
+
+"I will arrange that with your captain," the governor broke in.
+
+"In the second place I am neither a soldier nor a politician--"
+
+"That is for me to consider," the governor retorted.
+
+"In the third place, I am a citizen of the United States and therefore
+not eligible to any civil appointment from the government of the
+Netherlands."
+
+"_Donder en bliksem!_" the governor exclaimed. "I thought you were a
+freeholder here."
+
+"I am," Peter Gross admitted. "The land I won is at Riswyk. I expect to
+make it my home when I retire from the sea."
+
+"How long have you owned that land?"
+
+"For nearly seven years."
+
+The governor stroked his beard. "You talk Holland like a Hollander,
+Mynheer Gross," he observed.
+
+"My mother was of Dutch descent," Peter Gross explained. "I learned the
+language from her."
+
+"Good!" Van Schouten inclined his head with a curt nod of satisfaction.
+"Half Holland is all Holland. We can take steps to make you a citizen at
+once."
+
+"I don't care to surrender my birthright." Peter Gross negatived
+quietly.
+
+"What!" Van Schouten shouted. "Not for a resident's post? And eight
+thousand guilders a year? And a land grant in Java that will make you
+rich for life if you make those hill tribes stick to their plantations?
+What say you to this, Mynheer Gross?" His lips curved with a smile of
+anticipation.
+
+"The offer is tempting and the honor great," Peter Gross acknowledged
+quietly. "But I can not forget I was born an American."
+
+Van Schouten leaned back in his chair with a look of astonishment.
+
+"You refuse?" he asked incredulously.
+
+"I am sorry, your excellency!" Peter Gross's tone was unmistakably firm.
+
+"You refuse?" the governor repeated, still unbelieving.
+"Eight--thousand--guilders! And a land grant that will make you rich for
+life!"
+
+"I am an American, and American I shall stay."
+
+The governor's eyes sparkled with admiration.
+
+"By the beard of Orange!" he exclaimed, "it is no wonder you Yankees
+have sucked the best blood of the world into your country." He leaned
+forward confidentially.
+
+"Mynheer Gross, I cannot appoint you resident if you refuse to take the
+oath of allegiance to the queen. But I can make you special agent of the
+_gouverneur-generaal_. I can make you a resident in fact, if not in
+name, of a country larger than half the Netherlands, larger than many of
+your own American States. I can give you the rewards I have pledged you,
+a fixed salary and the choice of a thousand hectares of our fairest
+state lands in Java. What do you say?"
+
+He leaned forward belligerently. In that posture his long, coarse hair
+rose bristly above his neck, giving him something of the appearance of a
+gamecock with feathers ruffled. It was this peculiarity that first
+suggested the name he was universally known by throughout the Sundas,
+"De Kemphaan" (The Gamecock).
+
+"To what province would you appoint me?" Peter Gross asked slowly.
+
+The governor hesitated. With the air of a poker player forced to show
+his hand he confessed:
+
+"It is a difficult post, mynheer, and needs a strong man as resident. It
+is the residency of Bulungan, Borneo."
+
+There was the faintest flicker in Peter Gross's eyes. Van Schouten
+watched him narrowly. In the utter stillness that followed the governor
+could hear his watch tick.
+
+Peter Gross rose abruptly, leaped for the door, and threw it open. He
+looked straight into the serene, imperturbable face of Chi Wung Lo,
+autocrat of the governor's domestic establishment. Chi Wung bore a
+delicately lacquered tray of Oriental design on which were standing two
+long, thin, daintily cut glasses containing cooling limes that bubbled
+fragrantly. Without a word he swept grandly in and placed the glasses on
+the table, one before the governor, and the other before Peter Gross's
+vacant chair.
+
+"Ha!" Van Schouten exclaimed, smacking his lips. "Chi Wung, you
+peerless, priceless servant, how did you guess our needs?"
+
+With a bland bow and never a glance at Peter Gross, Chi Wung strutted
+out in Oriental dignity, carrying his empty tray. Peter Gross closed the
+door carefully, and walked slowly back.
+
+"I was about to say, your excellency," he murmured, "that Bulungan has
+not a happy reputation."
+
+"It needs a strong man to rule it," the governor acknowledged, running
+his glance across Peter Gross's broad shoulders in subtle compliment.
+
+"Those who have held the post of resident there found early graves."
+
+"You are young, vigorous. You have lived here long enough to know how to
+escape the fevers."
+
+"There are worse enemies in Bulungan than the fevers," Peter Gross
+replied. "It is not for nothing that Bulungan is known as the graveyard
+of Borneo."
+
+The governor glanced at Peter Gross's strong face and stalwart form
+regretfully.
+
+"Your refusal is final?" he asked.
+
+"On the contrary, if your excellency will meet one condition, I accept,"
+Peter Gross replied.
+
+The governor put his glass down sharply and stared at the sailor.
+
+"You accept this post?" he demanded.
+
+"Upon one condition, yes!"
+
+"What is that condition?"
+
+"That I be allowed a free hand."
+
+"H'mm!" Van Schouten drew a deep breath and leaned back in his chair.
+The sharp, Julian cast of countenance was never more pronounced, and the
+eagle eyes gleamed inquiringly, calculatingly. Peter Gross looked
+steadily back. The minutes passed and neither spoke.
+
+"Why do you want to go there?" the governor exclaimed suddenly. He
+leaned forward in his chair till his eyes burned across a narrow two
+feet into Peter Gross's own.
+
+The strong, firm line of Peter Gross's lips tightened. He rested one
+elbow on the table and drew nearer the governor. His voice was little
+more than a murmur as he said:
+
+"Your excellency, let me tell you the story of Bulungan."
+
+The governor's face showed surprise. "Proceed," he directed.
+
+"Six years ago, when your excellency was appointed governor-general of
+the Netherlands East Indies," Peter Gross began, "Bulungan was a No
+Man's land, although nominally under the Dutch flag. The pirates that
+infested the Celebes sea and the straits of Macassar found ports of
+refuge in its jungle-banked rivers and marsh mazes where no gun-boat
+could find them. The English told your government that if it did not
+stamp out piracy and subjugate the Dyaks, it would. That meant loss of
+the province to the Dutch crown. Accordingly you sent General Van
+Heemkerken there with eight hundred men who marched from the lowlands to
+the highlands and back again, burning every village they found, but
+meeting no Dyaks except old men and women too helpless to move. General
+Van Heemkerken reported to you that he had pacified the country. On his
+report you sent Mynheer Van Scheltema there as resident, and Cupido as
+_controlleur_. Within six months Van Scheltema was bitten by an adder
+placed in his bedroom and Cupido was assassinated by a hill Dyak, who
+threw him out of a dugout into a river swarming with crocodiles.
+
+"_Lieve hemel_, no!" Van Schouten cried. "Van Scheltema and Cupido died
+of the fevers."
+
+"So it was reported to your excellency," Peter Gross replied gravely. "I
+tell you the facts."
+
+The governor's thin, spiked jaw shot out like a vicious thorn and his
+teeth clicked.
+
+"Go on," he directed sharply.
+
+"For a year there was neither resident nor _controlleur_ at Bulungan.
+Then the pirates became so bold that you again took steps to repress
+them. The stockade at the village of Bulungan was enlarged and the
+garrison was increased to fifty men. Lieutenant Van Slyck, the
+commandant, was promoted to captain. A new resident was appointed,
+Mynheer de Jonge, a very dear friend of your excellency. He was an old
+man, estimable and honest, but ill-fitted for such a post, a failure in
+business, and a failure as a resident. Time after time your excellency
+wrote him concerning piracies, hillmen raids, and head-hunting committed
+in his residency or the adjoining seas. Each time he replied that your
+excellency must be mistaken, that the pirates and head-hunters came from
+other districts."
+
+The governor's eyes popped in amazement. "How do you know this?" he
+exclaimed, but Peter Gross ignored the question.
+
+"Finally about two years ago Mynheer de Jonge, through an accident,
+learned that he had been deceived by those he had trusted, had a right
+to trust. A remark made by a drunken native opened his eyes. One night
+he called out Captain Van Slyck and the latter's commando and made a
+flying raid. He all but surprised a band of pirates looting a captured
+schooner and might have taken them had they not received a warning of
+his coming. That raid made him a marked man. Within two weeks he was
+poisoned by being pricked as he slept with a thorn dipped in the juice
+of the deadly upas tree."
+
+"He was a suicide!" the governor exclaimed, his face ashen. "They
+brought me a note in his own handwriting."
+
+"In which it was stated that he killed himself because he felt he had
+lost your excellency's confidence?"
+
+"You know that, too?" Van Schouten whispered huskily.
+
+"Your excellency has suffered remorse without cause," Peter Gross
+declared quietly. "The note is a forgery."
+
+The governor's hands gripped the edge of the table.
+
+"You can prove that?" he cried.
+
+"For the present your excellency must be satisfied with my word. As
+resident of Bulungan I hope to secure proofs that will satisfy a court
+of justice."
+
+The governor gazed at Peter Gross intently. A conflict of emotions,
+amazement, unbelief, and hope were expressed on his face.
+
+"Why should I believe you?" he demanded fiercely.
+
+Peter Gross's face hardened. The sternness of the magistrate was on his
+brow as he replied:
+
+"Your excellency remembers the schooner _Tetrina_, attacked by Chinese
+and Dyak pirates off the coast of Celebes three years ago? All her crew
+were butchered except two left on the deck that night for dead. I was
+one of the two, your excellency. My dead comrades have left me a big
+debt to pay. That is why I will go to Bulungan."
+
+The governor rose. Decision was written on his brow.
+
+"Meet us here to-night, Mynheer Gross," he said. "There is much to
+discuss with Mynheer Sachsen before you leave. God grant you may be the
+instrument of His eternal justice." Peter Gross raised a hand of
+warning.
+
+"Sometimes the very walls have ears, your excellency," he cautioned. "If
+I am to be resident of Bulungan no word of the appointment must leak out
+until I arrive there."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+KOYALA'S PRAYER
+
+
+It was a blistering hot day in Bulungan. The heavens were molten
+incandescence. The muddy river that bisected the town wallowed through
+its estuary, a steaming tea-kettle. The black muck-fields baked and
+flaked under the torrid heat. The glassy surface of the bay, lying
+within the protecting crook of a curling tail of coral reef, quivered
+under the impact of the sun's rays like some sentient thing.
+
+In the village that nestled where fresh and salt water met, the streets
+were deserted, almost lifeless. Gaunt pariah dogs, driven by the
+acid-sharp pangs of a never-satiated hunger, sniffed among the shadows
+of the bamboo and palmleaf huts, their backs arched and their tails
+slinking between their legs. Too weak to grab their share of the spoil
+in the hurly-burly, they scavenged in these hours of universal inanity.
+The doors of the huts were tightly closed--barricaded against the heat.
+The merchant in his dingy shop, the fisherman in his house on stilts,
+and the fashioner of metals in his thatched cottage in the outskirts
+slept under their mats. Apoplexy was the swift and sure fate of those
+who dared the awful torridity.
+
+Dawn had foretold the heat. The sun shot above the purple and orange
+waters of the bay like a conflagration. The miasmal vapors that
+clustered thickly about the flats by night gathered their linen and fled
+like the hunted. They were scurrying upstream when Bogoru, the
+fisherman, walked out on his sampan landing. He looked at the unruffled
+surface of the bay, and then looked upward quickly at the lane of tall
+kenari trees between the stockade and government buildings on an
+elevation a short distance back of the town. The spindly tops of the
+trees pointed heavenward with the rigidity of church spires.
+
+"There will be no chaetodon sold at the _visschersmarkt_ (fishmart)
+to-day," he observed. "Kismet!"
+
+With a patient shrug of his shoulders he went back to his hut and made
+sure there was a plentiful supply of sirih and cooling limes on hand.
+
+In the fruit-market Tagotu, the fruiterer, set out a tempting display of
+mangosteen, durian, dookoo, and rambootan, pineapples, and pomegranates,
+jars of agar-agar, bowls of rice, freshly cooked, and pitchers of milk.
+
+The square was damp from the heavy night dew when he set out the first
+basket, it was dry as a fresh-baked brick when he put out the last. The
+heavy dust began to flood inward. Tagotu noticed with dismay how thin
+the crowd was that straggled about the market-place. Chepang, his
+neighbor, came out of his stall and observed:
+
+"The monsoon has failed again. Bunungan will stay in his huts to-day."
+
+"It is the will of Allah," Tagotu replied patiently. Putting aside his
+offerings, he lowered the shades of his shop and composed himself for a
+siesta.
+
+On the hill above the town, where the rude fort and the government
+buildings gravely faced the sea, the heat also made itself felt. The
+green blinds of the milk-white residency building, that was patterned as
+closely as tropical conditions would permit after the quaint
+architecture of rural Overysel, were tightly closed. The little cluster
+of residences around it, the _controlleur's_ house and the homes of
+Marinus Blauwpot and Wang Fu, the leading merchants of the place, were
+similarly barricaded. For "Amsterdam," the fashionable residential
+suburb of Bulungan village, was fighting the same enemy as "Rotterdam,"
+the town below, an enemy more terrible than Dyak blow-pipes and Dyak
+poisoned arrows, the Bornean sun.
+
+Like Bogoru, the fisherman, and Tagotu, the fruit-vender, Cho Seng,
+Mynheer Muller's valet and cook, had seen the threat the sunrise
+brought. The sun's copper disc was dyeing the purple and blue waters of
+the bay with vermilion and magentas when he pad-padded out on the
+veranda of the _controlleur's_ house. He was clad in the meticulously
+neat brown jeans that he wore at all times and occasions except funeral
+festivals, and in wicker sandals. With a single sweep of his eyes he
+took in the kenari-tree-lined land that ran to the gate of the stockade
+where a sleepy sentinel, hunched against a pert brass cannon, nodded his
+head drowsily. The road was tenantless. He shot another glance down the
+winding pathway that led by the houses of Marinus Blauwpot and Wang Fu
+to the town below. That also was unoccupied. Stepping off the veranda,
+he crossed over to an unshaded spot directly in front of the house and
+looked intently seaward to where a junk lay at anchor. The brown jeans
+against the milk-white paint of the house threw his figure in sharp
+relief.
+
+Cho Seng waited until a figure showed itself on the deck of the junk.
+Then he shaded his eye with his arm. The Chinaman on the deck of the
+junk must have observed the figure of his fellow countryman on the hill,
+for he also shaded his eyes with his arm.
+
+Cho Seng looked quickly to the right--to the left. There was no one
+stirring. The sentinel at the gate drowsed against the carriage of the
+saucy brass cannon. Shading his eyes once more with a quick gesture, Cho
+Seng walked ten paces ahead. Then he walked back five paces. Making a
+sharp angle he walked five paces to one side. Then he turned abruptly
+and faced the jungle.
+
+The watcher on the junk gave no sign that he had seen this curious
+performance. But as Cho Seng scuttled back into the house, he
+disappeared into the bowels of the ugly hulk.
+
+An hour passed before Cho Seng reappeared on the veranda. He cast only
+a casual glance at the junk and saw that it was being provisioned. After
+listening for a moment to the rhythmic snoring that came from the
+chamber above--Mynheer Muller's apartment--he turned the corner of the
+house and set off at a leisurely pace toward the tangle of mangroves,
+banyan, bamboo cane, and ferns that lay a quarter of a mile inland on
+the same elevation on which the settlement and stockade stood.
+
+There was nothing in his walk to indicate that he had a definite
+objective. He strolled along in apparent aimlessness, as though taking a
+morning's constitutional. Overhead hundreds of birds created a terrific
+din; green and blue-billed gapers shrilled noisily; lories piped their
+matin lays, and the hoarse cawing of the trogons mingled discordantly
+with the mellow notes of the mild cuckoos. A myriad insect life buzzed
+and hummed around him, and scurried across his pathway. Pale white
+flowers of the night that lined the wall shrank modestly into their
+green cloisters before the bold eye of day. But Cho Seng passed them by
+unseeing, and unhearing. Nature had no existence for him except as it
+ministered unto his physical needs. Only once did he turn aside--a
+quick, panicky jump--and that was when a little spotted snake glided in
+front of him and disappeared into the underbrush.
+
+When he was well within the shadows of the mangroves, Cho Seng suddenly
+brightened and began to look about him keenly. Following a faintly
+defined path, he walked along in a circuitous route until he came to a
+clearing under the shade of a huge banyan tree whose aerial roots rose
+over his head. After peering furtively about and seeing no one he
+uttered a hoarse, guttural call, the call the great bird of paradise
+utters to welcome the sunrise--"Wowk, wowk, wowk."
+
+There was an immediate answer--the shrill note of the argus pheasant. It
+sounded from the right, near by, on the other side of a thick tangle of
+cane and creeper growth. Cho Seng paused in apparent disquietude at the
+border of the thicket, but as he hesitated, the call was repeated more
+urgently. Wrenching the cane apart, he stepped carefully into the
+underbrush.
+
+His progress through it was slow. At each step he bent low to make
+certain where his foot fell. He had a mortal fear of snakes--his
+nightmares were ghastly dreams of a loathsome death from a serpent's
+bite.
+
+There was a low ripple of laughter--girlish laughter. Cho Seng
+straightened quickly. To his right was another clearing, and in that
+clearing there was a woman, a young woman just coming into the bloom of
+a glorious beauty. She was seated on a gnarled aerial root. One leg was
+negligently thrown over the other, a slender, shapely arm reached
+gracefully upward to grasp a spur from another root, a coil of silky
+black hair, black as tropic night, lay over her gleaming shoulder. Her
+sarong, spotlessly white, hung loosely about her wondrous form and was
+caught with a cluster of rubies above her breasts. A sandal-covered
+foot, dainty, delicately tapering, its whiteness tanned with a faint
+tint of harvest brown, was thrust from the folds of the gown. At her
+side, in a silken scabbard, hung a light, skilfully wrought kris. The
+handle was studded with gems.
+
+"Good-morning, Cho Seng," the woman greeted demurely.
+
+Cho Seng, making no reply, snapped the cane aside and leaped through.
+Koyala laughed again, her voice tinkling like silver bells. The
+Chinaman's laborious progress through the cane had amused her. She knew
+why he stepped so carefully.
+
+"Good-morning, Cho Seng," Koyala repeated. Her mocking dark brown eyes
+tried to meet his, but Cho Seng looked studiedly at the ground, in the
+affected humility of Oriental races.
+
+"Cho Seng here," he announced. "What for um you wantee me?" He spoke
+huskily; a physician would instantly have suspected he was tubercular.
+
+Koyala's eyes twinkled. A woman, she knew she was beautiful. Wherever
+she went, among whites or Malays, Chinese, or Papuans, she was admired.
+But from this stolid, unfathomable, menial Chinaman she had never been
+able to evoke the one tribute that every pretty woman, no manner how
+good, demands from man--a glance of admiration.
+
+"Cho Seng," she pouted, "you have not even looked at me. Am I so ugly
+that you cannot bear to see me?"
+
+"What for um you wantee me?" Cho Seng reiterated. His neck was crooked
+humbly so that his eyes did not rise above the hem of her sarong, and
+his hands were tucked inside the wide sleeves of his jacket. His voice
+was as meek and mild and inoffensive as his manner.
+
+Koyala laughed mischievously.
+
+"I asked you a question, Cho Seng," she pointed out.
+
+The Chinaman salaamed again, even lower than before. His face was
+imperturbable as he repeated in the same mild, disarming accents:
+
+"What for um you wantee me?"
+
+Koyala made a moue.
+
+"That isn't what I asked you, Cho Seng," she exclaimed petulantly.
+
+The Chinaman did not move a muscle. Silent, calm as a deep-sea bottom,
+his glance fixed unwaveringly on a little spot of black earth near
+Koyala's foot, he awaited her reply.
+
+Leveque's daughter shrugged her shoulders in hopeless resignation. Ever
+since she had known him she had tried to surprise him into expressing
+some emotion. Admiration, fear, grief, vanity, cupidity--on all these
+chords she had played without producing response. His imperturbability
+roused her curiosity, his indifference to her beauty piqued her, and,
+womanlike, she exerted herself to rouse his interest that she might
+punish him. So far she had been unsuccessful, but that only gave keener
+zest to the game. Koyala was half Dyak, she had in her veins the blood
+of the little brown brother who follows his enemy for months, sometimes
+years, until he brings home another dripping head to set on his
+lodge-pole. Patience was therefore her birthright.
+
+"Very well, Cho Seng, if you think I am ugly--" She paused and arched an
+eyebrow to see the effect of her words. Cho Seng's face was as rigid as
+though carved out of rock. When she saw he did not intend to dispute
+her, Koyala flushed and concluded sharply:
+
+"--then we will talk of other things. What has happened at the residency
+during the past week?"
+
+Cho Seng shot a furtive glance upward. "What for um?" he asked
+cautiously.
+
+"Oh, everything." Koyala spoke with pretended indifference. "Tell me,
+does your _baas_, the _mynheer_, ever mention me?"
+
+"Mynheer Muller belly much mad, belly much drink _jenever_ (gin), belly
+much say 'damn-damn, Cho Seng,'" the Chinaman grunted.
+
+Koyala's laughter rang out merrily in delicious peals that started the
+rain-birds and the gapers to vain emulation. Cho Seng hissed a warning
+and cast apprehensive glances about the jungle, but Koyala, mocking the
+birds, provoked a hubbub of furious scolding overhead and laughed again.
+
+"There's nobody near to hear us," she asserted lightly.
+
+"Mebbe him in bush," Cho Seng warned.
+
+"Not when the southeast monsoon ceases to blow," Koyala negatived.
+"Mynheer Muller loves his bed too well when our Bornean sun scorches us
+like to-day. But tell me what your master has been doing?"
+
+She snuggled into a more comfortable position on the root. Cho Seng
+folded his hands over his stomach.
+
+"Morning him sleep," he related laconically. "Him eat. Him speakee
+_orang kaya_, Wobanguli, drink _jenever_. Him speakee Kapitein Van
+Slyck, drink _jenever_. Him sleep some more. Bimeby when sun so-so--"
+Cho Seng indicated the position of the sun in late afternoon--"him go
+speakee Mynheer Blauwpot, eat some more. Bimeby come home, sleep. Plenty
+say 'damn-damn, Cho Seng.'"
+
+"Does he ever mention me?" Koyala asked. Her eyes twinkled coquettishly.
+
+"Plenty say nothing," Cho Seng replied.
+
+Koyala's face fell. "He doesn't speak of me at all?"
+
+Cho Seng shot a sidelong glance at her.
+
+"Him no speakee Koyala, him plenty drink _jenever_, plenty say
+'damn-damn, Cho Seng.'" He looked up stealthily to see the effect of his
+words.
+
+Koyala crushed a fern underfoot with a vicious dab of her sandaled toes.
+Something like the ghost of a grin crossed the Chinaman's face, but it
+was too well hidden for Koyala to see it.
+
+"How about Kapitein Van Slyck? Has he missed me?" Koyala asked. "It is a
+week since I have been at the residency. He must have noticed it."
+
+"Kapitein Van Slyck him no speakee Koyala," the Chinaman declared.
+
+Koyala looked at him sternly. "I cannot believe that, Cho Seng," she
+said. "The captain must surely have noticed that I have not been in
+Amsterdam. You are not telling me an untruth, are you, Cho Seng?"
+
+The Chinaman was meekness incarnate as he reiterated:
+
+"Him no speakee Koyala."
+
+Displeasure gathered on Koyala's face like a storm-cloud. She leaped
+suddenly from the aerial root and drew herself upright. At the same
+moment she seemed to undergo a curious transformation. The light,
+coquettish mood passed away like dabs of sunlight under a fitful April
+sky, an imperious light gleamed in her eyes and her voice rang with
+authority as she said:
+
+"Cho Seng, you are the eyes and the ears of Ah Sing in Bulungan--"
+
+The Chinaman interrupted her with a sibilant hiss. His mask of humility
+fell from him and he darted keen and angry glances about the cane.
+
+"When Koyala Bintang Burung speaks it is your place to listen, Cho
+Seng," Koyala asserted sternly. Her voice rang with authority. Under her
+steady glance the Chinaman's furtive eyes bushed themselves in his
+customary pose of irreproachable meekness.
+
+"You are the eyes and ears of Ah Sing in Bulungan," Koyala reaffirmed,
+speaking deliberately and with emphasis. "You know that there is a
+covenant between your master, your master in Batavia, and the council of
+the _orang kayas_ of the sea Dyaks of Bulungan, whereby the children of
+the sea sail in the proas of Ah Sing when the _Hanu Token_ come to
+Koyala on the night winds and tell her to bid them go."
+
+The Chinaman glanced anxiously about the jungle, fearful that a swaying
+cluster of cane might reveal the presence of an eavesdropper.
+
+"S-ss-st," he hissed.
+
+Koyala's voice hardened. "Tell your master this," she said. "The spirits
+of the highlands speak no more through the mouth of the Bintang Burung
+till the eyes and ears of Ah Sing become her eyes and ears, too."
+
+There was a significant pause. Cho Seng's face shifted and he looked at
+her slantwise to see how seriously he should take the declaration. What
+he saw undoubtedly impressed him with the need of promptly placating
+her, for he announced:
+
+"Cho Seng tellee Mynheer Muller Koyala go hide in bush--big _baas_ in
+Batavia say muchee damn-damn, give muchee gold for Koyala."
+
+The displeasure in Koyala's flushed face mounted to anger.
+
+"No, you cannot take credit for that, Cho Seng," she exclaimed sharply.
+"Word came to Mynheer Muller from the governor direct that a price of
+many guilders was put on my head."
+
+Her chin tilted scornfully. "Did you think Koyala was so blind that she
+did not see the gun-boat in Bulungan harbor a week ago to-day?"
+
+Cho Seng met her heat with Oriental calm.
+
+"Bang-bang boat, him come six-seven day ago," he declared. "Cho Seng,
+him speakee Mynheer Muller Koyala go hide in bush eight-nine day."
+
+"The gun-boat was in the harbor the morning Mynheer Muller told me,"
+Koyala retorted, and stopped in sudden recollection. A tiny flash of
+triumph lit the Chinaman's otherwise impassive face as he put her
+unspoken thought into words:
+
+"_Kapitein_ him bang-bang boat come see Mynheer Muller _namiddag_,"
+(afternoon) he said, indicating the sun's position an hour before
+sunset. "Mynheer Muller tellee Koyala _voormiddag_" (forenoon). He
+pointed to the sun's morning position in the eastern sky.
+
+"That is true," Koyala assented thoughtfully, and paused. "How did you
+hear of it?"
+
+Cho Seng tucked his hands inside his sleeves and folded them over his
+paunch. His neck was bent forward and his eyes lowered humbly. Koyala
+knew what the pose portended; it was the Chinaman's refuge in a silence
+that neither plea nor threat could break. She rapidly recalled the
+events of that week.
+
+"There was a junk from Macassar in Bulungan harbor two weeks--no, eleven
+days ago," she exclaimed. "Did that bring a message from Ah Sing?"
+
+A startled lift of the Chinaman's chin assured her that her guess was
+correct. Another thought followed swift on the heels of the first.
+
+"The same junk is in the harbor to-day--came here just before sundown
+last night," she exclaimed. "What message did it bring, Cho Seng?"
+
+The Chinaman's face was like a mask. His lips were compressed
+tightly--it was as though he defied her to wedge them open and to force
+him to reveal his secret. An angry sparkle lit Koyala's eyes for a
+moment, she stepped a pace toward him and her hand dropped to the hilt
+of the jeweled kris, then she stopped short. A fleeting look of cunning
+replaced the angry gleam; a half-smile came and vanished on her lips
+almost in the same instant.
+
+Her face lifted suddenly toward the leafy canopy. Her arms were flung
+upward in a supplicating gesture. The Chinaman, watching her from
+beneath his lowered brow, looked up in startled surprise. Koyala's form
+became rigid, a Galatea turned back to marble. Her breath seemed to
+cease, as though she was in a trance. The color left her face, left even
+her lips. Strangely enough, her very paleness made the Dyak umber in her
+cheeks more pronounced.
+
+Her lips parted. A low crooning came forth. The Chinaman's knees quaked
+and gave way as he heard the sound. His body bent from the waist till
+his head almost touched the ground.
+
+The crooning gradually took the form of words. It was the Malay tongue
+she spoke--a language Cho Seng knew. The rhythmic beating of his head
+against his knees ceased and he listened eagerly, with face half-lifted.
+
+"_Hanu Token, Hanu Token_, spirits of the highlands, whither are you
+taking me?" Koyala cried. She paused, and a deathlike silence followed.
+Suddenly she began speaking again, her figure swaying like a tall lily
+stalk in a spring breeze, her voice low-pitched and musically mystic
+like the voice of one speaking from a far distance.
+
+"I see the jungle, the jungle where the mother of rivers gushes out of
+the great smoking mountain. I see the pit of serpents in the jungle--"
+
+A trembling seized Cho Seng.
+
+"The serpents are hungry, they have not been fed, they clamor for the
+blood of a man. I see him whose foot is over the edge of the pit, he
+slips, he falls, he tries to catch himself, but the bamboo slips out of
+his clutching fingers--I see his face--it is the face of him whose
+tongue speaks double, it is the face of--"
+
+A horrible groan burst from the Chinaman. He staggered to his feet.
+
+"_Neen, neen, neen, neen_," he cried hoarsely in an agonized negative.
+"Cho Seng tellee Bintang Burung--"
+
+A tremulous sigh escaped from Koyala's lips. Her body shook as though
+swayed by the wind. Her eyes opened slowly, vacantly, as though she was
+awakening from a deep sleep. She looked at Cho Seng with an absent
+stare, seeming to wonder why he was there, why she was where she was.
+The Chinaman, made voluble through fear, chattered:
+
+"Him junk say big _baas gouverneur_ speakee muchee damn-damn; no gambir,
+no rice, no copra, no coffee from Bulungan one-two year; sendee new
+resident bimeby belly quick."
+
+Koyala's face paled.
+
+"Send a new resident?" she asked incredulously. "What of Mynheer
+Muller?"
+
+The look of fear left Cho Seng's face. Involuntarily his neck bent and
+his fingers sought each other inside the sleeves. There was cunning
+mingled with malice in his eyes as he looked up furtively and feasted on
+her manifest distress.
+
+"Him chop-chop," he announced laconically.
+
+"They will kill him?" Koyala cried.
+
+The Chinaman had said his word. None knew better than he the value of
+silence. He stood before her in all humbleness and calmly awaited her
+next word. All the while his eyes played on her in quick, cleverly
+concealed glances.
+
+Koyala fingered the handle of the kris as she considered what the news
+portended. Her face slowly hardened--there was a look in it of the
+tigress brought to bay.
+
+"Koyala bimeby mally him--Mynheer Muller, go hide in bush?" Cho Seng
+ventured. The question was asked with such an air of simple innocence
+and friendly interest that none could take offense.
+
+Koyala flushed hotly. Then her nose and chin rose high with pride.
+
+"The Bintang Burung will wed no man, Cho Seng," she declared haughtily.
+"The blood of Chawatangi dies in me, but not till Bulungan is purged of
+the _orang blanda_" (white race). She whipped the jeweled kris out of
+its silken scabbard. "When the last white man spills his heart on the
+coral shore and the wrongs done Chawatangi's daughter, my mother, have
+been avenged, then Koyala will go to join the _Hanu Token_ that call
+her, call her--"
+
+She thrust the point of the kris against her breast and looked upward
+toward the far-distant hills and the smoking mountain. A look of longing
+came into her eyes, the light of great desire, almost it seemed as if
+she would drive the blade home and join the spirits she invoked.
+
+With a sigh she lowered the point of the kris and slipped it back into
+its sheath.
+
+"No, Cho Seng," she said, "Mynheer Muller is nothing to me. No man will
+ever be anything to me. But your master has been a kind elder brother to
+Koyala. And like me, he has had to endure the shame of an unhappy
+birth." Her voice sank to a whisper. "For his mother, Cho Seng, as you
+know, was a woman of Celebes."
+
+She turned swiftly away that he might not see her face. After a moment
+she said in a voice warm with womanly kindness and sympathy:
+
+"Therefore you and I must take care of him, Cho Seng. He is weak, he is
+untruthful, he has made a wicked bargain with your master, Ah Sing,
+which the spirits of the hills tell me he shall suffer for, but he is
+only what his white father made him, and the _orang blanda_ must pay!"
+Her lips contracted grimly. "Ay, pay to the last drop of blood! You will
+be true to him, Cho Seng?"
+
+The Chinaman cast a furtive glance upward and found her mellow
+dark-brown eyes looking at him earnestly. The eyes seemed to search his
+very soul.
+
+"_Ja, ja_," he pledged.
+
+"Then go, tell the captain of the junk to sail quickly to Macassar and
+send word by a swift messenger to Ah Sing that he must let me know the
+moment a new resident is appointed. There is no wind and the sun is
+high; therefore the junk will still be in the harbor. Hurry, Cho Seng!"
+
+Without a word the Chinaman wheeled and shuffled down the woodland path
+that led from the clearing toward the main highway. Koyala looked after
+him fixedly.
+
+"If his skin were white he could not be more false," she observed
+bitterly. "But he is Ah Sing's slave, and Ah Sing needs me, so I need
+not fear him--yet."
+
+She followed lightly after Cho Seng until she could see the prim top of
+the residency building gleaming white through the trees. Then she
+stopped short. Her face darkened as the Dyak blood gathered thickly. A
+look of implacable hate and passion distorted it. Her eyes sought the
+distant hills:
+
+"_Hanu Token, Hanu Token_, send a young man here to rule Bulungan," she
+prayed. "Send a strong man, send a vain man, with a passion for fair
+women. Let me dazzle him with my beauty, let me fill his heart with
+longing, let me make his brain reel with madness, let me make his body
+sick with desire. Let me make him suffer a thousand deaths before he
+gasps his last breath and his dripping head is brought to thy temple in
+the hills. For the wrongs done Chawatangi's daughter, _Hanu Token_, for
+the wrongs done me!"
+
+With a low sob she fled inland through the cane.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+SACHSEN'S WARNING
+
+
+Electric tapers were burning dimly in Governor-General Van Schouten's
+sanctum at the _paleis_ that evening as Peter Gross was ushered in. The
+governor was seated in a high-backed, elaborately carved mahogany chair
+before a highly polished mahogany table. Beside him was the omniscient,
+the indispensable Sachsen. The two were talking earnestly in the Dutch
+language. Van Schouten acknowledged Peter Gross's entrance with a curt
+nod and directed him to take a chair on the opposite side of the table.
+
+At a word from his superior, Sachsen tucked the papers he had been
+studying into a portfolio. The governor stared intently at his visitor
+for a moment before he spoke.
+
+"Mynheer Gross," he announced sharply, "your captain tells me your
+contract with him runs to the end of the voyage. He will not release
+you."
+
+"Then I must fill my contract, your excellency," Peter Gross replied.
+
+Van Schouten frowned with annoyance. He was not accustomed to being
+crossed.
+
+"When will you be able to take over the administration of Bulungan,
+_mynheer_?"
+
+Peter Gross's brow puckered thoughtfully. "In three weeks--let us say
+thirty days, your excellency."
+
+"_Donder en bliksem!_" the governor exclaimed. "We need you there at
+once."
+
+"That is quite impossible, your excellency. I will need help, men that I
+can trust and who know the islands. Such men cannot be picked up in a
+day."
+
+"You can have the pick of my troops."
+
+"I should prefer to choose my own men, your excellency," Peter Gross
+replied.
+
+"Eh? How so, _mynheer_?" The governor's eyes glinted with suspicion.
+
+"Your excellency has been so good as to promise me a free hand," Peter
+Gross replied quietly. "I have a plan in mind--if your excellency
+desires to hear it?"
+
+Van Schouten's face cleared.
+
+"We shall discuss that later, _mynheer_. You will be ready to go the
+first of June, then?"
+
+"On the first of June I shall await your excellency's pleasure here at
+Batavia," Peter Gross agreed.
+
+"_Nu!_ that is settled!" The governor gave a grunt of satisfaction and
+squared himself before the table. His expression became sternly
+autocratic.
+
+"Mynheer Gross," he said, "you told us this afternoon some of the
+history of our unhappy residency of Bulungan. You demonstrated to our
+satisfaction a most excellent knowledge of conditions there. Some of the
+things you spoke of were--I may say--surprising. Some touched upon
+matters which we thought were known only to ourselves and to our privy
+council. But, _mynheer_, you did not mention one subject that to our
+mind is the gravest problem that confronts our representatives in
+Bulungan. Perhaps you do not know there is such a problem. Or perhaps
+you underestimate its seriousness. At any rate, we deem it desirable to
+discuss this matter with you in detail, that you may thoroughly
+understand the difficulties before you, and our wishes in the matter. We
+have requested Mynheer Sachsen to speak for us."
+
+He nodded curtly at his secretary.
+
+"You may proceed, Sachsen."
+
+Sachsen's white head, that had bent low over the table during the
+governor's rather pompous little speech, slowly lifted. His shrewd gray
+eyes twinkled kindly. His lips parted in a quaintly humorous and
+affectionate smile.
+
+"First of all, Vrind Pieter, let me congratulate you," he said,
+extending a hand across the table. Peter Gross's big paw closed over it
+with a warm pressure.
+
+"And let me thank you, Vrind Sachsen," he replied. "It was not hard to
+guess who brought my name to his excellency's attention."
+
+"It is Holland's good fortune that you are here," Sachsen declared. "Had
+you not been worthy, Vrind Pieter, I should not have recommended you."
+He looked at the firm, strong face and the deep, broad chest and massive
+shoulders of his protege with almost paternal fondness.
+
+"To have earned your good opinion is reward enough in itself," Peter
+Gross asserted.
+
+Sachsen's odd smile, that seemed to find a philosophic humor in
+everything, deepened.
+
+"Your reward, Vrind Pieter," he observed, "is the customary recompense
+of the man who proves his wisdom and his strength--a more onerous duty.
+Bulungan will test you severely, _vrind_ (friend). Do you believe that?"
+
+"Ay," Peter Gross assented soberly.
+
+"Pray God to give you wisdom and strength," Sachsen advised gravely. He
+bowed his head for a moment, then stirred in his chair and sat up
+alertly.
+
+"_Nu!_ as to the work that lies before you, I need not tell you the
+history of this residency. For Sachsen to presume to instruct Peter
+Gross in what has happened in Bulungan would be folly. As great folly as
+to lecture a dominie on theology."
+
+Again the quaintly humorous quirk of the lips.
+
+"If Peter Gross knew the archipelago half so well as his good friend
+Sachsen he would be a lucky man," Peter Gross retorted spiritedly.
+
+Sachsen's face became suddenly grave.
+
+"We do not doubt your knowledge of conditions in our unhappy province,
+Vrind Pieter. Nor do we doubt your ability, your courage, or your sound
+judgment. But, Pieter--"
+
+He paused. The clear gray eyes of Peter Gross met his questioningly.
+
+"--You are young, Vrind Pieter."
+
+The governor rose abruptly and plucked down from the wall a
+long-stemmed Dutch pipe that was suspended by a gaily colored cord from
+a stout peg. He filled the big china bowl of the pipe with nearly a
+half-pound of tobacco, touched a light to the weed, and returned to his
+chair. There was a pregnant silence in the room meanwhile.
+
+"How old are you, Vrind Pieter?" Sachsen asked gently.
+
+"Twenty-five, _mynheer_," Peter Gross replied. There was a pronounced
+emphasis on the "_mynheer_."
+
+"Twenty-five," Sachsen murmured fondly. "Twenty-five! Just my age when I
+was a student at Leyden and the gayest young scamp of them all." He
+shook his head. "Twenty-five is very young, Vrind Pieter."
+
+"That is a misfortune which only time can remedy," Peter Gross replied
+drily.
+
+"Yes, only time." Sachsen's eyes misted. "Time that brings the days
+'when strong men shall bow themselves, and the grinders shall cease
+because they are few, and the grasshopper shall become a burden, and
+desire shall fail.' I wish you were older, Vrind Pieter."
+
+The old man sighed. There was a far-away look in his eyes as though he
+were striving to pierce the future and the leagues between Batavia and
+Bulungan.
+
+"Vrind Gross," he resumed softly, "we have known each other a long time.
+Eight years is a long time, and it is eight years since you first came
+to Batavia. You were a cabin-boy then, and you ran away from your
+master because he beat you. The wharfmaster at Tanjong Priok found you,
+and was taking you back to your master when old Sachsen saw you. Old
+Sachsen got you free and put you on another ship, under a good master,
+who made a good man and a good _zeeman_ (seaman) out of you. Do you
+remember?"
+
+"I shall never forget!" Peter Gross's voice was vibrant with emotion.
+
+"Old Sachsen was your friend then. He has been your friend through the
+years since then. He is your friend to-day. Do you believe that?"
+
+Peter Gross impulsively reached his hand across the table. Sachsen
+grasped it and held it.
+
+"Then to-night you will forgive old Sachsen if he speaks plainly to you,
+more plainly than you would let other men talk? You will listen, and
+take his words to heart, and consider them well, Pieter?"
+
+"Speak, Sachsen!"
+
+"I knew you would listen, Pieter." Sachsen drew a deep breath. His eyes
+rested fondly on his protege, and he let go Gross's hand reluctantly as
+he leaned back in his chair.
+
+"Vrind Pieter, you said a little while ago that old Sachsen knows the
+people who live in these _kolonien_ (colonies). His knowledge is
+small--"
+
+Peter Gross made a gesture of dissent, but Sachsen did not let him
+interrupt.
+
+"Yet he has learned some things. It is something to have served the
+state for over two-score years in the Netherlands East Indies, first as
+_controlleur_, then as resident in Celebes, in Sumatra, in Java, and
+finally as secretary to the _gouverneur_, as old Sachsen has. In those
+years he has seen much that goes on in the hearts of the black, and the
+brown, and the yellow, and the white folk that live in these sun-seared
+islands. Much that is wicked, but also much that is good. And he has
+seen much of the fevers that seize men when the sun waves hot and the
+blood races madly through their veins. There is the fever of hate, and
+the fever of revenge, the fever of greed, and the fever to grasp God.
+But more universal than all these is the fever of love and the fever of
+lust!"
+
+Peter Gross's brow knit with a puzzled frown. "What do you mean,
+Sachsen?" he demanded.
+
+Sachsen smoothed back his thinning white hair.
+
+"I am an old, old man, Vrind Pieter," he replied "Desire has long ago
+failed me. The passions that our fiery Java suns breed in men have
+drained away. The light that is in a comely woman's eyes, the thrill
+that comes at a touch of her warm hand, the quickened pulse-beat at the
+feel of her silken hair brushing over one's face--all these things are
+ashes and dust to old Sachsen. Slim ankles, plump calves, and full
+rounded breasts mean nothing to him. But you, Vrind Pieter, are young.
+You are strong as a buffalo, bold as a tiger, vigorous as a banyan tree.
+You have a young man's warm blood in your veins. You have the poison of
+youth in your blood. You are a man's man, Peter Gross, but you are also
+a woman's man."
+
+Peter Gross's puzzled frown became a look of blank amazement. "What in
+the devil are you driving at, Sachsen?" he demanded, forgetting in his
+astonishment that he was in the governor's presence.
+
+Sachsen leaned forward, his eyes searching his protege's.
+
+"Have you ever loved a woman, Pieter?" he countered softly.
+
+Peter Gross appeared to be choking. The veins in his forehead distended.
+
+"What has that to do with Bulungan?" he demanded. "You've known me since
+I was a lad, Sachsen; you've known all my comings and goings; why do you
+ask me such--rot?"
+
+A grimly humorous smile lit the governor's stern visage.
+
+"'Let the strong take heed lest they fall,'" Sachsen quoted quietly.
+"Since you say that you love no woman, let me ask you this--have you
+ever seen Koyala?"
+
+The little flash of passion left Peter Gross's face, but the puzzled
+frown remained.
+
+"Koyala," he repeated thoughtfully. "It seems to me I have heard the
+name, but I cannot recall how or when."
+
+"Think, think!" Sachsen urged, leaning eagerly over the table. "The
+half-white woman of Borneo, the French trader's daughter by a native
+woman, brought up and educated at a mission school in Sarawak. The Dyaks
+call her the _Bintang Burung_. Ha! I see you know her now."
+
+"Leveque's daughter, Chawatangi's grandchild?" Peter Gross exclaimed. "Of
+course I know her. Who doesn't?" His face sobered. "The unhappiest woman
+in the archipelago. I wonder she lives."
+
+"You have seen her?" Sachsen asked.
+
+Peter Gross's eyes twinkled reminiscently. "Ay, that I have."
+
+"Tell me about it," Sachsen urged, with an imperceptible gesture to the
+governor to say nothing. He leaned forward expectantly.
+
+Peter Gross cocked an eye at the ceiling. "Let me see, it was about a
+year ago," he said. "I was with McCloud, on the brig _Mary Dietrich_.
+McCloud heard at Macassar that there was a settlement of Dyaks at the
+mouth of the Abbas that wanted to trade in dammar gum and gambir and
+didn't ask too much _balas_ (tribute money). We crossed the straits and
+found the village. Wolang, the chief, gave us a big welcome. We spent
+one day palavering; these natives won't do anything without having a
+_bitchara_ first. The next morning I began loading operations, while
+McCloud entertained the _orang kaya_, Wolang, with a bottle of gin.
+
+"The natives crowded around pretty close, particularly the women,
+anxious to see what we were bringing ashore. One girl, quite a pretty
+girl, went so far as to step into the boat, and one of my men swung an
+arm around her and kissed her. She screamed."
+
+The governor took his pipe out of his mouth and looked up with interest.
+
+"The next minute the mob of Dyaks parted as though cut with a scythe.
+Down the lane came a woman, a white woman."
+
+He turned to the secretary. "You have seen her, Sachsen?"
+
+"_Ja_, Pieter."
+
+"Then you can guess how she keeled me over," Peter Gross said. "I took
+her for white woman, a pure blood. She is white; the brown in her skin
+is no deeper than in a Spaniard's. She walked up to me--I could see a
+hurricane was threatening--and she said:
+
+"'You are English? Go back to your ship, now; don't wait a minute, or
+you will leave your heads here.'
+
+"'Madam,' I said, 'the lad was hasty, but meant no harm. It will not
+happen again. I will make the lady a present.'
+
+"She turned a look on me that fairly withered me. '_You_ think you can
+buy our women, too?' she said, fairly spitting the words. 'Go! go! Don't
+you see my Dyaks fitting arrows in their blow-pipes?'
+
+"McCloud came running up with Chief Wolang. 'What's this?' he blustered,
+but Koyala only pointed to the sea and said the one word:
+
+"'Go!'
+
+"McCloud spoke to Wolang, but at a nod from Koyala the chief gave an
+order to his followers. Fifty Dyaks fitted poisoned arrows into their
+_sumpitans_. McCloud had good judgment; he knew when it was no use to
+_bitchara_ and show gin. We rowed back to the ship without the cargo we
+expected to load and set sail at once. Not an arrow followed us, but the
+last thing I saw of the village was Koyala on the beach, watching us dip
+into the big rollers of the Celebes Sea."
+
+"She is beautiful?" Sachsen suggested softly.
+
+"Ay, quite an attractive young female," Peter Gross agreed in utmost
+seriousness. The governor's grim smile threatened to break out into an
+open grin.
+
+Sachsen looked at the table-top thoughtfully and rubbed his hands. "She
+lost you a cargo," he stated. "You have a score to settle with her." He
+flashed a keen glance at his protege.
+
+"By God, no!" Peter Gross exclaimed. He brought his fist down on the
+table. "She was right, eternally right. If a scoundrelly scum from over
+the sea tried to kiss a woman of my kin in that way I'd treat him a lot
+worse than we were treated."
+
+Van Schouten blew an angry snort that cut like a knife the huge cloud of
+tobacco-smoke in which he had enveloped himself. Peter Gross faced him
+truculently.
+
+"We deserved what we got," he asserted. "When we whites get over the
+notion that the world is a playground for us to spill our lusts and
+vices on and the lower races the playthings we can abuse as we please,
+we'll have peace in these islands. Our missionaries preach morals and
+Christianity; our traders, like that damned whelp, Leveque, break every
+law of God and man. Between the two the poor benighted heathen loses all
+the faith he has and sinks one grade lower in brutishness than his
+ancestors were before him. If all men were like Brooke of Sarawak we'd
+have had the East Indies Christianized by now. The natives were ready to
+make gods out of us--they did it with Brooke--but now they're looking
+for a chance to put a knife in our backs--a good many of them are."
+
+He checked himself. "Here I'm preaching. I beg your pardon, your
+excellency."
+
+Van Schouten blew another great cloud of tobacco-smoke and said nothing.
+Through the haze his eagle-keen eyes searched Peter Gross's face and
+noted the firm chin and tightly drawn lips with stern disapproval.
+Sachsen flashed him a warning glance to keep silent.
+
+"Mynheer Gross," the secretary entreated, "let me again beg the
+privileges of an old friend. Is it admiration for Koyala's beauty or
+your keen sense of justice that leads you to so warm a defense?"
+
+Peter Gross's reply was prompt and decisive.
+
+"Vrind Sachsen, if she had been a hag I'd have thought no different."
+
+"Search your heart, Vrind Pieter. Is it not because she was young and
+comely, a woman unafraid, that you remember her?"
+
+"Women are nothing to me," Peter Gross retorted irritably. "But right
+is right, and wrong is wrong, whether in Batavia or Bulungan."
+
+Sachsen shook his head.
+
+"Vrind Pieter," he declared sadly, "you make me very much afraid for
+you. If you had acknowledged, 'The woman was fair, a fair woman stirs me
+quickly,' I would have said: 'He is young and has eyes to see with, but
+he is too shrewd to be trapped.' But when you say: 'The fault was ours,
+we deserved to lose the cargo,' then I know that you are blind, blind to
+your own weakness, Pieter. Clever, wicked women make fools of such as
+you, Pieter."
+
+One eyebrow arched the merest trifle in the direction of the governor.
+Then Sachsen continued:
+
+"Vrind Pieter, I am here to-night to warn you against this woman. I have
+much to tell you about her, much that is unpleasant. Will you listen?"
+
+Peter Gross shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I am at your service, Sachsen."
+
+"Will you listen with an open mind? Will you banish from your thoughts
+all recollection of the woman you saw at the mouth of the Abbas River,
+all that you know or think you know of her fancied wrongs, and hear what
+old Sachsen has to say of the evil she has done, of the crimes, the
+piracies, ay, even rebellions and treasons for which she has been
+responsible? What do you say, Vrind Pieter?"
+
+Pieter Gross swallowed hard. Words seemed to be struggling to his lips,
+but he kept them back. His teeth were pressed together tightly, the
+silence became tense.
+
+"Listen, Sachsen," he finally said. His voice was studiedly calm. "You
+come from an old, conservative race, a race that clings faithfully to
+the precepts and ideals of its fathers and is certain of its footing
+before it makes a step in advance. You have the old concept of woman,
+that her lot is to bear, to suffer, and to weep. I come from a fresher,
+newer race, a race that gives its women the same liberty of thought and
+action that it gives its men. Therefore there are many things concerning
+the conduct of this woman that we look at in different ways. Things that
+seem improper, ay, sometimes treasonable, to you, seem a perfectly
+natural protest to me. You ignore the wrongs she has suffered, wrongs
+that must make life a living hell to her. You say she must be content
+with the place to which God has called her, submerge the white blood in
+her, and live a savage among savages."
+
+Peter Gross pulled his chair nearer the table and leaned forward. His
+face glowed with an intense earnestness.
+
+"Great Scot, Sachsen, think of her condition! Half white, ay, half
+French, and that is as proud a race as breathes. Beautiful--beautiful as
+the sunrise. Taught in a missionary school, brought up as a white child
+among white children. And then, when the glory of her womanhood comes
+upon her, to learn she is an illegitimate, a half-breed, sister to the
+savage Dyaks, her only future in their filthy huts, to kennel with them,
+breed with them--God, what a horror that revelation must have been!"
+
+He raked his fingers through his hair and stared savagely at the wall.
+
+"You don't feel these things, Sachsen," he concluded. "You're Dutch to
+begin with, and so a conservative thinker. Then you've been ground
+through the routine of colonial service so many years that you've lost
+every viewpoint except the state's expediency. Thank God, I haven't!
+That is why I think I can do something for you in Bulungan--"
+
+He checked himself. "Common sense and a little elemental justice go a
+long, long way in dealing with savages," he observed.
+
+Sachsen's eyes looked steadily into Peter Gross's. Sachsen's kindly
+smile did not falter. But the governor's patience had reached its limit.
+
+"Look you here, Mynheer Gross," he exclaimed, "I want no sympathy for
+that she-devil from my resident."
+
+An angry retort leaped to Peter Gross's lips, but before it could be
+uttered Sachsen's hand had leaped across the table and had gripped his
+warningly.
+
+"She may be as beautiful as a houri, but she is a witch, a very
+Jezebel," the governor stormed. "I have nipped a dozen uprisings in the
+bud, and this Koyala has been at the bottom of all of them. She hates us
+_orang blandas_ with a hate that the fires of hell could not burn out,
+but she is subtler than the serpent that taught Mother Eve. She has
+bewitched my _controlleur_; see that she does not bewitch you. I have
+put a price on her head; your first duty will be to see that she is
+delivered for safe-keeping here in Batavia."
+
+The governor's eyes were sparkling fire. There was a like anger in Peter
+Gross's face; he was on the point of speaking when Sachsen's nails dug
+so deeply into his hand that he winced.
+
+"Mynheer Gross is an American, therefore he is chivalrous," Sachsen
+observed. "He aims to be just, but there is much that he does not
+understand. If your excellency will permit me--"
+
+Van Schouten gave assent by picking up his pipe and closing his teeth
+viciously on the mouthpiece.
+
+Sachsen promptly addressed Peter Gross.
+
+"Vrind Pieter," he said, "I am glad you have spoken. Now we understand
+each other. You are just what I knew you were, fearless, honest, frank.
+You have convinced me the more that you are the man we must have as
+resident of Bulungan."
+
+Peter Gross looked up distrustfully. Van Schouten, too, evinced his
+surprise by taking the pipe from his mouth.
+
+"But," Sachsen continued, "you have the common failing of youth. Youth
+dreams dreams, it would rebuild this sorry world and make it Paradise
+before the snake. It is sure it can. With age comes disillusionment. We
+learn we cannot do the things we have set our hands to do in the way we
+planned. We learn we must compromise. Once old Sachsen had thoughts
+like yours. To-day"--he smiled tenderly--"he has the beginnings of
+wisdom. That is, he has learned that God ordains. Do you believe that,
+Vrind Pieter?"
+
+"Ay, of course," Peter Gross acknowledged, a trifle bewildered. "But--"
+
+"Now, concerning this woman," Sachsen cut in briskly. "We will concede
+that she was wronged before she was born. We will concede the sin of her
+father. We will concede his second sin, leaving her mother to die in the
+jungle. We will concede the error, if error it was, to educate Koyala in
+a mission school among white children. We will concede the fatal error
+of permitting her to return to her own people, knowing the truth of her
+birth."
+
+His voice took a sharper turn.
+
+"But there are millions of children born in your own land, in my land,
+in every land, with deformed bodies, blind perhaps, crippled, with faces
+uglier than baboons. Why? Because one or both of their parents sinned.
+Now I ask you," he demanded harshly, "whether these children, because of
+the sin of their parents, have the right to commit crimes, plot murders,
+treasons, rebellions, and stir savage people to wars of extermination
+against their white rulers? What is your answer?"
+
+"That is not the question," Peter Gross began, but Sachsen interrupted.
+
+"It is the question. It was the sin of the parent in both cases. Leveque
+sinned; his daughter, Koyala, suffers. Parents sin everywhere, their
+children must suffer."
+
+Peter Gross stared at the wall thoughtfully.
+
+"Look you here, Vrind Pieter," Sachsen said, "learn this great truth.
+The state is first, then the individual. Always the good of the whole
+people, that is the state, first, then the good of the individual.
+Thousands may suffer, thousands may die, but if the race benefits, the
+cost is nothing. This law is as old as man. Each generation says it a
+new way, but the law is the same. And so with this Koyala. She was
+wronged, we will admit it. But she cannot be permitted to make the whole
+white race pay for those wrongs and halt progress in Borneo for a
+generation. She will have justice; his excellency is a just man. But
+first there must be peace in Bulungan. There must be no more plottings,
+no more piracies, no more head-hunting. The spear-heads must be
+separated from their shafts, the krisses must be buried, the _sumpitans_
+must be broken in two. If Koyala will yield, this can be done. If you
+can persuade her to trust us, Pieter, half your work is done. Bulungan
+will become one of our fairest residencies, its trade will grow, the
+piracies will be swept from the seas, and the days of head-hunting will
+become a tradition."
+
+Peter Gross bowed his head.
+
+"God help me, I will," he vowed.
+
+"But see that she does not seduce you, Vrind Pieter," the old man
+entreated earnestly. "You are both young, she is fair, and she is a
+siren, a vampire. Hold fast to your God, to your faith, to the oath you
+take as a servant of the state, and do not let her beauty blind you--no,
+nor your own warm heart either, Pieter."
+
+Sachsen rose. There were tears in his eyes as he looked fondly down at
+the young man that owed so much to him.
+
+"Pieter," he said, "old Sachsen will pray for you. I must leave you now,
+Pieter; the governor desires to talk to you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE PIRATE LEAGUE
+
+
+As Sachsen left the room the governor snapped shut the silver cap on the
+porcelain bowl of his pipe and regretfully laid the pipe aside.
+
+"_Nu_, Mynheer Gross, what troops will you need?" he asked in a
+business-like manner. "I have one thousand men here in Java that you may
+have if you need them. For the sea there is the gun-boat, _Prins
+Lodewyk_, and the cutter, _Katrina_, both of which I place at your
+disposal."
+
+"I do not need a thousand men, your excellency," Peter Gross replied
+quietly.
+
+"Ha! I thought not!" the governor exclaimed with satisfaction. "An army
+is useless in the jungle. Let them keep their crack troops in the
+Netherlands and give me a few hundred irregulars who know the cane and
+can bivouac in the trees if they have to. Your Amsterdammer looks well
+enough on parade, but his skin is too thin for our mosquitoes. But that
+is beside the question. Would five hundred men be enough, Mynheer Gross?
+We have a garrison of fifty at Bulungan."
+
+Peter Gross frowned reflectively at the table-top.
+
+"I would not need five hundred men, your excellency," he announced.
+
+The governor's smile broadened. "You know more about jungle warfare
+than I gave you credit for, Mynheer Gross," he complimented. "But I
+should have known that the rescuer of Lieutenant de Koren was no novice.
+Only this morning I remarked to General Vanden Bosch that a capable
+commander and three hundred experienced bush-fighters are enough to
+drive the last pirate out of Bulungan and teach our Dyaks to cultivate
+their long-neglected plantations. What say you to three hundred of our
+best colonials, _mynheer_?"
+
+"I will not need three hundred men, your excellency," Peter Gross
+declared.
+
+Van Schouten leaned back in surprise.
+
+"Well, Mynheer Gross, how large a force will you need?"
+
+Peter Gross's long, ungainly form settled lower in his chair. His legs
+crossed and his chin sagged into the palm of his right hand. The fingers
+pulled gently at his cheeks. After a moment's contemplation he looked up
+to meet the governor's inquiring glance and remarked:
+
+"Your excellency, I shall need about twenty-five men."
+
+Van Schouten stared at him in astonishment.
+
+"Twenty-five men, Mynheer Gross!" he exclaimed. "What do you mean?"
+
+"Twenty-five men, men like I have in mind, will be all I will need, your
+excellency," Peter Gross assured gravely.
+
+Van Schouten edged his chair nearer. "Mynheer Gross, do you understand
+me correctly?" he asked doubtfully. "I would make you resident of
+Bulungan. I would give you supreme authority in the province. The
+commandant, Captain Van Slyck, would be subject to your orders. You will
+be answerable only to me."
+
+"Under no other conditions would I accept your excellency's
+appointment," Peter Gross declared.
+
+"But, Mynheer Gross, what can twenty-five do? Bulungan has more than one
+hundred thousand inhabitants, few of whom have ever paid a picul of rice
+or kilo of coffee as tax to the crown. On the coast there are the
+Chinese pirates, the Bugi outlaws from Macassar and their traitorous
+allies, the coast Dyaks of Bulungan, of Tidoeng, and Pasir, ay, as far
+north as Sarawak, for those British keep their house in no better order
+than we do ours. In the interior we have the hill Dyaks, the worst
+thieves and cut-throats of them all. But these things you know. I ask
+you again, what can twenty-five do against so many?"
+
+"With good fortune, bring peace to Bulungan," Peter Gross replied
+confidently.
+
+The governor leaned aggressively across the table and asked the one-word
+pointed question:
+
+"How?"
+
+Peter Gross uncrossed his legs and tugged gravely at his chin.
+
+"Your excellency," he said, "I have a plan, not fully developed as yet,
+but a plan. As your excellency well knows, there are two nations of
+Dyaks in the province. There are the hillmen--"
+
+"Damned thieving, murdering, head-hunting scoundrels!" the governor
+growled savagely.
+
+"So your excellency has been informed. But I believe that much of the
+evil that is said of them is untrue. They are savages, wilder savages
+than the coast Dyaks, and less acquainted with _blanken_ (white men).
+Many of them are head-hunters. But they have suffered cruelly from the
+coast Dyaks, with whom, as your excellency has said, they have an
+eternal feud."
+
+"They are pests," the governor snarled. "They keep the lowlands in a
+continual turmoil with their raids. We cannot grow a blade of rice on
+account of them."
+
+"That is where your excellency and I must disagree," Peter Gross
+asserted quietly.
+
+"Ha!" the governor exclaimed incredulously. "What do you say, Mynheer
+Gross?"
+
+"Your excellency, living in Batavia, you have seen only one side of this
+question, the side your underlings have shown you. With your
+excellency's permission I shall show you another side, the side a
+stranger, unprejudiced, with no axes to grind either way, saw in his
+eight years of sailoring about these islands. Have I your excellency's
+permission?"
+
+A frown gathered on the governor's face. His thin lips curled, and his
+bristly mane rose belligerently.
+
+"Proceed," he snapped.
+
+Peter Gross rested his elbows on the table and leaned toward the
+governor.
+
+"Your excellency," he began, "let it be understood that I bring no
+accusations to-night; that we are speaking as man to man. I go to
+Bulungan to inquire into the truth of the things I have heard. Whatever
+I learn shall be faithfully reported to your excellency."
+
+Van Schouten nodded curtly.
+
+"Your excellency has spoken of the unrest in Bulungan," Peter Gross
+continued. "Your excellency also spoke of piracies committed in these
+seas. It is my belief, your excellency, that the government has been
+mistaken in assuming that there is no connection between the two. I am
+satisfied that there is a far closer union and a better understanding
+between the Dyaks and the pirates than has ever been dreamed of here in
+Batavia."
+
+The governor smiled derisively.
+
+"You are mistaken, Mynheer Gross," he contradicted. "I almost believed
+so, too, at one time, and I had Captain Van Slyck, our commandant at
+Bulungan, investigate for me. I have his report here. I shall be glad to
+let you read it."
+
+He tapped a gong. In a moment Sachsen bustled in.
+
+"Sachsen," the governor said, "Kapitein Van Slyck's report on the
+pirates of the straits, if you please."
+
+Sachsen bowed and withdrew.
+
+"I shall be glad to read the captain's report," Peter Gross assured
+gravely. A grimly humorous twinkle lurked in his eyes. The governor was
+quick to note it.
+
+"But it will not convince you, eh, _mynheer_?" he challenged. He smiled.
+"You Yankees are an obstinate breed--almost as stubborn as we Dutch."
+
+"I am afraid that the captain's report will not cover things I know,"
+Peter Gross replied. "Yet I have no doubt it will be helpful."
+
+The subtle irony his voice expressed caused the governor to look at him
+quizzically, but Van Schouten was restrained from further inquiry by the
+return of Sachsen with the report. The governor glanced at the
+superscription and handed the document to Peter Gross with the remark:
+"Read that at your leisure. I will have Sachsen make you a copy."
+
+Peter Gross pocketed the report with a murmured word of thanks. The
+governor frowned, trying to recollect where the thread of conversation
+had been broken, and then remarked:
+
+"As I say, Mynheer Gross, I am sure you will find yourself mistaken. The
+Dyaks are thieves and head-hunters, a treacherous breed. They do not
+know the meaning of loyalty--God help us if they did! No two villages
+have ever yet worked together for a common aim. As for the pirates, they
+are wolves that prey on everything that comes in their path. Some of the
+_orang kayas_ may be friendly with them, but as for there being any
+organization--bah! it is too ridiculous to even discuss it."
+
+Peter Gross's lips pressed a little tighter.
+
+"Your excellency," he replied with perfect equanimity, "you have your
+opinion and I have mine. My work in Bulungan, I hope, will show which
+of us is right. Yet I venture to say this. Before I have left Bulungan I
+shall be able to prove to your excellency that one man, not so very far
+from your excellency's _paleis_ at this moment, has united the majority
+of the sea Dyaks and the pirates into a formidable league of which he is
+the head. More than this, he has established a system of espionage which
+reaches into this very house."
+
+Van Schouten stared at Peter Gross in amazement and incredulity.
+
+"Mynheer Gross," he finally exclaimed, "this is nonsense!"
+
+Peter Gross's eyes flashed. "Your excellency," he retorted, "it is the
+truth."
+
+"What proofs have you?" the governor demanded.
+
+"None at present that could convince your excellency," Peter Gross
+admitted frankly. "All I have is a cumulative series of instances,
+unrelated in themselves, scraps of conversations picked up here and
+there, little things that have come under my observation in my sojourns
+in many ports of the archipelago. But in Bulungan I expect to get the
+proofs. When I have them, I shall give them to your excellency, that
+justice may be done. Until then I make no charges. All I say is--guard
+carefully what you would not have your enemies know."
+
+"This is extraordinary," the governor remarked, impressed by Peter
+Gross's intense earnestness. "Surely you do not expect me to believe all
+this on your unsupported word, _mynheer_?"
+
+"The best corroboration which I can offer is that certain matters which
+your excellency thought were known only to himself are now common gossip
+from Batavia to New Guinea," Peter Gross replied.
+
+The governor's head drooped. His face became drawn. Lines formed where
+none had been before. The jauntiness, the pompous self-assurance, and
+the truculence that so distinguished him among his fellows disappeared
+from his mien; it was as though years of anxiety and care had suddenly
+passed over him.
+
+"This discussion brings us nowhere, Mynheer Gross," he wearily remarked.
+"Let us decide how large a force you should have. What you have told me
+convinces me the more that you will need at least two hundred men. I
+hesitate to send you with less than a regiment."
+
+"Let me deal with this situation in my own way, your excellency," Peter
+Gross pleaded. "I believe that just dealing will win the confidence of
+the upland Dyaks. Once that is done, the rest is easy. Twenty-five men,
+backed by the garrison at Bulungan and the hill Dyaks, will be able to
+break up the pirate bands, if the navy does its share. After that the
+problem is one of administration, to convince the coast Dyaks that the
+state is fair, that the state is just, and that the state's first
+thought is the welfare of her people, be they brown, black, or white."
+
+"You think twenty-five men can do all that?" the governor asked
+doubtfully.
+
+"The men I shall choose can, your excellency. They will be men whom I
+can trust absolutely, who have no interests except the service of Peter
+Gross."
+
+"Where will you find them, _mynheer_?"
+
+"Here in Java, your excellency. Americans. Sailors who have left the
+sea. Men who came here to make their fortunes and failed and are too
+proud to go back home. Soldiers from the Philippines, adventurers, lads
+disappointed in love. I could name you a dozen such here in Batavia
+now."
+
+The governor looked at his new lieutenant long and thoughtfully.
+
+"Do as you deem best, _mynheer_. It may be God has sent you here to
+teach us why we have failed. Is there anything else you need, besides
+the usual stores?"
+
+"There is one more request I wish to make of your excellency," Peter
+Gross replied.
+
+"And that is--"
+
+"That your excellency cancel the reward offered for the arrest of
+Leveque's daughter."
+
+Van Schouten stroked his brow with a gesture of infinite weariness.
+
+"You make strange requests, _mynheer_," he observed. "Yet I am moved to
+trust you. What you ask shall be done."
+
+He rose to signify that the interview was at an end. "You may make your
+requisitions through Sachsen, _mynheer_. God speed you and give you
+wisdom beyond your years."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+MYNHEER MULLER WORRIES
+
+
+Seated in a low-framed rattan chair on the broad veranda of his cottage,
+Mynheer Hendrik Muller, _controlleur_, and acting resident of Bulungan,
+awaited in perspiring impatience the appearance of his military
+associate, Captain Gerrit Van Slyck.
+
+State regulations required daily conferences, that the civil arm of the
+government might lay its commands upon the military and the military
+make its requisitions upon the civil. An additional incentive to prompt
+attendance upon these was that _mynheer_ the resident rarely failed to
+produce a bottle of Hollands, which, compounded with certain odorous and
+acidulated products of the tropics, made a drink that cooled the fevered
+brow and mellowed the human heart, made a hundred and twenty in the
+shade seem like seventy, and chased away the home-sickness of folk
+pining for the damp and fog of their native Amsterdam.
+
+It was no urgent affair of state, however, that made Muller fume and
+fuss like a washerwoman on a rainy Monday at Van Slyck's dilatoriness. A
+bit of gossip, casually dropped by the master of a trading schooner who
+had called for clearance papers an hour before, was responsible for his
+agitation.
+
+"When does your new resident arrive?" the visiting skipper had asked.
+
+"The new resident?" Muller returned blankly. "What new resident?"
+
+The skipper perceived that he was the bearer of unpleasant tidings and
+diplomatically minimized the importance of his news.
+
+"Somebody down to Batavia told me you were going to have a new resident
+here," he replied lightly. "It's only talk, I s'pose. You hear so many
+yarns in port."
+
+"There is nothing official--yet," Muller declared. He had the air of one
+who could tell much if he chose. But when the sailor had gone back to
+his ship he hurriedly sent Cho Seng to the stockade with an urgent
+request to Van Slyck to come to his house at once.
+
+Van Slyck was putting the finishing touches to an exquisite toilet when
+he received the message.
+
+"What ails the doddering old fool now?" he growled irritably as he read
+Muller's appeal. "Another Malay run amuck, I suppose. Every time a few
+of these _bruinevels_ (brown-skins) get krissed he thinks the whole
+province is going to flame into revolt."
+
+Tossing the note into an urn, he leisurely resumed his dressing. It was
+not until he was carefully barbered, his hair shampooed and perfumed,
+his nails manicured, and his mustache waxed and twisted to the exact
+angle that a two-months old French magazine of fashion dictated as the
+mode, that the dapper captain left the stockade. He was quite certain
+that the last living representative of the ancient house of Van Slyck of
+Amsterdam would never be seen in public in dirty linen and unwashed,
+regardless how far _mynheer the controlleur_ might forget his
+self-respect and the dignity of his office.
+
+Van Slyck was leisurely strolling along the tree-lined lane that led
+from the iron-wood stockade to the cluster of houses colloquially
+designated "Amsterdam" when the impatient Muller perceived his approach.
+
+"Devil take the man, why doesn't he hurry?" the _controlleur_ swore.
+With a peremptory gesture he signaled Van Slyck to make haste.
+
+"By the beard of Nassau," the captain exclaimed. "Does that swine think
+he can make a Van Slyck skip like a butcher's boy? Things have come to a
+pretty pass in the colonies when a Celebes half-breed imagines he can
+make the best blood of Amsterdam fetch and carry for him."
+
+Deliberately turning his back on the _controlleur_, he affected to
+admire the surpassingly beautiful bay of Bulungan, heaven's own blue
+melting into green on the shingly shore, with a thousand sabres of
+iridescent foam stabbing the morning horizon. Muller was fuming when the
+commandant finally sauntered on the veranda, selected a fat, black cigar
+from the humidor, and gracefully lounged in an easy chair.
+
+"_Donder en bliksem! kapitein_, but you lie abed later every morning,"
+he growled.
+
+Van Slyck's thin lips curled with aristocratic scorn.
+
+"We cannot all be such conscientious public servants as you, _mynheer_,"
+he observed ironically.
+
+Muller was in that state of nervous agitation that a single jarring word
+would have roused an unrestricted torrent of abuse. Fortunately for Van
+Slyck, however, he was obtuse to irony. He took the remark literally and
+for the moment, like oil on troubled waters, it calmed the rising tide
+of his wrath at what he deemed the governor-general's black ingratitude.
+
+"Well, _kapitein, gij kebt gelijk_ (you are right, captain)" he assented
+heavily. The blubbery folds under his chin crimsoned with his cheeks in
+complacent self-esteem. "There are not many men who would have done so
+well as I have under the conditions I had to face--under the conditions
+I had to face--_kapitein_. _Ja!_ Not many men. I have worked and slaved
+to build up this residency. For two years now I have done a double
+duty--I have been both resident and _controlleur_. _Jawel!_"
+
+Recollection of the skipper's unpleasant news recurred to him. His face
+darkened like a tropic sky before a cloudburst.
+
+"And what is my reward, _kapitein_? What is my reward? To have some
+_Amsterdamsche papegaai_ (parrot) put over me." His fist came down
+wrathily on the arm of his chair. "Ten thousand devils! It is enough to
+make a man turn pirate."
+
+Van Slyck's cynical face lit with a sudden interest.
+
+"You have heard from Ah Sing?" he inquired.
+
+"Ah Sing? No. _Drommel noch toe!_" Muller swore. "Who mentioned Ah Sing?
+That thieving Deutscher who runs the schooner we had in port over-night
+told me this not an hour ago. The whole of Batavia knows it. They are
+talking it in every _rumah makan_. And we sit here and know nothing.
+That is the kind of friends we have in Batavia."
+
+Van Slyck, apprehensive that the impending change might affect him,
+speculated swiftly how much the _controlleur_ knew.
+
+"It is strange that Ah Sing hasn't let us know," he remarked.
+
+"Ah Sing?" Muller growled. "Ah Sing? That bloodsucker is all for
+himself. He would sell us out to Van Schouten in a minute if he thought
+he saw any profit in it. _Ja!_ I have even put money into his ventures,
+and this is how he treats me."
+
+"Damnably, I must say," Van Slyck agreed sympathetically. "That is, if
+he knows."
+
+"If he knows, _mynheer kapitein_? Of course he knows. Has he not
+_agenten_ in every corner of this archipelago? Has he not a spy in the
+_paleis_ itself?"
+
+"He should have sent us word," Van Slyck agreed. "Unless _mynheer_, the
+new resident, is one of us. Who did you say it is, _mynheer_?"
+
+"How the devil should I know?" Muller growled irritably. "All I know is
+what I told you--that the whole of Batavia says Bulungan is to have a
+new resident."
+
+Van Slyck's face fell. He had hoped that the _controlleur_ knew at least
+the identity of the new executive of the province. Having extracted all
+the information Muller had, he dropped the cloak of sympathy and
+remarked with cool insolence:
+
+"Since you don't know, I think you had better make it your business to
+find out, _mynheer_."
+
+Muller looked at him doubtfully. "You might make an effort also,
+_kapitein_," he suggested. "You have friends in Batavia. It is your
+concern as well as mine, a new resident would ruin our business."
+
+"I don't think he will," Van Slyck replied coolly. "If he isn't one of
+us he won't bother us long. Ah Sing won't let any prying reformer
+interfere with business while the profits are coming in as well as they
+are."
+
+A shadow of anxiety crossed Muller's face. He cast a troubled look at
+Van Slyck, who affected to admire the multi-tinted color display of
+jungle, sun, and sea.
+
+"What--what do you mean, _kapitein_?" he asked hesitantly.
+
+"People sometimes begin voyages they do not finish," Van Slyck observed.
+"A man might eat a pomegranate that didn't agree with him--pouf--the
+colic, and it is all over. There is nothing so uncertain as life,
+_mynheer_."
+
+The captain replaced his cigar between his teeth with a flourish.
+Muller's pudgy hands caught each other convulsively. The folds under his
+chin flutterred. He licked his lips before he spoke.
+
+"_Kapitein_--you mean he might come to an unhappy end on the way?" he
+faltered.
+
+"Why not?" Van Slyck concentrated his attention on his cigar.
+
+"_Neen, neen_, let us have no bloodshed," Muller vetoed anxiously. "We
+have had enough--" He looked around nervously as though he feared
+someone might be overhearing him. "Let him alone. We shall find some way
+to get rid of him. But let there be no killing."
+
+Van Slyck turned his attention from the landscape to the _controlleur_.
+There was a look in the captain's face that made Muller wince and shift
+his eyes, a look of cyincal contempt, calm, frank, and unconcealed. It
+was the mask lifting, for Van Slyck despised his associate. Bold and
+unscrupulous, sticking at nothing that might achieve his end, he had no
+patience with the timid, faltering, often conscience-stricken
+_controlleur_.
+
+"Well, _mynheer_," Van Slyck observed at length, "you are getting
+remarkably thin-skinned all of a sudden."
+
+He laughed sardonically. Muller winced and replied hastily:
+
+"I have been thinking, _kapitein_, that the proa crews have been doing
+too much killing lately. I am going to tell Ah Sing that it must be
+stopped. There are other ways--we can unload the ships and land their
+crews on some island--"
+
+"To starve, or to be left to the tender mercies of the Bajaus and the
+Bugis," Van Slyck sneered. "That would be more tender-hearted. You would
+at least transfer the responsibility."
+
+Muller's agitation became more pronounced.
+
+"But we must not let it go on, _kapitein_," he urged. "It hurts the
+business. Pretty soon we will have an investigation, one of these
+gun-boats will pick up one of our proas, somebody will tell, and what
+will happen to us then?"
+
+"We'll be hung," Van Slyck declared succinctly.
+
+Muller's fingers leaped in an involuntary frantic gesture to his throat,
+as though he felt cords tightening around his windpipe. His face paled.
+
+"_Lieve hemel, kapitein_, don't speak of such things," he gasped.
+
+"Then don't talk drivel," Van Slyck snarled. "You can't make big profits
+without taking big chances. And you can't have piracy without a little
+blood-letting. We're in this now, and there's no going back. So stop
+your squealing."
+
+Settling back into his chair, he looked calmly seaward and exhaled huge
+clouds of tobacco smoke. The frown deepened on Muller's troubled brow as
+he stared vacantly across the crushed coral-shell highway.
+
+"You can think of no reason why his excellency should be offended with
+us, _kapitein_?" he ventured anxiously.
+
+The _controlleur's_ eagerness to include him in his misfortune,
+evidenced by the use of the plural pronoun, evoked a sardonic flicker in
+Van Slyck's cold, gray eyes.
+
+"No, _mynheer_, I cannot conceive why the governor should want to get
+rid of so valuable a public servant as you are," he assured ironically.
+"You have certainly done your best. There have been a few disturbances,
+of course, some head-hunting, and the taxes have not been paid, but
+outside of such minor matters everything has done well, very well
+indeed."
+
+"_Donder en bliksem_," Muller exclaimed, "how can I raise taxes when
+those Midianites, the hill Dyaks, will not let my coast Dyaks grow a
+spear of rice? Has there been a month without a raid? Answer me,
+_kapitein_. Have you spent a whole month in the stockade without being
+called to beat back some of these thieving plunderers and drive them
+into their hills?"
+
+The sardonic smile flashed across Van Slyck's face again.
+
+"Quite true, _mynheer_. But sometimes I don't know if I blame the poor
+devils. They tell me they're only trying to get even because your coast
+Dyaks and Ah Sing's crowd rob them so. Ah Sing must be making quite a
+profit out of the slave business. I'll bet he shipped two hundred to
+China last year."
+
+He glanced quizzically at his associate.
+
+"By the way, _mynheer_," he observed, "you ought to know something about
+that. I understand you get a per cent on it."
+
+"I?" Muller exclaimed, and looked affrightedly about him. "I,
+_kapitein_?"
+
+"Oh, yes you do," Van Slyck asserted airily. "You've got money invested
+with Ah Sing in two proas that are handling that end of the business.
+And it's the big end just now. The merchandise pickings are small, and
+that is all I share in."
+
+He looked at Muller meaningly. There was menace in his eyes and menace
+in his voice as he announced:
+
+"I'm only mentioning this, _mynheer_, so that if the new resident should
+happen to be one of us, with a claim to the booty, his share comes out
+of your pot, not mine. Remember that!"
+
+For once cupidity overcame Muller's fear of the sharp-witted cynical
+soldier.
+
+"_Wat de drommel_," he roared, "do you expect me to pay all, _kapitein_,
+all? Not in a thousand years! If there must be a division you shall give
+up your per cent as well as I, _stuiver_ for _stuiver_, _gulden_ for
+_gulden_!"
+
+A hectic spot glowed in each of Van Slyck's cheeks, and his eyes
+glittered. Muller's anger rose.
+
+"Ah Sing shall decide between us," he cried heatedly. "You cannot rob me
+in that way, _kapitein_."
+
+Van Slyck turned on his associate with an oath. "Ah Sing be damned.
+We'll divide as I say, or--"
+
+The pause was more significant than words. Muller's ruddy face paled.
+Van Slyck tapped a forefinger significantly on the arm of his chair.
+
+"Just remember, if the worst comes to the worst, there's this one
+difference between you and me, _mynheer_. I'm not afraid to die, and
+you--are!" He smiled.
+
+Muller's breath came thickly, and he stared fascinatedly into the
+evilly handsome face of the captain, whose eyes were fixed on his with a
+basilisk glare. Several seconds passed; then Van Slyck said:
+
+"See that you remember these things, _mynheer_, when our next accounting
+comes."
+
+The silence that followed was broken by the rhythmic pad-pad of wicker
+sandals on a bamboo floor. Cho Seng came on the veranda, bearing a tray
+laden with two glasses of finest crystal and a decanter of colorless
+liquid, both of which he placed on a small porch table. Drops of dew
+formed thickly on the chilled surface of the decanter and rolled off
+while the Chinaman mixed the juices of fruits and crushed leaves with
+the potent liquor. The unknown discoverer of the priceless recipe he
+used receives more blessings in the Indies daily than all the saints on
+the calendar. When Cho Seng had finished, he withdrew. Muller swallowed
+the contents of his glass in a single gulp. Van Slyck sipped leisurely.
+Gradually the tension lessened. After a while, between sips, the captain
+remarked:
+
+"I hear you have a chance to pick up some prize money."
+
+Muller looked up with interest. "So, _kapitein_!" he exclaimed with
+forced jocularity. "Have you found a place where guilders grow on
+trees?"
+
+"Almost as good as that," Van Slyck replied, playing his fish.
+
+Finesse and indirection were not Muller's forte. "Well, tell us about
+it, _kapitein_," he demanded bluntly.
+
+Van Slyck's eyes twinkled.
+
+"Catch Koyala," he replied.
+
+The captain's meaning sank into Muller's mind slowly. But as
+comprehension began to dawn upon him, his face darkened. The veins
+showed purple under the ruddy skin.
+
+"You are too clever this morning, _kapitein_," he snarled. "Let me
+remind you that this is your duty. The _controlleur_ sits as judge, he
+does not hunt the accused."
+
+Van Slyck laughed.
+
+"And let me remind you, _mynheer_, that I haven't received the
+governor's orders as yet, although they reached you more than a week
+ago." Ironically he added: "You must not let your friendship with Koyala
+blind you to your public duties, _mynheer_."
+
+Muller's face became darker still. He had not told any one, and the fact
+that the orders seemed to be public property both alarmed and angered
+him.
+
+"How did you hear of it?" he demanded.
+
+"Not from you, _mynheer_," Van Slyck mocked. "I really do not remember
+who told me." (As a matter of fact it was Wang Fu, the Chinese
+merchant.)
+
+Muller reflected that officers from the gun-boat which carried Van
+Schouten's mandate might have told more than they should have at the
+stockade. But Koyala had received his warning a full week before, so she
+must be safely hidden in the jungle by now, he reasoned. Pulling himself
+together, he replied urbanely:
+
+"Well, _kapitein_, it is true that I have rather neglected that matter.
+I intended to speak to you to-day. His excellency orders Koyala Bintang
+Burung's arrest."
+
+"The argus pheasant," Van Slyck observed, "is rarely shot. It must be
+trapped."
+
+"_Nu, kapitein_, that is a chance for you to distinguish yourself,"
+Muller replied heartily, confident that Van Slyck could never land
+Koyala.
+
+Van Slyck flecked the ash from his cigar and looked at the glowing coal
+thoughtfully.
+
+"It seems to me that you might be of material assistance, _mynheer_," he
+observed.
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"I have noticed that the witch-woman is not--er--" He glanced at Muller
+quizzically, wondering how far he might venture to go--"not altogether
+indifferent to you."
+
+Muller drew a deep breath. His ruddy face became a grayish purple. His
+clenched hands gripped each other until the bones crunched and the veins
+stood in ridges. Drops of perspiration gathered on his forehead, he
+wiped them away mechanically.
+
+"_Kapitein!_" he gasped.
+
+Van Slyck looked at him increduously, for he had not dreamed Muller's
+feelings ran so deeply.
+
+"You think--she--sometimes thinks of me?"
+
+Van Slyck's nimble wits were calculating the value to him of this new
+weakness of the _controlleur_. He foresaw infinite possibilities,
+Muller in love would be clay in his hands.
+
+"I am positive, _mynheer_," he assured with the utmost gravity.
+
+"_Kapitein_, do not make a mistake," Muller entreated. His voice
+trembled and broke. "Are you absolutely sure?"
+
+Van Slyck restrained a guffaw with difficulty. It was so
+ridiculous--this mountain of flesh, this sweaty, panting porpoise in his
+unwashed linen in love with the slender, graceful Koyala. He choked and
+coughed discreetly.
+
+"I am certain, _mynheer_," he assured.
+
+"Tell me, _kapitein_, what makes you think so?" Muller begged.
+
+Van Slyck forced himself to calmness and a judicial attitude.
+
+"You know I have seen something of women, _mynheer_," he replied
+gravely. "Both women here and in the best houses in Amsterdam, Paris,
+and London. Believe me, they are all the same--a fine figure of a man
+attracts them."
+
+He ran his eye over Muller's form in assumed admiration.
+
+"You have a figure any woman might admire, _mynheer_. I have seen
+Koyala's eyes rest on you, and I know what she was thinking. You have
+but to speak and she is yours."
+
+"Say you so, _kapitein_!" Muller cried ecstatically.
+
+"Absolutely," Van Slyck assured. His eyes narrowed. The devilish humor
+incarnate in him could not resist the temptation to harrow this tortured
+soul. Watching Muller closely, he inquired:
+
+"Then I can expect you to spread the net, _mynheer_?"
+
+The light died in Muller's eyes. A slow, volcanic fury succeeded it. He
+breathed deeply and exhaled the breath in an explosive gasp. His hands
+clenched and the veins in his forehead became almost black. Van Slyck
+and he leaped to their feet simultaneously.
+
+"Kapitein Van Slyck," he cried hoarsely, "you are a scoundrel! You would
+sell your own mother. Get out of my sight, or God help you, I will break
+you in two."
+
+The door of the _controlleur's_ dwelling opened. Muller leaped back, and
+Van Slyck's hand leaped to his holster.
+
+"I am here, Kapitein Van Slyck," a clear, silvery voice announced
+coolly.
+
+Koyala stood in the doorway.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+KOYALA'S WARNING
+
+
+For a moment no one spoke. Koyala, poised lightly on her feet, her
+slender, shapely young figure held rigidly and her chin uptilted, gazed
+steadily at Van Slyck. Her black eyes blazed a scornful defiance. Before
+her contempt even the proud Amsterdammer's arrogance succumbed. He
+reddened shamefacedly under his tan.
+
+"I am here, Kapitein Van Slyck," Koyala repeated clearly. She stepped
+toward him and reached out a slender, shapely arm, bare to the shoulder.
+"Here is my arm, where are your manacles, _kapitein_?"
+
+"Koyala!" Muller gasped huskily. His big body was trembling with such
+violence that the veranda shook.
+
+"This is my affair, _mynheer_," Koyala declared coldly, without removing
+her eyes from Van Slyck. She placed herself directly in front of the
+captain and crossed her wrists.
+
+"If you have no irons, use a cord, _kapitein_," she taunted. "But bind
+fast. The Argus Pheasant is not easily held captive."
+
+Van Slyck thrust her roughly aside.
+
+"Let's have done with this foolishness," he exclaimed bruskly.
+
+"What folly, _mynheer kapitein_?" Koyala demanded frigidly.
+
+"You had no business eavesdropping. If you heard something unpleasant
+you have only yourself to blame."
+
+Koyala's eyes sparkled with anger.
+
+"Eavesdropping, _kapitein_? I came here with a message of great
+importance to _mynheer_ the _controlleur_. Even the birds cock their
+ears to listen when they hear the hunter approach, _kapitein_."
+
+Turning her back with scornful indifference on Van Slyck, she crossed
+over to Muller and placed both her hands on his shoulder. Another fit of
+trembling seized the acting resident and his eyes swam.
+
+"You will forgive me, will you not, _mynheer_, for taking such liberties
+in your house?"
+
+"Of--of course," Muller stammered.
+
+"I heard a little of what was said," Koyala said; "enough to show me
+that I have a good friend here, a friend on whom I can always rely."
+
+Van Slyck caught the emphasis on the word "friend" and smiled
+sardonically.
+
+"Well, _Sister_ Koyala," he remarked mockingly, "if you and _Brother_
+Muller will be seated we will hear your important message."
+
+Muller plumped heavily into a chair. Things had been going too rapidly
+for him, his heavy wits were badly addled, and he needed time to compose
+himself and get a fresh grip on the situation. There was only one other
+chair on the veranda. Perceiving this, Van Slyck sprang forward and
+placed it for Koyala, smiling satirically as he did so. Koyala frowned
+with annoyance, hesitated a moment, then accepted it. Van Slyck swung a
+leg over the veranda rail.
+
+"Your message, my dear Koyala," he prompted. He used the term of
+endearment lingeringly, with a quick side glance at Muller, but the
+_controlleur_ was oblivious to both.
+
+"The message is for Mynheer Muller," Koyala announced icily.
+
+"Ah? So?" Van Slyck swung the leg free and rose. "Then I am not needed.
+I bid the dear bother and sister adieux."
+
+He made an elaborate French bow and started to leave. The embarrassed
+Muller made a hasty protest.
+
+"Ho, _kapitein_!" he cried, "do not leave us. _Donder en bliksem!_ the
+message may be for us both. Who is it from, Koyala?"
+
+Van Slyck was divided between two desires. He saw that Muller was in a
+panic at the thought of being left alone with Koyala, and for that
+reason was keenly tempted to get out of sight as quickly as possible. On
+the other hand he was curious to hear her communication, aware that only
+a matter of unusual import could have called her from the bush.
+Undecided, he lingered on the steps.
+
+"It was from Ah Sing," Koyala announced.
+
+Van Slyck's indecision vanished. He stepped briskly back on the porch.
+
+"From Ah Sing?" he exclaimed. "Mynheer Muller and I were just discussing
+his affairs. Does it concern the new resident we are to have?"
+
+"It does," Koyala acknowledged.
+
+"Who is it?" Muller and the captain cried in the same breath.
+
+Koyala glanced vindictively at Van Slyck.
+
+"You are sure that you will not sell me to him, _mynheer kapitein_?"
+
+Van Slyck scowled. "Tell us about the resident," he directed curtly.
+
+Koyala's eyes sparkled maliciously.
+
+"The new resident, _mynheer kapitein_, seems to have a higher opinion of
+me than you have. You see, he has already persuaded the governor to
+withdraw the offer he made for my person."
+
+Van Slyck bit his lip, but ignored the thrust.
+
+"Then he's one of us?" he demanded bruskly.
+
+"On the contrary, he is a most dangerous enemy," Koyala contradicted.
+
+"_Lieve hemel_, don't keep us waiting," Muller cried impatiently. "Who
+is it, Koyala?"
+
+"A sailor, _mynheer_," Koyala announced.
+
+"A sailor?" Van Slyck exclaimed incredulously. "Who?"
+
+"Mynheer Peter Gross, of Batavia."
+
+Van Slyck and Muller stared at each other blankly, each vainly trying to
+recall ever having heard the name before.
+
+"Pieter Gross, Pieter Gross, he must be a newcomer," Van Slyck remarked.
+"I have not heard of him before, have you, _mynheer_?"
+
+"There is no one by that name in the colonial service," Muller declared,
+shaking his head. "You say he is of Batavia, Koyala?"
+
+"Of Batavia, _mynheer_, but by birth and upbringing, and everything
+else, a Yankee."
+
+"A Yankee?" her hearers chorused incredulously.
+
+"Yes, a Yankee. Mate on a trading vessel, or so he was a year ago. He
+has been in the Indies the past seven years."
+
+Van Slyck broke into a roar of laughter.
+
+"Now, by the beard of Nassau, what joke is Chanticleer playing us now?"
+he cried. "He must be anxious to get that Yankee out of the way."
+
+Neither Koyala nor Muller joined in his mirth. Muller frowned
+thoughtfully. There was the look in his eyes of one who is striving to
+recollect some almost forgotten name or incident.
+
+"Pieter Gross, Pieter Gross," he repeated thoughtfully. "Where have I
+heard that name before?"
+
+"Do you remember what happened to Gogolu of Lombock the time he captured
+Lieutenant de Koren and his commando?" Koyala asked. "How an American
+sailor and ten of his crew surprised Gogolu's band, killed a great many
+of them, and took their prisoners away from them? That was Pieter
+Gross."
+
+"_Donder en bliksem._ I knew I had reason to remember that name," Muller
+cried in alarm. "We have no Mynheer de Jonge to deal with this time,
+_kapitein_. This Yankee is a fighter."
+
+"Good!" Van Slyck exclaimed with satisfaction. "We will give him his
+bellyful. There will be plenty for him to do in the bush, eh, _mynheer_?
+And if he gets too troublesome there are always ways of getting rid of
+him." He raised his eyebrows significantly.
+
+"This Yankee is no fool," Muller rejoined anxiously. "I heard about that
+Lombock affair--it was a master coup. We have a bad man to deal with,
+_kapitein_."
+
+Van Slyck smiled cynically.
+
+"Humph, _mynheer_, you make me tired. From the way you talk one would
+think these Yankees can fight as well as they can cheat the brown-skins.
+We will fill him up with Hollands, we will swell his foolish head with
+praise till it is ready to burst, and then we will engineer an uprising
+in the hill district. Koyala can manage that for us. When Mynheer, the
+Yankee, hears of it he will be that thirsty for glory there will be no
+holding him. We will start him off with our blessings, and then we will
+continue our business in peace. What do you think of the plan, my dear
+Koyala?"
+
+"Evidently you don't know Mynheer Gross," Koyala retorted coldly.
+
+"Do you?" Van Slyck asked, quick as a flash.
+
+"I have seen him," Koyala acknowledged. "Once. It was at the mouth of
+the Abbas River." She described the incident.
+
+"He is no fool," she concluded. "He is a strong man, and an able man,
+one you will have to look out for."
+
+"And a devilish handsome young man, too, I'll wager," Van Slyck observed
+maliciously with a sidelong glance at Muller. The _controlleur's_ ruddy
+face darkened with a quick spasm of jealousy, at which the captain
+chuckled.
+
+"Yes, a remarkably handsome man," Koyala replied coolly. "We need
+handsome men in Bulungan, don't we, captain? Handsome white men?"
+
+Van Slyck looked at her quickly. He felt a certain significance in her
+question that eluded him. It was not the first time she had indulged in
+such remarks, quite trivial on their face, but invested with a
+mysterious something the way she said them. He knew her tragic history
+and was sharp enough to guess that her unholy alliance with Ah Sing grew
+out of a savage desire to revenge herself on a government which had
+permitted her to be brought up a white woman and a victim of appetites
+and desires she could never satisfy. What he did not know, did not even
+dream, was the depth of her hate against the whole white race and her
+fixed purpose to sweep the last white man out of Bulungan.
+
+"We do have a dearth of society here in Bulungan," he conceded. "Do you
+find it so, too?"
+
+The question was a direct stab, for not a white woman in the residency
+would open her doors to Koyala. The Dyak blood leaped to her face; for a
+moment it seemed that she would spring at him, then she controlled
+herself with a powerful effort and replied in a voice studiedly
+reserved:
+
+"I do, _mynheer kapitein_, but one must expect to have a limited circle
+when there are so few that can be trusted."
+
+At this juncture Muller's jealous fury overcame all bounds. Jealousy
+accomplished what all Van Slyck's scorn and threats could not do, it
+made him eager to put the newcomer out of the way.
+
+"What are we going to do?" he thundered. "Sit here like turtles on a
+mud-bank while this Yankee lords it over us and ruins our business?
+_Donder en bliksem_, I won't, whatever the rest of you may do.
+_Kapitein_, get your wits to work; what is the best way to get rid of
+this Yankee?"
+
+Van Slyck looked at him in surprise. Then his quick wit instantly
+guessed the reason for the outburst.
+
+"Well, _mynheer_," he replied, shrugging his shoulders indifferently,
+"it seems to me that this is a matter you are more interested in than I.
+Mynheer Gross does not come to displace me."
+
+"You are ready enough to scheme murders if there is a _gulden_ in it for
+you, but you have no counsel for a friend, eh?" Muller snarled. "Let me
+remind you, _kapitein_, that you are involved just as heavily as I."
+
+Van Slyck laughed in cynical good humor.
+
+"Let it never be said that a Van Slyck is so base as that, _mynheer_.
+Supposing we put our heads together. In the first place, let us give
+Koyala a chance to tell what she knows. Where did you get the news,
+Koyala?"
+
+"That makes no difference, _mynheer kapitein_," Koyala rejoined coolly.
+"I have my own avenues of information."
+
+Van Slyck frowned with annoyance.
+
+"When does he come here?" he inquired.
+
+"We may expect him any time," Koyala stated. "He is to come when the
+rainy season closes, and that will be in a few days."
+
+"_Donder en bliksem_, does Ah Sing know this?" Muller asked anxiously.
+
+Van Slyck's lips curled in cynical amusement at the inanity of the
+question.
+
+"He knows," Koyala declared.
+
+"Of course he knows," Van Slyck added sarcastically. "The question is,
+what is he going to do?"
+
+"I do not know," Koyala replied. "He can tell you that himself when he
+comes here."
+
+"He's coming here?" Van Slyck asked quickly.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"When?"
+
+"I am not in Ah Sing's councils," Koyala declared coldly.
+
+"The deuce you're not," Van Slyck retorted irritably. "You seem to know
+a lot of things we hadn't heard of. What does Ah Sing expect us to do?
+Pander to this Yankee deck-scrubber until he comes?"
+
+"We will do what we think best," Muller observed grimly.
+
+Koyala looked at him steadily until his glance fell.
+
+"You will both leave him alone and attend to your own affairs," she
+announced. "The new resident will be taken care of by Ah Sing--and by
+me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE LONG ARM OF AH SING
+
+
+Two weeks after receiving his appointment as resident of Bulungan, Peter
+Gross stood on a wharf along the Batavia water-front and looked
+wistfully out to sea. It was early evening and quite dark, for the moon
+had not risen and the eastern sky from the zenith down was obscured by
+fitful patches of cloud, gray-winged messengers of rain. In the west,
+Venus glowed with a warm, seductive light, like a lamp in a Spanish
+garden. A brisk and vigorous breeze roughed the waters of the bay that
+raced shoreward in long rollers to escape its impetuous wooing.
+
+Peter Gross breathed the salt air deeply and stared steadfastly into the
+west, for he was sick at heart. Not until now did he realize what giving
+up the sea meant to him. The sea!--it had been a second mother to him,
+receiving him into its open arms when he ran away from the drudgery of
+the farm to satisfy the wanderlust that ached and ached in his boyish
+heart. Ay, it had mothered him, cradling him at night on its fond bosom
+while it sang a wild and eerie refrain among sail and cordage, buffeting
+him in its ill-humor, feeding him, and even clothing him. His first
+yellow oilskin, he remembered poignantly, had been salvaged from a
+wreck.
+
+Now he was leaving that mother. He was leaving the life he had lived for
+ten years. He was denying the dreams and ambitions of his youth. He was
+casting aside the dream of some day standing on the deck of his own ship
+with a score of smart sailors to jump at his command. A feeling akin to
+the home-sickness he had suffered when, a lad of fifteen, he lived
+through his first storm at sea, in the hold of a cattle-ship, came over
+him now. Almost he regretted his decision.
+
+Since bidding good-bye to Captain Threthaway two weeks before, he had
+picked twenty-four of the twenty-five men he intended to take with him
+for the pacification of Bulungan. The twenty-fifth he expected to sign
+that night at the home of his quondam skipper, Captain Roderick Rouse,
+better known as Roaring Rory. Rouse had been a trader in the south seas
+for many years and was now skipper of a smart little cottage in Ryswyk,
+the European residence section of Batavia. Peter Gross's presence at the
+water-front was explained by the fact that he had an hour to spare and
+naturally drifted to Tanjong Priok, the shipping center.
+
+The selection of the company had not been an easy task. Peter Gross had
+not expected that it would be. He found the type of men he wanted even
+scarcer than he anticipated. For the past two weeks beachcombers and
+loafers along the wharves, and tourists, traders, and gentlemen
+adventurers at the hotels had looked curiously at the big, well-dressed
+sailor who always seemed to have plenty of time and money to spend, and
+was always ready to gossip. Some of them tried to draw him out. To these
+he talked vaguely about seeing a little of Java before he went sailoring
+again. Opinion became general that for a sailor Peter Gross was
+remarkably close-mouthed.
+
+While he was to all appearances idly dawdling about, Peter Gross was in
+reality getting information concerning hardy young men of adventuresome
+spirit who might be persuaded to undertake an expedition that meant risk
+of life and who could be relied upon. Each man was carefully sounded
+before he was signed, and when signed, was told to keep his mouth shut.
+
+But the major problem, to find a capable leader of such a body of men,
+was still unsolved. Peter Gross realized that his duties as resident
+precluded him from taking personal charge. He also recognized his
+limitations. He was a sailor; a soldier was needed to whip the company
+in shape, a bush-fighter who knew how to dispose those under him when
+Dyak arrows and Chinese bullets began to fly overhead in the jungle.
+
+Two weeks of diligent search had failed to unearth any one with the
+necessary qualifications. Peter Gross was beginning to despair when he
+thought of his former skipper, Captain Rouse. Looking him up, he
+explained his predicament.
+
+"By the great Polar B'ar," Roaring Rory bellowed when Peter Gross had
+finished his recital. "How the dickens do you expect to clean out that
+hell-hole with twenty-five men? Man, there's a hundred thousand Dyaks
+alone, let alone those rat-faced Chinks that come snoopin' down like
+buzzards smellin' carrion, and the cut-throat Bugis, and the bad men the
+English chased out of Sarawak, and the Sulu pirates, and Lord knows what
+all. It's suicide."
+
+"I'm not going to Bulungan to make war," Peter Gross explained mildly.
+
+Roaring Rory spat a huge cud of tobacco into a cuspidor six feet away,
+the better to express his astonishment.
+
+"Then what in blazes are you goin' there for?" he roared.
+
+Peter Gross permitted himself one of his rare smiles. There was a
+positive twinkle in his eyes as he replied:
+
+"To convince them I am their best friend."
+
+Roaring Rory's eyes opened wide.
+
+"Convince 'em--what?" he gasped.
+
+"That I am their friend."
+
+The old sea captain stared at his ex-mate.
+
+"You're jokin'," he declared.
+
+"I was never more serious in my life," Peter Gross assured gravely.
+
+"Then you're a damn' fool," Roaring Rory asserted. "Yes, sir, a damn'
+fool. I didn't think it of ye, Peter."
+
+"It will take time, but I believe I see my way," Peter Gross replied
+quietly. He explained his plan briefly, and as he described how he
+expected to win the confidence and support of the hillmen, Roaring Rory
+became calmer.
+
+"Mebbe you can do it, Peter, mebbe you can do it," he conceded
+dubiously. "But that devil of an Ah Sing has a long arm, and by the bye,
+I'd keep indoors after sundown if I were you."
+
+"But this isn't getting me the man I need," Peter Gross pointed out.
+"Can you recommend any one, captain?"
+
+Roaring Rory squared back in his chair.
+
+"I hain't got the latitude and longitude of this-here proposition of
+yours figured just yet," he replied, producing a plug of tobacco and
+biting off a generous portion before passing it hospitably to his
+visitor. "Just what kind of a man do you want?"
+
+Peter Gross drew his chair a few inches nearer the captain's.
+
+"What I want," he said, "is a man that I can trust--no matter what
+happens. He doesn't need to know seamanship, but he's got to be
+absolutely square, a man the sight of gold or women won't turn. He has
+to be a soldier, an ex-army officer, and a bush-fighter, a man who has
+seen service in the jungle. A man from the Philippines would just fill
+the bill. He has to be the sort of a man his men will swear by. And he
+has to have a clean record."
+
+Roaring Rory grunted. "Ye don't want nothin', do ye? I'd recommend the
+Angel Gabriel."
+
+"There is such a man," Peter Gross insisted. "There always is. You've
+got to help me find him, captain."
+
+Rouse scratched his head profoundly and squinted hard. By and bye a big
+grin overspread his features.
+
+"I've got a nevvy," he announced, "who'd be crazy to be with ye. He's
+only seventeen, but big for his age. He's out on my plantation now. Hold
+on," he roared as Peter Gross attempted to interrupt. "I'm comin' to
+number twenty-five. This nevvy has a particular friend that's with him
+now out to the plantation. 'Cordin' to his log, this chap's the very man
+ye're lookin' for. Was a captain o' volunteer infantry and saw service
+in the Philippines. When his time run out he went to Shanghai for a
+rubber-goods house, and learned all there is to know about Chinks. He's
+the best rifle shot in Java. An' he can handle men. He ain't much on the
+brag order, but he sure is all there."
+
+"That is the sort of a man I have been looking for," Peter Gross
+observed with satisfaction.
+
+"He's worth lookin' up at any rate," Captain Rouse declared. "If you
+care to see him and my nevvy, you're in luck. They're comin' back
+to-night. They had a little business here, so they run down together and
+will bunk with me. I expect them here at nine o'clock, and if ye're on
+deck I'll interduce you. What d'ye say?"
+
+"I knew you wouldn't fail me, captain," Peter Gross replied warmly.
+"I'll be here."
+
+The shrill whistle of a coaster interrupted Peter Gross's melancholy
+reflections. He recollected with a start that it must be near the time
+he had promised to be at Captain Rouse's cottage. Leaving the wharves,
+he ambled along the main traveled highway toward the business district
+until overtaken by a belated victoria whose driver he hailed.
+
+The cool of evening was descending from the hills as the vehicle turned
+into the street on which Captain Rouse lived. It was a wide, tree-lined
+lane, with oil lamps every six or seven hundred feet whose yellow rays
+struggled ineffectually to banish the somber gloom shed by the huge
+masses of foliage that shut out the heavens. Feeling cramped from his
+long ride and a trifle chill, Peter Gross suddenly decided to walk the
+remainder of the distance, halted his driver, paid the fare, and
+dismissed him. Whistling cheerily, a rollicking chanty of the sea to
+which his feet kept time, he walked briskly along.
+
+Cutting a bar of song in the middle, he stopped suddenly to listen.
+Somewhere in the darkness behind him someone had stumbled into an acacia
+hedge and had uttered a stifled exclamation of pain. There was no other
+sound, except the soughing of the breeze through the tree-tops.
+
+"A drunken coolie," he observed to himself. He stepped briskly along and
+resumed his whistling. The song came to an abrupt close as his keen ears
+caught a faint shuffling not far behind, a shuffling like the scraping
+of a soft-soled shoe against the plank walk. He turned swiftly, ears
+pricked, and looked steadily in the direction that the sound came from,
+but the somber shadows defied his searching glance.
+
+"Only coolies," he murmured, but an uneasy feeling came upon him and he
+quickened his pace. His right hand involuntarily slipped to his
+coat-pocket for the pistol he customarily carried. It was not there. A
+moment's thought and he recollected he had left it in his room.
+
+As he reached the next street-lamp he hesitated. Ahead of him was a long
+area of unlighted thoroughfare. Evidently the lamp-lighter had neglected
+his duties. Or, Peter Gross reflected, some malicious hand might have
+extinguished the lights. It was on this very portion of the lane that
+Captain Rouse's cottage stood, only a few hundred yards farther.
+
+He listened sharply a moment. Back in the shadows off from the lane a
+piano tinkled, the langorous Dream Waltz from the Tales of Hoffman. A
+lighted victoria clattered toward him, then turned into a brick-paved
+driveway. Else not a sound. The very silence was ominous.
+
+Walking slowly, to accustom his eyes to the gloom, Peter Gross left the
+friendly circle of light. As the shadows began to envelop him he heard
+the sound of running feet on turf. Some one inside the hedge was trying
+to overhaul him. He broke into a dog-trot.
+
+A low whistle cut the silence. Leaping forward, he broke into a sprint.
+Rouse's cottage was only a hundred yards ahead--a dash and he would be
+there.
+
+A whistle from in front. A like sound from the other side of the lane.
+The stealthy tap-tapping of feet, sandaled feet, from every direction.
+
+For a moment Peter Gross experienced the sensation of a hunted creature
+driven to bay. It was only for a moment, however, and then he acquainted
+himself with his surroundings in a quick, comprehensive glance. On one
+side of him was the hedge, on the other a line of tall kenari-trees.
+
+Vaulting the hedge, he ran silently and swiftly in its shadow, hugging
+the ground like a fox in the brush. Suddenly and without warning he
+crashed full-tilt into a man coming from the opposite direction, caught
+him low, just beneath the ribs. The man crashed back into the hedge with
+an explosive gasp.
+
+Ahead were white pickets, the friendly white pickets that enclosed
+Captain Rouse's grounds. He dashed toward them, but he was too late. Out
+of a mass of shrubbery a short, squat figure leaped at him. There was
+the flash of a knife. Peter Gross had no chance to grapple with his
+assailant. He dropped like a log, an old sailor's trick, and the short,
+squat figure fell over him. He had an instant glimpse of a yellow face,
+fiendish in its malignancy, of a flying queue, of fingers that groped
+futilely, then he rose.
+
+At the same instant a cat-like something sprang on him from behind,
+twisted its legs around his body, and fastened its talons into his
+throat. The impact staggered him, but as he found his footing he tore
+the claw-like fingers loose and shook the creature off. Simultaneously
+two shadows in front of him materialized into Chinamen with gleaming
+knives. As they leaped at him a red-hot iron seared his right forearm
+and a bolt of lightning numbed his left shoulder.
+
+A sound like a hoarse, dry cackle came from Peter Gross's throat. His
+long arms shot out and each of his huge hands caught one of his
+assailants by the throat. Bringing their heads together with a sound
+like breaking egg-shells, he tossed them aside.
+
+Before he could turn to flee a dozen shadowy forms semi-circled about
+him. The starlight dimly revealed gaunt, yellow faces and glaring eyes,
+the eyes of a wolf-pack. The circle began to narrow. Knives glittered.
+But none of the crouching forms dared venture within reach of the
+gorilla arms.
+
+Then the lion arose in Peter Gross. Beside him was an ornamental iron
+flower-pot. Stooping quickly, he seized it and lifted it high above his
+head. They shrank from him, those crouching forms, with shrill pipings
+of alarm, but it was too late. He hurled it at the foremost. It caught
+two of them and bowled them over like ninepins. Then he leaped at the
+others. His mighty right caught one under the chin and laid him flat.
+His left dove into the pit of another's stomach. The unfortunate
+Chinaman collapsed like a sack of grain.
+
+They ringed him round. A sharp, burning sensation swept across his
+back--it was the slash of a knife. A blade sank into the fleshy part of
+his throat, and he tore it impatiently away. He struck out savagely
+into the densely packed mass of humanity and a primitive cave-man surge
+of joy thrilled him at the impact of his fists against human flesh and
+bone.
+
+But the fight was too unequal. Blood started from a dozen cuts; it
+seemed to him he was afire within and without. His blows began to lack
+power and a film came over his eyes, but he struck out the more
+savagely, furious at his own weakness. The darkness thickened. The
+figures before him, beside him, behind him, became more confused. Two
+and three heads bobbed where he thought there was only one. His blows
+went wild. The jackals were pulling the lion down.
+
+As he pulled himself together for a last desperate effort to plough
+through to the security of Rouse's home, the sharp crack of a revolver
+sounded in his ear. At the same instant the lawn leaped into a blinding
+light, a light in which the gory figures of his assailants stood out in
+dazed and uncertain relief. The acrid fumes of gunpowder filled his
+nostrils.
+
+Darting toward the hedges like rats scurrying to their holes, the
+Chinamen sought cover. Peter Gross hazily saw two men, white men, each
+of them carrying a flash-light and a pistol, vault the pickets. A third
+followed, swinging a lantern and bellowing for the "_wacht_" (police).
+It was Roaring Rory.
+
+"Are you hurt?" the foremost asked as he approached.
+
+"Not bad, I guess," Peter Gross replied thickly. He lifted his hand to
+his forehead in a dazed, uncertain way and looked stupidly at the blood
+that gushed over it. A cleft seemed to open at his feet. He felt himself
+sinking--down, down, down to the very foundations of the world. Dimly he
+heard the cry:
+
+"Quick, Paddy, lend a hand."
+
+Then came oblivion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+CAPTAIN CARVER SIGNS
+
+
+When Peter Gross recovered consciousness fifteen minutes later he found
+himself in familiar quarters. He was lying on a cot in Captain Rouse's
+den, commonly designated by that gentleman as "the cabin." Captain
+Rouse's face, solemn as an owl's, was leaning over him. As he blinked
+the captain's lips expanded into a grin.
+
+"Wot did I tell ye, 'e's all right!" the captain roared delightedly.
+"Demmit, ye can't kill a Sunda schooner bucko mate with a little
+bloodlettin'. Ah Sing pretty near got ye, eh, Peter?"
+
+The last was to Peter Gross, who was sitting up and taking inventory of
+his various bandages, also of his hosts. There were two strangers in the
+room. One was a short, stocky young man with a pugnacious Irish nose,
+freckly face, and hair red as a burnished copper boiler. His eyes were
+remarkably like the jovial navigator's, Peter Gross observed. The other
+was a dark, well-dressed man of about forty, with a military bearing and
+reserved air. He bore the stamp of gentility.
+
+"Captain Carver," Roaring Rory announced. "My old mate, Peter Gross, the
+best man as ever served under me."
+
+The elder man stepped forward and clasped Peter Gross's hand. The latter
+tried to rise, but Carver restrained him.
+
+"You had better rest a few moments, Mr. Gross," he said. There was a
+quiet air of authority in his voice that instantly attracted the
+resident, who gave him a keen glance.
+
+"My nevvy, Paddy, Peter, the doggonest young scamp an old sea-horse ever
+tried to raise," Rouse bellowed. "I wish I could have him for'ard with a
+crew like we used to have on the old _Gloucester Maid_." He guffawed
+boisterously while the younger of the two strangers, his face aglow with
+a magnetic smile, sprang forward and caught Peter Gross's hand in a
+quick, dynamic grip.
+
+"Them's the lads ye've got to thank for bein' here," Roaring Rory
+announced, with evident pride. "If they hadn't heard the fracas and
+butted in, the Chinks would have got ye sure."
+
+"I rather fancied it was you whom I have to thank for being here," Peter
+Gross acknowledged warmly. "You were certainly just in time."
+
+"Captain Rouse is too modest," Captain Carver said. "It was he who heard
+the disturbance and jumped to the conclusion you might be--in
+difficulty."
+
+The old navigator shook his head sadly. "I warned ye, Peter," he said;
+"I warned ye against that old devil, Ah Sing. Didn't I tell you to be
+careful at night? Ye ain't fit to be trusted alone, Peter."
+
+"I think you did," Peter Gross acknowledged with a twinkle. "But didn't
+you fix our appointment for to-night?"
+
+"Ye should have carried a gun," Roaring Rory reproved. "Leastwise a
+belayin'-pin. Ye like to use your fists too well, Peter. Fists are no
+good against knives. I'm a peace-lovin' man, Peter, 'twould be better
+for ye if ye patterned after me."
+
+Peter Gross smiled, for Roaring Rory's record for getting into scrapes
+was known the length and breadth of the South Pacific. Looking up, he
+surprised a merry gleam in Captain Carver's eyes and Paddy striving hard
+to remain sober.
+
+"I'll remember your advice, captain," Peter Gross assured.
+
+"Humph!" Roaring Rory grunted. "Well, Peter, is your head clear enough
+to talk business?"
+
+"I think so," Peter Gross replied slowly. "Have you explained the matter
+I came here to discuss?"
+
+"Summat, summat," Rouse grunted. "I leave the talking to you, Peter."
+
+"Captain Rouse told me you wanted some one to take charge of a company
+of men for a dangerous enterprise somewhere in the South Pacific,"
+Carver replied. "He said it meant risking life. That might mean anything
+to piracy. I understand, however, that your enterprise has official
+sanction."
+
+"My appointment is from the governor-general of the Netherlands East
+Indies," Peter Gross stated.
+
+"Ah, yes."
+
+"I need a man to drill and lead twenty-five men, all of whom have had
+some military training. I want a man who knows the Malays and their ways
+and knows the bush."
+
+"I was in the Philippines for two years as a captain of volunteer
+infantry," Carver said. "I was in Shanghai for four years and had
+considerable dealings at that time with the Chinese. I know a little of
+their language."
+
+"Have you any one dependent on you?"
+
+"I am a bachelor," Captain Carver replied.
+
+"Does twenty-five hundred a year appeal to you?"
+
+"That depends entirely on what services I should be expected to render."
+
+Confident that he had landed his man, and convinced from Captain Rouse's
+recommendation and his own observations that Carver was the very person
+he had been seeking, Peter Gross threw reserve aside and frankly stated
+the object of his expedition and the difficulties before him.
+
+"You see," he concluded, "the game is dangerous, but the stakes are big.
+I have no doubt but what Governor Van Schouten will deal handsomely with
+every one who helps restore order in the residency."
+
+Captain Carver was frowning.
+
+"I don't like the idea of playing one native element against another,"
+he declared. "It always breeds trouble. The only people who have ever
+been successful in pulling it off is the British in India, and they had
+to pay for it in blood during the Mutiny. The one way to pound the fear
+of God into the hearts of these benighted browns and blacks is to show
+them you're master. Once they get the idea the white man can't keep his
+grip without them, look out for treachery."
+
+"I've thought of that," Peter Gross replied sadly. "But to do as you
+suggest will take at least two regiments and will cost the lives of
+several thousand Dyaks. You will have to lay the country bare, and you
+will sow a seed of hate that is bound to bear fruit. But if I can
+persuade them to trust me, Bulungan will be pacified. Brooke did it in
+Sarawak, and I believe I can do it here."
+
+Carver stroked his chin in silence.
+
+"You know the country," he said. "If you have faith and feel you want
+me, I'll go with you."
+
+"I'll have a lawyer make the contracts at once," Peter Gross replied.
+"We can sign them to-morrow."
+
+"Can't you take me with you, too, Mr. Gross?" Paddy Rouse asked eagerly.
+
+Peter Gross looked at the lad. The boy's face was eloquent with
+entreaty.
+
+"How old are you?" he asked.
+
+"Seventeen," came the halting acknowledgment. "But I've done a man's
+work for a year. Haven't I, avunculus?"
+
+Captain Rouse nodded a reluctant assent. "I hate to miss ye, my boy," he
+said, "but maybe a year out there would get the deviltry out of ye and
+make a man of ye. If Peter wants ye, he may have ye."
+
+A flash of inspiration came to Peter Gross as he glanced at the boy's
+tousled shock of fiery-red hair.
+
+"I'll take you on a private's pay," he said. "A thousand a year. Is that
+satisfactory?"
+
+"I'm signed," Paddy whooped. "Hooray!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Peter Gross and his company left Tanjong Priok a fortnight later
+Captain Rouse bade them a wistful good-bye at the wharf.
+
+"Take care of the lad; he's all I got," he said huskily to the resident.
+"If it wasn't for the damned plantation I'd go with ye, too."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+MYNHEER MULLER'S DREAM
+
+
+The Dutch gun-boat _Prins Lodewyk_, a terror to evil-doers in the Java
+and Celebes seas, steamed smartly up Bulungan Bay and swung into
+anchorage a quarter of a mile below the assemblage of junks and Malay
+proas clustered at the mouth of Bulungan River. She carried a new flag
+below her ensign, the resident's flag. As she swung around, her guns
+barked a double salute, first to the flag and then to the resident.
+Peter Gross and his company were come to Bulungan.
+
+The pert brass cannon of the stockade answered gun for gun. It was the
+yapping of terrier against mastiff, for the artillery of the fortress
+was of small caliber and an ancient pattern. Its chief service was to
+intimidate the natives of the town who had once been bombarded during an
+unfortunate rebellion and had never quite forgotten the sensation of
+being under shell-fire.
+
+Peter Gross leaned over the rail of the vessel and looked fixedly
+shoreward. His strong, firm chin was grimly set. There were lines in his
+face that had not been there a few weeks before when he was tendered and
+accepted his appointment as resident. Responsibility was sitting
+heavily upon his shoulders, for he now realized the magnitude of the
+task he had so lightly assumed.
+
+Captain Carver joined him. "All's well, so far, Mr. Gross," he observed.
+
+Peter Gross let the remark stand without comment for a moment. "Ay,
+all's well so far," he assented heavily.
+
+There was another pause.
+
+"Are we going ashore this afternoon?" Carver inquired.
+
+"That is my intention."
+
+"Then you'll want the boys to get their traps on deck. At what hour will
+you want them?"
+
+"I think I shall go alone," Peter Gross replied quietly.
+
+Carver looked up quickly. "Not alone, Mr. Gross," he expostulated.
+
+Peter Gross looked sternly shoreward at the open water-front of Bulungan
+town, where dugouts, sampans, and crude bark canoes were frantically
+shooting about to every point of the compass in helter-skelter
+confusion.
+
+"I think it would be best," he said.
+
+Carver shook his head. "I don't think I'd do it, Mr. Gross," he advised
+gravely. "I don't think you ought to take the chance."
+
+"To convince an enemy you are not afraid is often half the fight," Peter
+Gross observed.
+
+"A good rule, but it doesn't apply to a pack of assassins," Carver
+replied. "And that's what we seem to be up against. You can't take too
+big precautions against whelps that stab in the dark."
+
+Peter Gross attempted no contradiction. The ever increasing concourse of
+scantily clad natives along the shore held his attention. Carver scanned
+his face anxiously.
+
+"They pretty nearly got you at Batavia, Mr. Gross," he reminded, anxiety
+overcoming his natural disinclination to give a superior unsolicited
+advice.
+
+"You may be right," Peter Gross conceded mildly.
+
+Carver pushed his advantage. "If Ah Sing's tong men will take a chance
+at murdering you in Batavia under the nose of the governor, they won't
+balk at putting you out of the way in Bulungan, a thousand miles from
+nowhere. There's a hundred ways they can get rid of a man and make it
+look like an accident."
+
+"We must expect to take some risks."
+
+Perceiving the uselessness of argument, Carver made a final plea. "At
+least let me go with you," he begged.
+
+Peter Gross sighed and straightened to his full six feet two. "Thank
+you, captain," he said, "but I must go alone. I want to teach Bulungan
+one thing to-day--that Peter Gross is not afraid."
+
+While Captain Carver was vainly trying to dissuade Peter Gross from
+going ashore, Kapitein Van Slyck hastened from his quarters at the fort
+to the _controlleur's_ house. Muller was an uncertain quantity in a
+crisis, the captain was aware; it was vital that they act in perfect
+accord. He found his associate pacing agitatedly in the shade of a
+screen of nipa palms between whose broad leaves he could watch the trim
+white hull and spotless decks of the gun-boat.
+
+Muller was smoking furiously. At the crunch of Van Slyck's foot on the
+coraled walk he turned quickly, with a nervous start, and his face
+blanched.
+
+"Oh, _kapitein_," he exclaimed with relief, "is it you?"
+
+"Who else would it be?" Van Slyck growled, perceiving at once that
+Muller had worked himself into a frenzy of apprehension.
+
+"I don't know. I thought, perhaps, Cho Seng--"
+
+"You look as though you'd seen a ghost. What's there about Cho Seng to
+be afraid of?"
+
+"--that Cho Seng had come to tell me Mynheer Gross was here," Muller
+faltered.
+
+Van Slyck looked at him keenly, through narrowed lids.
+
+"Hum!" he grunted with emphasis. "So it is Mynheer Gross already with
+you, eh, Muller?"
+
+There was a significant emphasis on the "_mynheer_."
+
+Muller flushed. "Don't get the notion I'm going to sweet-mouth to him
+simply because he is resident, _kapitein_," he retorted, recovering his
+dignity. "You know me well enough--my foot is in this as deeply as
+yours."
+
+"Yes, and deeper," Van Slyck replied significantly.
+
+The remark escaped Muller. He was thrusting aside the screen of nipa
+leaves to peer toward the vessel.
+
+"No," he exclaimed with a sigh of relief, "he has not left the ship yet.
+There are two civilians at the forward rail--come, _kapitein_, do you
+think one of them is he?"
+
+He opened the screen wider for Van Slyck. The captain stepped forward
+with an expression of bored indifference and peered through the
+aperture.
+
+"H-m!" he muttered. "I wouldn't be surprised if the big fellow is Gross.
+They say he has the inches."
+
+"I hope to heaven he stays aboard to-day," Muller prayed fervently.
+
+"He can come ashore whenever he wants to, for all I care," Van Slyck
+remarked.
+
+Muller straightened and let the leaves fall back.
+
+"_Lieve hemel, neen, kapitein_," he expostulated. "What would I do if he
+should question me. My reports are undone, there are a dozen cases to be
+tried, I have neglected to settle matters with some of the chiefs, and
+my accounts are in a muddle. I don't see how I am ever going to
+straighten things out--then there are those other things--what will he
+say?"
+
+He ran his hands through his hair in nervous anxiety. Van Slyck
+contemplated his agitation with a darkening frown. "Is the fool going to
+pieces?" was the captain's harrowing thought. He clapped a hand on
+Muller's shoulder with an assumption of bluff heartiness.
+
+"'Sufficient unto the day--' You know the proverb, _mynheer_," he said
+cheerfully. "There's nothing to worry about--we won't give him a chance
+at you for two weeks. Kapitein Enckel of the _Prins_ will probably bring
+him ashore to-day. We'll receive him here; I'll bring my lieutenants
+over, and Cho Seng can make us a big dinner.
+
+"To-night there will be schnapps and reminiscences, to-morrow morning a
+visit of inspection to the fort, to-morrow afternoon a _bitchara_ with
+the Rajah Wobanguli, and the day after a visit to Bulungan town. At
+night visits to Wang Fu's house and Marinus Blauwpot's, with cards and
+Hollands. I'll take care of him for you, and you can get your books in
+shape. Go to Barang, if you want to, the day we visit Rotterdam--leave
+word with Cho Seng you were called away to settle an important case.
+Leave everything to me, and when you get back we'll have _mynheer_ so
+drunk he won't know a tax statement from an Edammer cheese."
+
+Muller's face failed to brighten at the hopeful program mapped out by
+his associate. If anything, his agitation increased.
+
+"But he might ask questions to-day, _kapitein_--questions I cannot
+answer."
+
+Van Slyck's lips curled. His thought was: "Good God, what am I going to
+do with this lump of jelly-fish?" But he replied encouragingly:
+
+"No danger of that at all, _mynheer_. There are certain formalities that
+must be gone through first before a new resident takes hold. It would
+not be good form to kick his predecessor out of office without giving
+the latter a chance to close his books--even a pig of a Yankee knows
+that. Accept his credentials if he offers them, but tell him business
+must wait till the morning. Above all, keep your head, say nothing, and
+be as damnably civil as though he were old Van Schouten himself. If we
+can swell his head none of us will have to worry."
+
+"But my accounts, _kapitein_," Muller faltered.
+
+"To the devil with your accounts," Van Slyck exclaimed, losing
+patience. "Go to Barang, fix them up as best you can."
+
+"I can never get them to balance," Muller cried. "Our dealings--the
+rattan we shipped--you know." He looked fearfully around.
+
+"There never was a _controlleur_ yet that didn't line his own pockets,"
+Van Slyck sneered. "But his books never showed it. You are a
+book-keeper, _mynheer_, and you know how to juggle figures. Forget these
+transactions; if you can't, charge the moneys you got to some account.
+There are no vouchers or receipts in Bulungan. A handy man with figures,
+like yourself, ought to be able to make a set of accounts that that
+ferret Sachsen himself could not find a flaw in."
+
+"But that is not the worst," Muller cried despairingly. "There are the
+taxes, the taxes I should have sent to Batavia, the rice that we sold
+instead to Ah Sing."
+
+"Good God! Have you grown a conscience?" Van Slyck snarled. "If you
+have, drown yourself in the bay. Lie, you fool, lie! Tell him the
+weevils ruined the crop, tell him the floods drowned it, tell him a
+tornado swept the fields bare, lay it to the hill Dyaks--anything,
+anything! But keep your nerve, or you'll hang sure."
+
+Muller retreated before the captain's vehemence.
+
+"But the _bruinevels_, _kapitein_?" he faltered. "They may tell him
+something different."
+
+"Wobanguli won't; he's too wise to say anything," Van Slyck asserted
+firmly. "None of the others will dare to, either--all we've got to do is
+to whisper Ah Sing's name to them. But there's little danger of any of
+them except the Rajah seeing him until after the _Prins_ is gone. Once
+she's out of the harbor I don't care what they say--no word of it will
+ever get back to Batavia."
+
+His devilishly handsome smile gleamed sardonically, and he twisted his
+nicely waxed mustache. Muller's hands shook.
+
+"_Kapitein_," he replied in an odd, strained voice, "I am afraid of this
+Peter Gross. I had a dream last night, a horrible dream--I am sure it
+was him I saw. I was in old de Jonge's room in the residency
+building--you know the room--and the stranger of my dream sat in old de
+Jonge's chair.
+
+"He asked me questions, questions of how I came here, and what I have
+done here, and I talked and talked till my mouth was dry as the marsh
+grass before the rains begin to fall. All the while he listened, and his
+eyes seemed to bore through me, as though they said: 'Judas, I know
+what is going on in your heart.'
+
+"At last, when I could say no more, he asked me: '_Mynheer_, how did
+Mynheer de Jonge die?' Then I fell on the ground before him and told him
+all--all. At the last, soldiers came to take me away to hang me, but
+under the very shadow of the gallows a bird swooped down out of the air
+and carried me away, away into the jungle. Then I awoke."
+
+Van Slyck broke into scornful laughter.
+
+"_Mynheer_, you had enough to worry about before you started dreaming,"
+he said bluntly. "If you're going to fill your head with such
+foolishness I'll leave you to your own devices."
+
+"But, _kapitein_, it might be a warning," Muller cried desperately.
+
+"Heaven doesn't send ravens to cheat such rogues as you and I from the
+gallows, _mynheer_," Van Slyck mocked. "We might as well get ready to
+meet our new resident. I see a boat putting off from the ship."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+PETER GROSS'S RECEPTION
+
+
+When Peter Gross stepped ashore at the foot of the slope on which the
+fort and government buildings stood, three thousand pairs of eyes, whose
+owners were securely hidden in the copses and undergrowth for a quarter
+of a mile in both directions along the shore-line, watched his every
+movement. With the lightning celerity with which big news travels word
+had been spread through Bulungan town that the new resident was coming
+ashore, and every inhabitant possessed of sound legs to bear him had
+run, crawled, or scrambled to a favorable patch of undergrowth where he
+could get a first glimpse of the _orang blanda_ chief without being
+observed.
+
+Perfectly aware of this scrutiny, but calmly oblivious to it, Peter
+Gross stepped out of the boat and directed the sailors who rowed it to
+return to their ship. As their oars bit the water he faced the path that
+wound up the hillside and walked along it at a dignified and easy pace.
+His sharp ears caught the incessant rustle of leaves, a rustle not made
+by the breeze, and the soft grinding of bits of coral under the pressure
+of naked feet.
+
+Once he surprised a dusky face in the bush, but his glance roved to the
+next object in his line of vision in placid unconcern. As he mounted the
+rise he made for the _controlleur's_ home, strolling along as calmly as
+though he were on a Batavia lane.
+
+"_Duivel noch toe!_" Muller exclaimed as the boat returned to the ship.
+"He is coming here alone." His voice had an incredulous ring as though
+he half doubted the evidence of his own senses.
+
+Van Slyck's eyes danced with satisfaction, and his saturnine smile was
+almost Mephistophelian.
+
+"By Nassau, I was right, after all, _mynheer_," he exclaimed. "He's an
+ass of a Yankee that Van Schouten is having some sport with in sending
+him here."
+
+"There may be something behind this, _kapitein_," Muller cautioned
+apprehensively, but Van Slyck cut him short.
+
+"Behind this, _mynheer_? The fool does not even know how to maintain the
+dignity due his office. Would he land this way, like a pedler with his
+pack, if he did? Oh, we are going to have some rare sport--"
+
+Van Slyck's merriment broke loose in a guffaw.
+
+"You-you will not do anything violent, _kapitein_?" Muller asked
+apprehensively.
+
+"Violent?" Van Slyck exclaimed. "I wouldn't hurt him for a thousand
+guilders, _mynheer_. He's going to be more fun than even you."
+
+The frank sneer that accompanied the remark made the captain's meaning
+sufficiently clear to penetrate even so sluggish a mind as the
+_controlleur's_. He reddened, and an angry retort struggled to his
+lips, but he checked it before it framed itself into coherent language.
+He was too dependent on Van Slyck, he realized, to risk offending the
+latter now, but for the first time in their acquaintanceship his
+negative dislike of his more brilliant associate deepened to a positive
+aversion.
+
+"What are we going to do, _kapitein_?" he asked quietly.
+
+"Welcome him, _mynheer_!" Again the sardonic smile. "Treat him to some
+of your fine cigars and a bottle of your best Hollands. Draw him out,
+make him empty his belly to us. When we have sucked him dry and drenched
+him with liquor we will pack him back to the _Prins_ to tell Kapitein
+Enckel what fine fellows we are. To-morrow we'll receive him with all
+ceremony--I'll instruct him this afternoon how a resident is installed
+in his new post and how he must conduct himself.
+
+"Enckel will leave here without a suspicion, Mynheer Gross will be ready
+to trust even his purse to us if we say the word, and we will have
+everything our own way as before. But s-s-st! Here he comes!" He lifted
+a restraining hand. "Lord, what a shoulder of beef! Silence, now, and
+best your manners, _mynheer_. Leave the talking to me."
+
+Peter Gross walked along the kenari-tree shaded lane between the
+evergreen hedges clipped with characteristic Dutch primness to a perfect
+plane. Behind him formed a growing column of natives whose curiosity had
+gotten the better of their diffidence.
+
+The resident's keen eyes instantly ferreted out Van Slyck and Muller in
+the shadows of the veranda, but he gave no sign of recognition. Mounting
+the steps of the porch, he stood for a moment in dignified expectancy,
+his calm, gray eyes taking the measure of each of its occupants.
+
+An apprehensive shiver ran down Muller's spine as he met Peter Gross's
+glance--those gray eyes were so like the silent, inscrutable eyes of the
+stranger in de Jonge's chair whom he saw in his dream. It was Van Slyck
+who spoke first.
+
+"You were looking for some one, _mynheer_?" he asked.
+
+"For Mynheer Muller, the _controlleur_ and acting resident. I think I
+have found him."
+
+The mildness with which these words were spoken restored the captain's
+aplomb, momentarily shaken by Peter Gross's calm, disconcerting stare.
+
+"You have a message for us?"
+
+"I have," Peter Gross replied.
+
+"Ah, from Kapitein Enckel, I suppose," Van Slyck remarked urbanely.
+"Your name is--" He paused significantly.
+
+"It is from his excellency, the Jonkheer Van Schouten," Peter Gross
+corrected quietly.
+
+Peter Gross's tolerance of this interrogation convinced Van Slyck that
+he had to do with an inferior intelligence suddenly elevated to an
+important position and very much at sea in it.
+
+"And your message, I understand, is for Mynheer Muller, the
+_controlleur_?" the captain inquired loftily with a pert uptilt of his
+chin.
+
+"For Mynheer Muller, the _controlleur_," Peter Gross acknowledged
+gravely.
+
+"Ah, yes. This is Mynheer Muller." He indicated the _controlleur_ with a
+flourish. "But you have not yet told us your name."
+
+"I am Peter Gross."
+
+"Ah, yes, Pieter Gross. Pieter Gross." The captain repeated the name
+with evident relish. "Pieter Gross. Mynheer Pieter Gross."
+
+There was a subtle emphasis on the _mynheer_--a half-doubtful use of the
+word, as though he questioned Peter Gross's right to a gentleman's
+designation. It was designed to test the sailor.
+
+Peter Gross's face did not change a muscle. Turning to the
+_controlleur_, he asked in a voice of unruffled calm: "May I speak to
+you privately, _mynheer_?"
+
+Muller glanced apprehensively at Van Slyck. The fears inspired by his
+dreams made him more susceptible to ulterior impressions than the
+captain, whose naturally more acute sensibilities were blunted by the
+preconceived conviction that he had an ignorant Yankee to deal with. Van
+Slyck smiled cynically and observed:
+
+"Am I in the way, Mynheer Gross?" Again the ironic accent to the
+_mynheer_. He rose to go, but Muller stayed him with the cry:
+
+"_Neen, neen, kapitein._ Whatever comes from the governor concerns you,
+too. Stay with us, and we will see what his excellency has to say."
+
+None knew the importance of first impressions better than the captain.
+If the new resident could be thwarted in his purpose of seeing Muller
+alone that achievement would exercise its influence on all their future
+relations, Van Slyck perceived.
+
+Assuming an expression of indifference, he sank indolently into an easy
+chair. When he looked up he found the gray eyes of Peter Gross fixed
+full upon him.
+
+"Perhaps I should introduce myself further, captain," Peter Gross said.
+"I am Mynheer Gross, of Batavia, your new resident by virtue of his
+excellency the Jonkheer Van Schouten's appointment."
+
+Van Slyck's faint, cynical smile deepened a trifle.
+
+"Ah, _mynheer_ has been appointed resident," he remarked
+non-committally.
+
+Peter Gross's face hardened sternly.
+
+"It is not the custom in Batavia, captain, for officers of the garrison
+to be seated while their superiors stand."
+
+For a moment the astonished captain lost his usual assurance. In that
+moment he unwittingly scrambled to his feet in response to the
+commanding look of the gray eyes that stared at him so steadily. The
+instant his brain cleared he regretted the action, but another lightning
+thought saved him from the folly of defying the resident by reseating
+himself in the chair he had vacated. Furious at Peter Gross, furious at
+himself, he struggled futilely for an effective reply and failed to find
+it. In the end he took refuge in a sullen silence.
+
+Peter Gross turned again to Muller.
+
+"Here are my credentials, _mynheer_, and a letter from his excellency,
+the governor-general," he announced simply.
+
+With the words he placed in Muller's hands two envelopes plentifully
+decorated with sealing-wax stamped with the great seal of the
+Netherlands. The _controlleur_ took them with trembling fingers. Peter
+Gross calmly appropriated a chair. As he seated himself he remarked:
+
+"Gentlemen, you may sit."
+
+Van Slyck ignored the permission and strolled to one end of the veranda.
+He was thinking deeply, and all the while stole covert looks at Peter
+Gross. Had he been mistaken, after all, in his estimate of the man? Was
+this apparent guilelessness and simplicity a mask? Were Koyala and
+Muller right? Or was the resident's sudden assumption of dignity a petty
+vanity finding vent in the display of newly acquired powers?
+
+He stole another look. That face, it was so frank and ingenuous, so free
+from cunning and deceit, and so youthful. Its very boyishness persuaded
+Van Slyck. Vanity was the inspiration for the resident's sudden
+assertion of the prerogatives of his office, he decided, the petty
+vanity of a boor eager to demonstrate authority. Confidence restored, he
+became keenly alert for a chance to humble this froward Yankee.
+
+It was some time before Muller finished reading the documents. He was
+breathing heavily the while, for he felt that he was reading his own
+death-warrant. There was no doubting their authenticity, for they were
+stamped with the twin lions of the house of Orange and the motto, "_Je
+Maintiendrai_." The signature at the bottom of each was the familiar
+scrawl of Java's gamecock governor.
+
+Muller stared at them blankly for a long time, as though he half hoped
+to find some mitigation of the blow that swept his vast administrative
+powers as acting resident from him to the magistracy of a district.
+Dropping them on his lap at last with a weary sigh, he remarked:
+
+"Welcome, Mynheer Gross, to Bulungan. I wish I could say more, but I
+cannot. The most I can say is that I am happy his excellency has at last
+yielded to my petition and has relieved me of a portion of my duties. It
+is a hard, hard residency to govern, _mynheer_."
+
+"A splendid start," Van Slyck muttered to himself under his breath.
+
+"So I have been informed, _mynheer_," Peter Gross replied gravely.
+"Pardon me a moment."
+
+He turned toward Van Slyck: "Captain, I have a letter for you also from
+his excellency. It will inform you of my appointment."
+
+"It would be better form, perhaps, _mynheer_, for me to receive his
+excellency's commands at Fort Wilhelmina," Van Slyck replied suavely,
+delighted at being able to turn the tables.
+
+"Very true, very true, _kapitein_, if you insist," Peter Gross agreed
+quietly. "I hope to visit you at the fort within the hour. In the mean
+time you will excuse Mynheer Muller and me."
+
+For the second time a cold chill of doubt seized Van Slyck. Was it
+possible that he had misjudged his man? If he had, it was doubly
+dangerous to leave Muller alone with him. He resolved to force the
+issue.
+
+"A thousand pardons, _mynheer_," he apologized smilingly. "Mynheer
+Muller just now requested me to remain."
+
+A swift change came into the face of Peter Gross. His chin shot forward;
+in place of the frank simplicity on which Van Slyck had based his
+estimate was a look of authority.
+
+"Mynheer Muller cancels that invitation at my request," he announced
+sternly.
+
+Van Slyck glanced in quick appeal at his associate, but Muller's eyes
+were already lowering under Peter Gross's commanding glance. Unable to
+find a straw of excuse for holding the captain, the _controlleur_
+stammered:
+
+"Certainly, _mynheer_. I will see you later, _kapitein_."
+
+Even then Van Slyck lingered, afraid now to leave Muller alone. But the
+cold, gray eyes of Peter Gross followed him; they expressed a decision
+from which there was no appeal. Furious at Muller, furious at his own
+impotence, the captain walked slowly across the veranda. Half-way down
+the steps he turned with a glare of defiance, but thought better of it.
+Raging inwardly, and a prey to the blackest passions, he strode toward
+the stockade. The unhappy sentinel at the gate, a Javanese colonial, was
+dozing against the brass cannon.
+
+"Devil take you, is this the way you keep guard?" Van Slyck roared and
+leaped at the man. His sword flashed from its scabbard and he brought
+the flat of the blade on the unhappy wretch's head. The Javanese dropped
+like a log.
+
+"Bring that carrion to the guard-house and put some one on the gate that
+can keep his eyes open," Van Slyck shouted to young Lieutenant Banning,
+officer of the day. White to the lips, Banning saluted, and executed the
+orders.
+
+In barracks that night the soldiers whispered fearfully to each other
+that a _budjang brani_ (evil spirit) had seized their captain again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+A FEVER ANTIDOTE
+
+
+"You have found Bulungan a difficult province to govern, _mynheer_?"
+Peter Gross asked.
+
+The words were spoken in a mild, ingratiating manner. Peter Gross's
+voice had the friendly quality that so endeared him to all who made his
+acquaintance, and the harshness that had distinguished his curt
+dismissal of the supercilious Van Slyck was wholly absent.
+
+Muller wiped away the drops of perspiration that had gathered on his
+forehead. A prey to conscience, Van Slyck's dismissal had seemed to him
+the beginning of the end.
+
+"_Ach, mynheer_," he faltered, "it has been a heavy task. Too much for
+one man, altogether too much. Since Mynheer de Jonge left here two years
+ago I have been both resident and _controlleur_. I have worked night and
+day, and the heavy work, and the worry, have made me almost bald."
+
+That a connection existed between baldness and overwork was a new theory
+to Peter Gross and rather amusing, since he knew the circumstances. But
+not the faintest flicker of a smile showed on his face.
+
+"You have found it difficult, then, I presume, to keep up with all your
+work?" he suggested.
+
+Muller instantly grasped at the straw. "Not only difficult, _mynheer_,
+but wholly impossible," he vehemently affirmed. "My reports are far
+behind. I suppose his excellency told you that?"
+
+He scanned Peter Gross's face anxiously. The latter's serenity remained
+undisturbed.
+
+"His excellency told me very little," he replied. "He suggested that I
+consult with you and Captain Van Slyck to get your ideas on what is
+needed for bettering conditions here. I trust I will have your
+cooperation, _mynheer_?"
+
+Muller breathed a silent sigh of relief. "That you will, _mynheer_," he
+assured fervently. "I shall be glad to help you all I can. And so will
+Kapitein Van Slyck, I am sure of that. You will find him a good man--a
+little proud, perhaps, and headstrong, like all these soldiers, but an
+experienced officer." Muller nodded sagely.
+
+"I am glad to hear that," Peter Gross replied. "The work is a little new
+to me--I presume you know that?"
+
+"So I heard, _mynheer_. This is your first post as resident?"
+
+Peter Gross's eyelids quivered a trifle. Muller's admission revealed
+that he had had correspondence with Ah Sing, for from no other source
+could the news have leaked out.
+
+"This is my first post," he acknowledged.
+
+"Possibly you have served as _controlleur_?" Muller suggested.
+
+"I am a sailor," Peter Gross replied. "This is my first state
+appointment."
+
+"Then my experience may be of value to you, _mynheer_," Muller declared
+happily. "You understand accounts, of course?"
+
+"In a measure. But I am more a sailor than a supercargo, _mynheer_."
+
+"To be sure, to be sure," Muller acquiesced heartily. "A sailor to the
+sea and to fighting in the bush, and a penman to his books. Leave the
+accounts to me; I will take care of them for you, _mynheer_. You will
+have plenty to do, keeping the tribes in order. It was more than I could
+do. These Dyaks and Malays are good fighters."
+
+"So I have been told," Peter Gross assented dryly.
+
+"They told you correctly, _mynheer_. But they will get a stern master
+now--we have heard of your work at Lombock, _mynheer_."
+
+The broad compliment was accompanied by an even broader smile. Muller
+was very much pleased with himself, and thought he was handling a
+delicate situation in a manner that Van Slyck himself could not have
+improved upon.
+
+Peter Gross's gravity did not relax. "How are the natives? Do you have
+much difficulty?" he inquired.
+
+Muller assumed a wobegone expression. "_Ach, mynheer_," he exclaimed
+dolorously, "those hill Dyaks are devils. It is one raid after another;
+they will not let us alone. The rice-fields are swept bare. What the
+Dyaks do not get, the floods and typhoons get, and the weevils eat the
+stubble. We have not had a crop in two years. The rice we gathered for
+taxes from those villages where there was a little blessing on the
+harvest we had to distribute among the villages where the crop failed to
+keep our people from starving. That is why we could not ship to Batavia.
+I wish his excellency would come here himself and see how things are; he
+would not be so critical about the taxes that are not paid."
+
+"Do the coast Dyaks ever make trouble?" Peter Gross asked.
+
+Muller glanced at him shrewdly.
+
+"It is the hill Dyaks who begin it, _mynheer_. Sometimes my coast Dyaks
+lose their heads when their crops are burned and their wives and
+children are stolen, but that is not often. We can control them better
+than we can the hill people, for they are nearer us. Of course a man
+runs amuck occasionally, but that you find everywhere."
+
+"I hear there is a half-white woman who wields a great influence over
+them," Peter Gross remarked. "Who is she?"
+
+"You mean Koyala, _mynheer_. A wonderful woman with a great influence
+over her people; they would follow her to death. That was a wise act,
+_mynheer_, to persuade his excellency to cancel the offer he made for
+her person. Bulungan will not forget it. You could not have done
+anything that pleases the people more."
+
+"She is very beautiful, I have heard," Peter Gross remarked pensively.
+
+Muller glanced at him sharply, and a quick spasm of jealousy contracted
+his features. The resident might like a pretty face, too, was his
+instant thought; it was an angle he had not bargained for. This Mynheer
+Gross was strong and handsome, young--altogether a dangerous rival. His
+mellow good nature vanished.
+
+"That depends on what you call beauty," he said surlily. "She is a
+witch-woman, and half Dyak."
+
+Peter Gross looked up in pretended surprise.
+
+"Well, _mynheer_, I am astonished. They told me in Batavia--" He checked
+himself abruptly.
+
+"What did they tell you in Batavia?" Muller demanded eagerly.
+
+Peter Gross shook his head. "I should not have spoken, _mynheer_. It was
+only idle gossip."
+
+"Tell me, _mynheer_," Muller pleaded. "_Lieve hemel_, this is the first
+time in months that some one has told me that Batavia still remembers
+Muller of Bulungan."
+
+"It was only idle rumor," Peter Gross deprecated. "I was told you were
+going to marry--naturally I believed--but of course as you say it's
+impossible--"
+
+"I to marry?" Muller exclaimed. "Who? Koyala?"
+
+Peter Gross's silence was all the confirmation the _controlleur_ needed.
+A gratified smile spread over his face; he was satisfied now that the
+resident had no intention of being his rival.
+
+"They say that in Batavia?" he asked. "Well, between you and me,
+_mynheer_, I would have to look far for a fairer bride."
+
+"Let me congratulate you," Peter Gross began, but Muller stayed him.
+
+"No, not yet, _mynheer_. What I have said is for your ears alone.
+Remember, you know nothing."
+
+"Your confidence is safe with me," Peter Gross assured him.
+
+Muller suddenly recollected his duties as host.
+
+"Ho, _mynheer_, you must have some Hollands with me," he cried
+hospitably. "A toast to our good fellowship." He clapped his hands and
+Cho Seng appeared in the doorway.
+
+"A glass of lemonade or iced tea, if you please," Peter Gross stated.
+
+"You are a teetotaler?" Muller cried in dismay.
+
+"As resident of Bulungan, yes, _mynheer_. A servant of the state cannot
+be too careful."
+
+Muller laughed. "Lemonade and _jenever_, Cho Seng," he directed. "Well,
+_mynheer_, I'll wager you are the only resident in all the colonies that
+will not take his glass of Hollands. If it were not for _jenever_ many
+of us could not live in this inferno. Sometimes it is well to be able to
+forget for a short time."
+
+"If one has a burdened conscience," Peter Gross conditioned quietly.
+
+Muller started. He intuitively felt the words were not idle observation,
+and he glanced at Peter Gross doubtfully. The resident was looking over
+the broad expanse of sea, and presently remarked:
+
+"You have a splendid view here, _mynheer_. I hope the outlook from my
+house is half so good."
+
+Muller roused himself. "That is so, _mynheer_," he said. "I had almost
+forgotten; we will have to put your house in order at once. It has not
+been occupied for two years, and will need a thorough cleaning.
+Meanwhile you must be my guest."
+
+"I thank you, _mynheer_," Peter Gross replied quietly.
+
+"You will have an establishment, _mynheer_?" Muller asked curiously.
+"Have you brought servants? If not, I shall be glad to loan you Cho
+Seng."
+
+"Thank you, I am well provided," Peter Gross assured.
+
+Cho Seng padded out on the porch and served them. Being a well-trained
+servant, he scarcely glanced at his employer's guest, but Peter Gross
+favored him with a thoughtful stare.
+
+"Your servant has been with you a long time, _mynheer_?" he inquired
+carelessly.
+
+"A year, _mynheer_. I got him from Batavia. He was recommended by--a
+friend." The pause was perceptible.
+
+"His face seems familiar," Peter Gross remarked in an offhand manner.
+"But that's probably imagination. It is hard to tell these Chinese
+apart."
+
+Conscious of having said too much again, Muller made no reply. They
+sipped their drinks in silence, Peter Gross thinking deeply the while
+why Ah Sing should make a former waiter in his _rumah makan_ Muller's
+servant. Presently he said:
+
+"If it is not too much trouble, _mynheer_, could you show me my house?"
+
+"Gladly, _mynheer_," Muller exclaimed, rising with alacrity. "It is only
+a few steps. We will go at once."
+
+For the next half hour Peter Gross and he rambled through the dwelling.
+It was modeled closely after the _controlleur's_ own, with a similar
+green and white facade facing the sea. The atmosphere within was damp
+and musty, vermin scurried at their approach, but Peter Gross saw that
+the building could be made tenable in a few days. At last they came to a
+sequestered room on the north side, facing the hills. An almost level
+expanse of garden lay back of it.
+
+"This was Mynheer de Jonge's own apartment," Muller explained. "Here he
+did most of his work." He sighed heavily. "He was a fine old man. It is
+too bad the good God had to take him away from us."
+
+Peter Gross's lips pressed together tightly.
+
+"Mynheer de Jonge was careless of his health, I hear," he remarked. "One
+cannot be too careful in Bulungan. Therefore, _mynheer_, I must ask you
+to get me a crew of men busy at once erecting two long houses, after
+these plans." He took a drawing from his pocket and showed it to Muller.
+The _controlleur_ blinked at it with a puzzled frown.
+
+"These buildings will ruin the view, _mynheer_," he expostulated. "Such
+long huts--they are big enough for thirty men. What are they for?"
+
+"Protection against the fevers, _mynheer_," Peter Gross said dryly. "The
+fevers that killed Mynheer de Jonge."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That evening, when Peter Gross had returned to the ship, Muller and Van
+Slyck met to compare notes. The captain was still boiling with anger;
+the resident's visit to Fort Wilhelmina had not soothed his ruffled
+temper.
+
+"He told me he brought twenty-five irregulars with him for work in the
+bush," Van Slyck related. "They are a separate command, and won't be
+quartered in the fort. If this Yankee thinks he can meddle in the
+military affairs of the residency he will find he is greatly mistaken."
+
+"Where will they be quartered?" Muller asked.
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Maybe he will place them in the huts he has ordered me to build back of
+the residency," Muller remarked, rubbing his bald pate thoughtfully.
+
+"He told you to build some huts?" Van Slyck asked.
+
+"Yes, some long huts. Big enough for thirty men. He said they were to be
+a protection against the fevers."
+
+"The fevers?" Van Slyck exclaimed in amazement.
+
+"Yes, the fevers that killed Mynheer de Jonge, he said."
+
+Van Slyck's face became livid with passion. "Against the fevers that
+killed de Jonge, eh?" he snarled. "The damned Yankee will find there are
+more than fevers in Bulungan."
+
+He flashed a sharp look at Muller.
+
+"When you see Koyala," he said, "send her to me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+KOYALA'S DEFIANCE
+
+
+From his quarters in the residency building, the same room where his
+predecessor, the obstinate and perverse de Jonge, had lived his brief
+and inglorious career, Peter Gross looked across the rolling expanse to
+the jungle-crested hills of Bulungan.
+
+It was now two weeks since his coming. Many changes had been wrought
+during the fortnight. The residency had been cleared of vermin and made
+habitable. Paddy Rouse had been installed as secretary and general
+factotum. The tangle of cane, creeper growth, and nipa palm that had
+grown in the park of shapely tamarinds since de Jonge's death had been
+cut away. Two long, low buildings had been erected as barracks, and
+Captain Carver had converted the newly created plain into a
+drill-ground.
+
+They were drilling now, the khaki-clad twenty-five that had crossed the
+Java Sea with Peter Gross. Two weeks on shore, supplementing the
+shipboard quizzes on the drill manual, had welded them into an efficient
+command. The smartness and precision with which they executed maneuvers
+compelled a grudging admiration from the stolid Dutch soldiers of Fort
+Wilhelmina who strolled over daily to watch the drills.
+
+"They'll do, they'll do," Peter Gross assured himself with satisfaction.
+
+He stepped back to his desk and took a document from it. It was Muller's
+first report as _controlleur_. Peter Gross ran his eyes down the column
+of figures and frowned. The accounts balanced and were properly drawn
+up. The report seemed to be in great detail. Yet he felt that something
+was wrong. The expenses of administration had been heavy, enormously
+heavy, he noted. Instead of exporting rice Bulungan had been forced to
+import to make good crop losses, the report showed.
+
+"Mynheer Muller is a good accountant," he observed to himself. "But
+there are a few items we will have to inquire into." He laid the report
+aside.
+
+The door opened and Paddy Rouse entered. His bright red hair, scrubby
+nose, and freckled face were in odd contrast to his surroundings, so
+typically Dutch. Mynheer de Jonge had made this retreat a sanctuary, a
+bit of old Holland transplanted bodily without regard to differences of
+latitude and longitude. In the east wall was a blue-tile fireplace. On
+the mantel stood a big tobacco jar of Delftware with the familiar
+windmill pattern. Over it hung a long-stemmed Dutch pipe with its highly
+colored porcelain bowl. The pictures on the wall were Rembrandtesque,
+gentlemen in doublet and hose, with thin, refined, scholarly faces and
+the inevitable Vandyke beard.
+
+"A lady to see you, sir," Paddy Rouse announced with military curtness,
+saluting. The irrepressible Irish broke through in a sly twinkle. "She's
+a beauty, sir."
+
+Peter Gross controlled the start of surprise he felt. He intuitively
+guessed who his visitor was.
+
+"You may show her in," he announced.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And, Paddy--call Captain Carver, please."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+The shock of red hair darted away.
+
+Peter Gross looked out of the window again. The crucial moment, the
+moment he had looked forward to since accepting his appointment, was
+upon him. What should he say to her, this woman of two alien, utterly
+irreconcilable races, this woman so bitterly wronged, this woman with a
+hot shame in her heart that would not die? How should he approach her,
+how should he overcome her blind, unreasoning hatred against the
+dominant white race, how persuade her to trust him, to give her aid for
+the reclamation of Bulungan?
+
+At the same time he wondered why she had come. He had not anticipated
+this meeting so soon. Was there something back of it? As he asked
+himself the question his fingers drummed idly on the desk.
+
+While he was meditating he became suddenly aware of another presence in
+the room. Turning, he found himself looking into the eyes of a
+woman--the woman of his thoughts. She stood beside him, silent,
+possessed. There was a dagger in the snakeskin girdle she wore about
+her waist--a single thrust and she could have killed him. He looked at
+her steadily. Her glance was equally steady. He rose slowly.
+
+"You are the Juffrouw Koyala," he announced simply. "Good morning,
+_juffrouw_." He bowed.
+
+There was an instant's hesitation--or was it only his imagination, Peter
+Gross asked himself--then her form relaxed a trifle. So slight was the
+movement that he would not have been sure had not every muscle of her
+perfect body yielded to it with a supple, rhythmic grace.
+
+"Won't you be seated?" he remarked conventionally, and placed a chair
+for her. Not until then did she speak.
+
+"It is not necessary, _mynheer_. I have only a few words to say."
+
+The cold austerity of her voice chilled Peter Gross. Yet her tones were
+marvelously sweet--like silver bells, he thought. He bowed and waited
+expectantly. In a moment's interlude he took stock of her.
+
+She was dressed in the native fashion, sarong and kabaya, both of purest
+white. The kabaya reached to midway between the knees and ankles. Her
+limbs were bare, except for doe-skin sandals. The girdle about her waist
+was made from the skins of spotted pit vipers. The handle of the dagger
+it held was studded with gems, rubies, turquoises, and emeralds. A huge
+ruby, mounted on a pin, caught the kabaya above her breasts; outside of
+this she wore no jewelry. Her lustrous black hair hung loosely over her
+shoulders. Altogether a creature of the jungle, she looked at him with a
+glance in which defiance was but thinly concealed.
+
+"What did you wish to see me about?" Peter Gross asked when he saw that
+she was awaiting his permission to speak.
+
+Something like a spark shot from the glowing coals of her eyes. The
+tragic intensity of those eyes stirred anew the feeling of pity in the
+resident's heart.
+
+"I am told, _mynheer_, that the governor withdrew his offer for my
+person at your request," she said coldly.
+
+The statement was a question, Peter Gross felt, though put in the form
+of a declaration. He scrutinized her face sharply, striving to divine
+her object.
+
+"That is true, _juffrouw_," he acknowledged.
+
+"Why did you do this, _mynheer_?"
+
+Peter Gross did not answer at once. The direct question astonished him.
+
+"Why do you ask, _juffrouw_?" he parried.
+
+Her finely chiseled head tilted back. Very royal she looked, very
+queenly, a Diana of the tropic jungle.
+
+"Because Koyala Bintang Burung asks no favors from you, Mynheer Gross.
+Nor from any white man."
+
+It was a declaration of war. Peter Gross realized it, and his face
+saddened. He had expected opposition but not open defiance. He wondered
+what lay back of it. The Dyak blood in her, always treacherous, never
+acting without a purpose, was not frank without reason, he assured
+himself.
+
+"I had no intention of doing you a favor, _juffrouw_," he announced
+quietly.
+
+"What was your object, _mynheer_?"
+
+The words were hardly out of her mouth before she regretted them. The
+quick flash of her teeth as she bit her lips revealed the slip. Peter
+Gross instantly divined the reason--her hostility was so implacable that
+she would not even parley with him.
+
+"To do you justice, _juffrouw_," he replied.
+
+The words were like oil on flame. Her whole figure stiffened rigidly.
+The smoldering light in her eyes flashed into fire. The dusk in her face
+deepened to night. In a stifled voice, bitter with scorn, she cried:
+
+"I want none of your justice, _mynheer_."
+
+"No, I suppose not," Peter Gross assented heavily. His head sagged and
+he stared moodily into the fireplace. Koyala looked at him questioningly
+for a moment, then turned swiftly and glided toward the door. A word
+from Peter Gross interrupted her.
+
+"_Juffrouw!_"
+
+She turned slowly. The cold disdain her face expressed was magnificent.
+
+"What shall I do?" he entreated. His mild, gray eyes were fixed on her
+flaming orbs pleadingly. Her lips curled in scornful contempt.
+
+"That is for you to decide, _mynheer_," she replied.
+
+"Then I cross from the slate all that has been charged against you,
+_juffrouw_. You are free to come and go as you wish."
+
+A flash of anger crossed Koyala's face.
+
+"Your pardon is neither asked nor desired, _mynheer_," she retorted.
+
+"I must do my duty as I see it," Peter Gross replied. "All that I ask of
+you, _juffrouw_, is that you do not use your influence with the natives
+to hinder or oppose the plans I have for their betterment. May I have
+your pledge for that?"
+
+"I make no promises and give no pledges, _mynheer_," Koyala announced
+coldly.
+
+"I beg your pardon--I should not have asked it of you. All I ask is a
+chance to work out my plans without hindrance from those whose welfare I
+am seeking."
+
+Koyala's lips curled derisively. "You can promote our welfare best by
+going back to Java, _mynheer_," she retorted.
+
+Peter Gross looked at her sadly.
+
+"_Juffrouw_," he said, "you are speaking words that you do not know the
+meaning of. Leave Bulungan? What would happen then? The Chinese would
+come down on you from the north, the Bugis from the east, and the Bajaus
+from every corner of the sea. Your coasts would be harried, your people
+would be driven out of their towns to the jungles, trade would cease,
+the rice harvests would fail, starvation would come upon you. Your
+children would be torn from you to be sold in the slave-market. Your
+women would be stolen. You are a woman, _juffrouw_, a woman of education
+and understanding; you know what the white man saves you from."
+
+"And what have you whites given us in return for your protection?" she
+cried fiercely. "Your law, which is the right of a white man to cheat
+and rob the ignorant Dyak under the name of trade. Your garrisons in our
+city, which mean taking away our weapons so that our young men become
+soft in muscle and short in breath and can no longer make war like their
+fathers did. Your religion, which you force on us with a sword and do
+not believe yourself. Your morals, which have corrupted the former
+sanctity of our homes and have wrought an infamy unspeakable. Gin, to
+make our men stagger like fools; opium, to debauch us all! These are the
+white man's gifts to the Dyaks of Borneo. I would rather see my people
+free, with only their bows and arrows and sumpitans, fighting a losing
+fight in their jungles against the Malays and the Chinese slave-hunters,
+than be ruined by arrach and gin and opium like they are now."
+
+She was writhing in her passion. Her bosom rose and fell tumultuously,
+and her fingers opened and closed like the claws of an animal. In this
+mood she was a veritable tigress, Peter Gross thought.
+
+"All that you have said is the truth," he admitted. He looked very
+weary, his shoulders were bent, and he stared gloomily into the hearth.
+Koyala stared at him with a fierce intensity, half doubtful whether he
+was mocking her. But his dejection was too patent to be pretense.
+
+"If you believe that, why are you here?" she demanded.
+
+"Because I believe that Bulungan needs me to correct these evils,
+_juffrouw_," he replied gently.
+
+Koyala laughed shrilly, contemptuously. Peter Gross's form straightened
+and the thin, firm lines of his lips tightened. He lifted a restraining
+hand.
+
+"May I speak for a few moments, _juffrouw_?" he asked. "I want to tell
+you what I am planning to do for Bulungan. I shall put an end to the gin
+and opium trade. I shall drive the slave-hunters and the pirates from
+these seas, and the head-hunters from their _babas_ (jungles). I shall
+make Bulungan so peaceful that the rice-grower can plough, and sow, and
+harvest with never a backward look to see if an enemy is near him. I
+shall take the young men of Bulungan and train them in the art of war,
+that they may learn how to keep peace within their borders and the enemy
+without. I shall readjust the taxes so that the rich will pay their just
+share as well as the poor. I shall bring in honest tax-collectors who
+will account for the last grain of rice they receive. Before I shall
+finish my work the _Gustis_ (Princes) will break their krisses and the
+bushmen their sumpitans; hill Dyak and coast Dyak will sit under the
+same tapang tree and take sirih and betel from the same box, and the
+Kapala Kampong shall say to the people of his village--go to the groves
+and harvest the cocoanut, a tenth for me and a tenth for the state, and
+the balance for you and your children."
+
+Koyala looked at him searchingly. His tremendous earnestness seemed to
+impress her.
+
+"You have taken a big task upon yourself, _mynheer_," she observed.
+
+"I will do all this, _juffrouw_, if you will help me," Peter Gross
+affirmed solemnly.
+
+Scornful defiance leaped again into Koyala's eyes and she drew back
+proudly.
+
+"I, _mynheer_? I am a Dyak of Bulungan," she said.
+
+"You are half a daughter of my people," Peter Gross corrected. "You have
+had the training of a white woman. Whether you are friend or foe, you
+shall always be a white woman to me, _juffrouw_."
+
+A film came across Koyala's eyes. She started to reply, checked herself,
+and then spoke, lashing the words out between set teeth.
+
+"Promise upon promise, lie upon lie, that has been the way with you
+whites. I hate you all, I stand by my people."
+
+Swift as the bird whose name she bore, she flashed through the door.
+Peter Gross took a half-step forward to restrain her, stopped, and
+walked slowly back to his chair.
+
+"She will come back," he murmured to himself; "she will come back. I
+have sown the seed, and it has sunk in fertile ground."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the banyan grove Koyala, breathing rapidly because of her swift
+flight, came upon Kapitein Van Slyck. The captain rose eagerly as she
+darted through the cane.
+
+"What did he say?" he asked. "Did he try to make love to you?"
+
+Koyala turned on him furiously. "You are a fool, we are all fools!" she
+exclaimed. "He is more than a match for all of us. I will see you later,
+when I can think; not now." She left the clearing.
+
+Van Slyck stalked moodily back to the fort. At the edge of the grove he
+slashed viciously at a pale anemone.
+
+"Damn these women, you never can trust them," he snarled.
+
+When the only sounds audible in the clearing were the chirping of the
+crickets and the fluting of the birds, a thin, yellow face with watery
+eyes peered cautiously through the cane. Seeing the coast clear, Cho
+Seng padded decorously homeward to the _controlleur's_ house, stepping
+carefully in the center of the path where no snakes could lie
+concealed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE COUNCIL
+
+
+The council of the chiefs was assembling. From every part of Bulungan
+residency they came, the Rajahs and the Gustis, the Datu Bandars or
+governors of the Malay villages, and the Orang Kayas and Kapala
+Kampongs, the Dyak village heads. Their coming was in answer to the call
+of Peter Gross, resident, for messengers had been sent to every part of
+the province to announce that a great _bitchara_ (talk) was to be held
+in Bulungan town.
+
+They came in various ways. The Malay Datu Bandars of the coast towns,
+where the Malays were largely in the ascendent, voyaged in royal sailing
+proas, some of which were covered with canopies of silk. Each had twenty
+men or more, armed to the teeth, in his cortege. The inland Rajahs
+traveled in even greater state. Relays of slaves carried them in sedan
+chairs, and fifty gleaming krisses marched before and fifty after. The
+humbler Orang Kayas and Kapala Kampongs came on foot, with not more than
+ten attendants in their trains, for a village head, regardless of the
+number of buffaloes in his herd, must not aspire to the same state as a
+Rajah, or even a Gusti. The Rajah Wobanguli received each arrival with
+a stately dignity befitting the ruler of the largest town in the
+residency, and assigned him and his people the necessary number of
+houses to shelter them.
+
+But these were not the only strangers in Bulungan. From all the country
+round, and from every village along the coast, Dyaks, Malays, Chinese,
+and Bugis, and the Bajau sea-wanderers, streamed into the town. The
+usually commodious market-place seemed to shrink and dwindle as the
+crowd of traders expanded, and the raucous cries of the venders rang
+about the street to a late hour at night.
+
+In every second house a cock-fight was in progress. Sweating, steaming
+bodies crushed each other in the narrow streets and threatened ruin to
+the thatched houses. Malays scowled at Dyaks, and Dyaks glared
+vindictively at Malays. Shrewd, bland Chinese intermingled with the
+crowd and raked in the silver and copper coins that seemed to flow
+toward them by a magnetic attraction. Fierce, piratical Bugis cast
+amorous glances at the Dyak belles who, although they shrank timidly
+into their fathers' huts, were not altogether displeased at having their
+charms noticed.
+
+There was hardly a moment without its bickering and fierce words, and
+there were frequent brawls when women fled shrieking, for hill Dyak and
+coast Dyak and Malay and Bugi could not meet at such close quarters
+without the feuds of untold generations breaking out.
+
+Foremost in the minds and on the lips of every individual in that
+reeking press of humanity was the question: "What will the _orang
+blanda_ (white man) want?" Speculation ran riot, rumor winged upon
+rumor, and no tale was too fantastical to lack ready repetition and
+credulous listeners. _Mynheer_ would exact heavy penalties for every act
+of piracy and killing traced back to Bulungan, so the stories ran;
+_mynheer_ would confiscate all the next rice crop; _mynheer_ would
+establish great plantations and every village would be required to
+furnish its quota of forced labor; _mynheer_ would demand the three
+handsomest youths from each village as hostages for future good
+behavior. Thus long before the council assembled, the tide was setting
+against Peter Gross.
+
+Bulungan was ripe and ready for revolt. It chafed under the fetters of a
+white man's administration, lightly as those fetters sat. Wildest of
+Borneo's residencies, it was the last refuge of the adventurous spirits
+of the Malay archipelago who found life in the established provinces of
+Java, Sumatra, and Celebes all too tame.
+
+They had tasted freedom for two years under Muller's innocuous
+administration and did not intend to permit the old order to be changed.
+Diverse as their opinions on other matters might be, bitter as their
+feuds might be, hill Dyak and coast Dyak, Malay, Chinese, Bugi, and
+Bajau were united on this point. So for the first time in Bulungan's
+history a feeling of unanimity pervaded a conclave of such mongrel
+elements as were now gathered in old "Rotterdam" town. This feeling was
+magnified by a report--originating, no one knew where, and spreading
+like wildfire--that the great Datu, the chief of all the pirates of the
+island seas, the mysterious and silent head of the great confederation,
+was in Bulungan and would advise the chiefs how to answer their new
+white governor.
+
+Peter Gross was not wholly ignorant of public sentiment in the town. One
+of Captain Carver's first acts on coming to Bulungan was to establish
+the nucleus of a secret service to keep him informed on public sentiment
+among the natives. A Dyak lad named Inchi, whom Carver had first hired
+to help with the coarsest camp work, and who had formed an immediate
+attachment for his soldierly white _baas_, was the first recruit in this
+service and brought in daily reports.
+
+"Inchi tells me that the chiefs have decided they will pay no more tax
+to the government," Carver announced to Peter Gross on the morning of
+the council. The resident and he were on the drill-ground where they
+could talk undisturbed. Peter Gross's lips tightened.
+
+"I expected opposition," he replied non-committally.
+
+"Too bad we haven't the _Prins Lodewyk_ here," Carver remarked. "A few
+shells around their ears might bring them to their senses."
+
+"We don't need such an extreme measure yet," Peter Gross deprecated
+gently.
+
+"I hardly know whether it's safe for us to venture into the town,"
+Carver observed. "Couldn't you arrange to have the meeting here, away
+from all that mob? There must be thirty thousand people down below."
+
+"I would rather meet them on their own ground."
+
+"It's a big risk. If there should be an attack, we couldn't hold them."
+
+"Thirty thousand against twenty-five would be rather long odds," Peter
+Gross assented, smiling.
+
+"You're going to use the fort garrison, too, aren't you?" Carver asked
+quickly.
+
+"I shall take just two people with me," Peter Gross announced.
+
+"My God, Mr. Gross! You'll never get back!" Carver's face was tense with
+anxiety.
+
+"Three people will be just as effective as twenty-six, captain," Peter
+Gross declared mildly. "The victory we must gain to-day is a moral
+victory--we must show the natives that we are not afraid."
+
+"But they're bound to break loose. A show of military force would
+restrain them--"
+
+"I think it would be more a provocation than a restraint, captain. They
+would see our helplessness. If I go alone they will reason that we are
+stronger than they think we are. Our confidence will beget uncertainty
+among them."
+
+Carver had long since learned the futility of trying to dissuade his
+chief from a course once adopted. He merely remarked:
+
+"Of course I'll go?"
+
+"I'm sorry, captain--" Peter Gross's face expressed sincere regret.
+"Nothing would please me more than to have you with me, but I can't
+spare you here."
+
+Carver realized that himself. He swallowed his disappointment.
+
+"Whom were you planning on taking?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"Inchi--"
+
+Carver nodded approval.
+
+--"And Paddy Rouse."
+
+"Paddy?" the captain exclaimed. "Of what use--I beg your pardon, Mr.
+Gross."
+
+Peter Gross smiled. "It does seem a peculiar mission to take that
+youngster on," he said. "But Paddy's going to be rarely useful to me
+to-day, useful in a way every man couldn't be. These natives have a
+superstitious reverence for red hair."
+
+An understanding smile broke upon Carver's face.
+
+"Of course. A mighty good idea. Bluff and superstition are two
+almighty-powerful weapons against savages."
+
+"I also hope that we shall have another ally there," Peter Gross said.
+
+"Who is that?"
+
+"The Juffrouw Koyala."
+
+Carver frowned. "Mr. Gross," he said, "I don't trust that woman. She's
+Dyak, and that's the most treacherous breed that was ever spawned. We've
+got to look out for her. She's an actress, and mighty clever in playing
+her little part, but she can't hide the hate in her heart. She'll keep
+us on the string and pretend she's won over, but the first chance she
+gets to strike, she'll do it. I've met that kind of woman in the
+Philippines."
+
+"I think you are wholly mistaken," Peter Gross replied decisively.
+
+Carver glanced at him quickly, searchingly. "She's a damn pretty woman,"
+he remarked musingly, and shot another quick glance at the resident.
+
+"That has nothing to do with the matter," Peter Gross replied sternly.
+
+Abruptly dropping the topic, Carver asked:
+
+"At what hour does the council meet?"
+
+"Four o'clock."
+
+"You'll be back by sundown?"
+
+"I am afraid not. I shall probably spend the night with Wobanguli."
+
+Carver groaned. "Send Inchi if things look as though they were going
+wrong," he said. "Might I suggest that you let him go to the village
+right away, and keep away from you altogether?"
+
+"If you'll instruct him so, please. In case there is trouble, throw your
+men into the fort." He took a package of papers from his pocket and gave
+them to Carver. "Here are some documents which I want you to take care
+of for me. They are all addressed. One of them is for you; it appoints
+you military commandant of Bulungan in case something should happen to
+me down below. Don't use it otherwise. If Van Slyck should make a fuss
+you will know how to handle him."
+
+"I understand," Carver replied shortly, and pocketed the envelope. He
+strode back to his shelter with a heavy heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+PETER GROSS'S PLEDGE
+
+
+The afternoon sun was pouring its full strength on the coral highway to
+Bulungan when Peter Gross rode to the council. He was mounted on a
+thoroughbred that he had brought with him from Java, and was in
+full-dress uniform. On his breast gleamed several decorations awarded
+him by Governor-General Van Schouten. It was the first time he had used
+them, and it was not vanity that inspired him to pin them on his coat.
+He realized the importance of employing every artifice to impress the
+native mind favorably toward its new ruler. Paddy Rouse was in
+field-service uniform, and rode a chestnut borrowed from the military
+stables.
+
+The terrific din created by several thousand gongs of brass, copper, and
+wood, beaten in every part of Bulungan to testify to the holiday, was
+plainly audible as they cantered along the road.
+
+"Sounds like the Fourth of July," Paddy remarked cheerfully.
+
+When they neared the village two Gustis, youthful Dyak chiefs with
+reputations yet to make, charged toward them with bared krisses. As the
+hoofs of their jet-black steeds thundered toward Peter Gross, Paddy gave
+his horse the spur and shot it half a length ahead of the resident. His
+hand was on the butt of his pistol when a low-voiced warning from his
+chief restrained him. Just as it seemed that they would be ridden down
+the horsemen parted and flashed by with krisses lifted to salute. They
+wheeled instantly and fell in behind the resident.
+
+"Whew," Paddy whistled softly. "I thought they meant business."
+
+"It was meant to do us honor," Peter Gross explained.
+
+More native princes spurred from the town to join the procession. In
+each instance the demonstration the same. Paddy noted that every one was
+mounted on a black horse and carried a kris whose handle was of either
+gold or ivory, and was studded with gems. None used saddles, but each
+horse was caparisoned with a gayly colored saddle-cloth embroidered with
+gold thread. The bridles were of many-colored cords and the bits of
+silver. He pointed out these things to Peter Gross in an undertone.
+
+"That shows that they are all of princely rank," Peter Gross informed
+him.
+
+The din from the gongs became almost deafening as they entered the
+outskirts of the town. The crowd thickened also, and it became
+increasingly difficult to break through the press. Paddy Rouse's eyes
+swam as he looked into the sea of black and brown faces grimacing and
+contorting. The scene was a riot of color; every native was dressed in
+his holiday best, which meant garments of the gaudiest and brightest
+dyes that his means enabled him to procure. Paddy noticed a patriarch in
+a pea-green velvet jacket, blue and orange chawat, or waist-cloth, and
+red, yellow, and blue kerchief head-dress. Most of the kerchief
+head-dresses, worn turban-fashion, were in three colors, blue
+predominating, he observed.
+
+"Big reception they're giving us," Paddy remarked.
+
+Peter Gross's reply was noncommittal. He felt a little of the forces
+that were at work beneath the surface, and realized how quickly this
+childishly curious, childishly happy mob could be converted into a
+bedlam of savagery.
+
+As they neared the huge twin Hindu deities, carved in stone, that formed
+the gate-posts of Wobanguli's palace grounds and the council-hall
+enclosure, the crowd massed so thickly that it was impossible for them
+to proceed. Paddy drove his horse into the press and split an aisle by a
+vicious display of hoofs and the liberal use of his quirt-stock. The
+crowd gave way sullenly, those behind refusing to give way for those in
+front. Paddy leaned sidewise in his saddle as they passed between the
+scowling gods.
+
+"Into the lion's den," he whispered to Peter Gross. His eye was
+sparkling; roughing the natives had whetted his appetite for action.
+
+Peter Gross sprang from his horse lightly--he had learned to ride before
+he went to sea--and entered the dimly lit hall. Rouse remained at the
+entrance and began looking about for Inchi. The little Malay was rubbing
+down a horse, but gave no sign of recognition when Rouse's glance met
+his. As Paddy looked away, his face, too, sobered. Only his eyes were
+more keenly alert.
+
+As Peter Gross became accustomed to the semi-darkness, he distinguished
+about forty chiefs and princes seated along the side walls of the
+building. There were two Europeans in the room in one corner. Peter
+Gross guessed their identity before he could distinguish their faces;
+they were Muller and Van Slyck.
+
+At the farther end of the hall was a platform. Two chairs of European
+make had been placed upon it. Wobanguli occupied one, the other was
+vacant. The hall was thick with smoke, for those who were not chewing
+betel were laboring on big Dutch pipes, introduced by their white
+rulers.
+
+Silence greeted Peter Gross as he slowly walked the length of the hall,
+and none rose to do him the customary honor. Instead of mounting the
+platform he remained standing at its base and looked sternly into the
+face of the Rajah. In a voice suspiciously sweet he asked:
+
+"Is it so long since a son of the white father has come to Bulungan that
+you have forgotten how he must be received, O Rajah?"
+
+There was a moment's pregnant pause, a moment when the royal mind did
+some quick thinking. Then Wobanguli rose and said:
+
+"We have heard the call and we are here, resident."
+
+The moment Wobanguli rose a quick rustle and the clicking of steel
+apprised Peter Gross that the others also had risen. Although he knew it
+was not in his honor--custom forbade lesser chiefs from sitting while
+the Rajah stood--he accepted it as such. He did not look around until he
+had mounted the platform. Then he gazed at each man individually.
+Something in his silent scrutiny sent a cold chill into the hearts of
+more than one of the chiefs who had endured it, but most of them
+returned it boldly and defiantly.
+
+Not until each of the forty had felt the power of his mesmeric glance
+did Peter Gross speak.
+
+"You may tell the council the purpose of this meting, Rajah," he
+announced, turning to Wobanguli, and then seated himself in the vacant
+chair.
+
+As Wobanguli came forward, Peter Gross had an opportunity to measure his
+man. The Rajah was tall, quite tall for a Bornean, powerfully built, but
+a trifle stoop-shouldered. His features were pronouncedly Malay rather
+than Dyak; there was a furtive look in his half-shut eyes that suggested
+craft and cunning, and his ever-ready smile was too suavely pleasant to
+deceive the resident.
+
+"A panther; he will be hard to tame," was Peter Gross's unspoken
+thought.
+
+Wobanguli began speaking in sonorous tones, using Malay-Dyak dialect,
+the _lingua franca_ of the residency.
+
+"Rajahs, Custis, Datus, and Kapalas, to-day hath Allah and the Hanu
+Token and the great god Djath given a new ruler to Bulungan."
+
+Peter Gross's brow contracted thoughtfully. It was apparent from
+Wobanguli's exordium that he was striving to please the adherents of
+every faith represented among the natives present. The Rajah continued:
+
+"In the days when the great fire mountains poured their rivers of flame
+into the boiling ocean our forefathers, led by the great god Djath, came
+to Borneo. They built villages and begat children. The fire mountains
+belched flame and molten rock, the great floods came to drown the
+mountains, the earth shook, and whole jungles were swallowed up; but
+ever our fathers clung to the island they had come to possess. Then
+Djath said: 'This is a strong people. I shall make it my own, my chosen
+people, and give to them and to their children's children forever the
+land of Borneo.'
+
+"From the seed of our fathers sprang many tribes. New nations came from
+over the sea and found habitation with us, and we called them 'brother.'
+Last of all came the white man. He sold us guns, and knives, and metals,
+and fine horses, and the drink that Allah says we must not touch, and
+opium. By and bye, when he was strong and we were weak, he said: 'I will
+give you a resident who shall be a father unto you. There will be no
+more killings, but every man shall have plenty of gongs and brass rings
+for his wives, and many bolts of brilliantly colored cloth, and much
+tobacco.' So we let the white man give us a ruler."
+
+There was an ominous stirring among the assembled chiefs. Peter Gross's
+face maintained an inscrutable calm, but he was thinking rapidly.
+Wobanguli's speech had all the elements of nitroglycerine, he realized.
+
+"It is now many moons since the first white father came to dwell with
+us," Wobanguli continued. "Three times has the great fire mountain
+belched flame and smoke to show she was angry with us, and three times
+have we given of our gifts to appease the spirits. We are poor. Our
+women hide their nakedness with the leaves of palm-trees. Our tribesmen
+carve their kris-handles from the branches of the ironwood-tree."
+
+He paused. The air was electric. Another word, a single passionate plea,
+would unsheath forty krisses, Peter Gross perceived. Wobanguli was
+looking at him, savage exultation leering in his eyes, but Peter Gross's
+face did not change a muscle, and he waited with an air of polite
+attention. Wobanguli faced the assembly again:
+
+"Our elder brother from over the sea, who was sent to us by the little
+father at Batavia, will tell us to-day how he will redeem the promises
+made to us," he announced. "I have spoken."
+
+So abrupt was the climax that Peter Gross scarcely realized the Rajah
+had concluded until he was back in his chair. There was a moment's
+dramatic hush. Conscious that Wobanguli had brought him to the very
+edge of a precipice as a test, conscious, too, that the Rajah was
+disappointed because his intended victim had failed to reveal the
+weakness he had expected to find, Peter Gross rose slowly and
+impressively to meet the glances of the forty chiefs now centered so
+hostilely upon him.
+
+"Princes of our residency of Bulungan"--he began; there was a stir in
+the crowd; he was using the native tongue, the same dialect Wobanguli
+had used--"the Rajah Wobanguli has told you the purpose of this meeting.
+He has told you of the promises made by those who were resident here
+before me. He has reminded you that these promises have not been
+fulfilled. But he has not told you why they were not fulfilled. I am
+here to-day to tell you the reason."
+
+A low, whistling sound, the simultaneous sharp intake of breath through
+the nostrils of forty men, filled the room. Pipes and betel and sirih
+were laid aside. Rajahs, governors, and princes craned their heads and
+looked ominously over the shafts of their spears at their resident.
+
+"There are in this land three peoples, or perhaps four," Peter Gross
+said. "Only two of these are the real owners of Borneo, the people whose
+fathers settled this island in the early days, as your Rajah has told
+you. They are the hill Dyaks and the sea Dyaks, who are one people
+though two nations. The Malays are outlanders. The Chinese are
+outlanders. They have the same right to live here that the white man
+has--no more, no less. That right comes from the increase in riches
+they bring and the trade they bring."
+
+A hoarse murmur arose. The Malay Datus' scowls were blacker. The Dyaks
+looked sullenly at their arch-enemies, the brown immigrants from
+Malacca.
+
+"Long before the first white man came here, the two nations of
+Dyaks--the Dyaks of the sea and the Dyaks of the hills--were at war with
+each other. The skulls of the people of each nation decorated the
+lodge-poles of their enemies. The Dyaks of the sea made treaties with
+the Bajaus, the Malays, the Bugis, and the Chinese sea-rovers. Together
+these people have driven the Dyaks of the hills far inland, almost to
+the crest of the great fire mountains. But the price they pay is the
+surrender of their strong men to row the proas of their masters, the
+pirates. The spring rains come, but the rice is left unsowed, for a fair
+crop attracts the spoilers, and only the poor are left in peace. Poverty
+has come upon your Dyaks. Your kris-handles are of wood, while those of
+your masters are of gold and jewels."
+
+Peter Gross paused. The Dyaks were glaring at the Malays, the Malays
+looked as fiercely back. Several chiefs were fingering their
+kris-handles. Muller was watching the tribesmen in anxious bewilderment;
+Van Slyck hid in the shadows.
+
+"Forget your feuds and listen to me," Peter Gross thundered in a voice
+of authority that focused instant attention upon him. "Let me tell you
+what I have come to do for Bulungan."
+
+He turned to a group of short, lithely built men armed with spears.
+
+"To you, hill Dyaks, I bring peace and an end of all raiding. No more
+shall the coast-rovers cross your borders. Your women will be safe while
+you hunt dammar gum and resin in the forests; the man who steals a woman
+against her will shall hang. I, your resident, have spoken."
+
+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. The _balas_ money 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. But swift 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 people are 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, my brothers,
+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 and they 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 thick and 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 Hanu Token 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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE POISONED ARROW
+
+
+"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 old man 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 at heart. 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 across the 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 the _Prins_ here."
+
+"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."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+A SUMMONS TO SADONG
+
+
+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
+     of _controlleurs_, whose rulings appeared unjust to me, and in
+     both cases my decision was in favor of the poorer litigant.
+     This has displeased some of the _orang 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 the _controlleur_ in 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 the _Prins 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 perfectly shaped those
+ankles were, and how delicately her exquisitely formed feet tapered in
+the soft, doe-skin sandals.
+
+"Well, _juffrouw_, which of my _controlleurs_ is 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 looked at
+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 were spoken, 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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+KOYALA'S ULTIMATUM
+
+
+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
+follow them 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-a-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.
+
+"The _bilian_ is 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 than two 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 smoothed his 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 the _orang blanda_ out 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--laughed at my disgrace--yea, I know he
+was laughing, though he hid his smile with the cunning of the _orang
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+LKATH'S CONVERSION
+
+
+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 the _orang blanda_ chief 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 living flame. 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-a-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 fitted out 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 fricassee 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 the _balais_, 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 detours 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, its possibilities 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 Dyak
+can 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 before _malam_"
+(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 her knees 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."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+CAPTURED BY PIRATES
+
+
+When they rose the next morning Peter Gross inquired for his host, but
+was met with evasive replies. A premonition that something had gone
+wrong came upon him. He asked for Koyala.
+
+"The Bintang Burung has flown to the jungle," one of the servant lads
+informed him after several of the older natives had shrugged their
+shoulders, professing ignorance.
+
+"When did she go?" he asked.
+
+"The stars were still shining, Datu, when she spread her wings," the lad
+replied. The feeling that something was wrong grew upon the resident.
+
+An hour passed, with no sign of Lkath. Attempting to leave the house,
+Peter Gross and Paddy were politely but firmly informed that they must
+await the summons to the _balais_, or assembly-hall, from the chieftain.
+
+"This is a rum go," Paddy grumbled.
+
+"I am very much afraid that something has happened to turn Lkath against
+us," Peter Gross remarked. "I wish Koyala had stayed."
+
+The summons to attend the _balais_ came a little later. When they
+entered the hall they saw a large crowd of natives assembled. Lkath was
+seated in the judge's seat. Peter Gross approached him to make the
+customary salutation, but Lkath rose and folded his hands over his
+chest.
+
+"Mynheer Resident," the chief said with dignity, "your mission in Sadong
+is accomplished. You have saved us from a needless war with the hill
+people. But I and the elders of my tribe have talked over this thing,
+and we have decided that it is best you should go. The Sadong Dyaks owe
+nothing to the _orang blanda_. They ask nothing of the _orang blanda_.
+You came in peace. Go in peace."
+
+A tumult of emotions rose in Peter Gross's breast. To see the fruits of
+his victory snatched from him in this way was unbearable. A wild desire
+to plead with Lkath, to force him to reason, came upon him, but he
+fought it down. It would only hurt his standing among the natives, he
+knew; he must command, not beg.
+
+"It shall be as you say, Lkath," he said. "Give me a pilot and let me
+go."
+
+"He awaits you on the beach," Lkath replied. With this curt dismissal,
+Peter Gross was forced to go.
+
+The failure of his mission weighed heavily upon Peter Gross, and he said
+little all that day. Paddy could see that his chief was wholly unable to
+account for Lkath's change of sentiment. Several times he heard the
+resident murmur: "If only Koyala had stayed."
+
+Shortly before sundown, while their proa was making slow headway
+against an unfavorable breeze Paddy noticed his chief standing on the
+raised afterdeck, watching another proa that had sailed out of a
+jungle-hid creek-mouth shortly before and was now following in their
+wake. He cocked an eye at the vessel himself and remarked:
+
+"Is that soap-dish faster than ours, or are we gaining?"
+
+"That is precisely what I am trying to decide," Peter Gross answered
+gravely.
+
+Paddy observed the note of concern in the resident's voice.
+
+"She isn't a pirate, is she?" he asked quickly.
+
+"I am very much afraid she is." Peter Gross spoke calmly, but Paddy
+noticed a tremor in his voice.
+
+"Then we'll have to fight for it?" he exclaimed.
+
+Peter Gross avoided a direct reply. "I'm wondering why she can stay so
+close inshore and outsail us," he said. "The wind is offshore, those
+high hills should cut her off from what little breeze we're getting, yet
+she neither gains nor loses an inch on us."
+
+"Why doesn't she come out where she can get the breeze?"
+
+"Ay, why doesn't she?" Peter Gross echoed. "If she were an honest trader
+she would. But keeping that course enables her to intercept us in case
+we should try to make shore."
+
+Paddy did not appear greatly disturbed at the prospect of a brush with
+pirates. In fact, there was something like a sparkle of anticipation in
+his eyes. But seeing his chief so concerned, he suggested soberly:
+
+"Can't we beat out to sea and lose them during the night?"
+
+"Not if this is the ship I fear it is," the resident answered gravely.
+
+"What ship?" The question was frankly curious.
+
+"Did you hear something like a muffled motor exhaust a little while
+ago?"
+
+Paddy looked up in surprise. "That's just what I thought it was, only I
+thought I must be crazy, imagining such a thing here."
+
+Peter Gross sighed. "I thought so," he said with gentle resignation. "It
+must be her."
+
+"Who? What?" There was no escaping the lad's eager curiosity.
+
+"The ghost proa. She's a pirate--Ah Sing's own ship, if reports be true.
+I've never seen her; few white men have; but there are stories enough
+about her, God knows. She's equipped with a big marine engine imported
+from New York, I've heard; and built like a launch, though she's got the
+trimmings of a proa. She can outrun any ship, steam or sail, this side
+of Hong Kong, and she's manned by a crew of fiends that never left a
+man, woman or child alive yet on any ship they've taken."
+
+Paddy's face whitened a little, and he looked earnestly at the ship.
+Presently he started and caught Peter Gross's arm.
+
+"There," he exclaimed. "The motor again! Did you hear it?"
+
+"Ay," Peter Gross replied. "We had gained a few hundred yards on them,
+and they've made it up."
+
+Paddy noted the furtive glances cast at them by the crew of their own
+proa, mostly Bugis and Bajaus, the sea-rovers and the sea-wash, with a
+slight sprinkling of Dyaks. He called Peter Gross's attention to it.
+
+"They know the proa," the resident said. "They'll neither fight nor run.
+The fight is ours, Paddy. You'd better get some rifles on deck."
+
+"We're going to fight?" Rouse asked eagerly.
+
+"Ay," Peter Gross answered soberly. "We'll fight to the end." He placed
+a hand on his protege's shoulder.
+
+"I shouldn't have brought you here, my lad," he said. There was anguish
+in his voice. "I should have thought of this--"
+
+"I'll take my chances," Paddy interrupted gruffly, turning away. He dove
+into their tiny cubicle, a boxlike contrivance between decks, to secure
+rifles and cartridges. They carried revolvers. When he came up the sun
+was almost touching the rim of the horizon. The pursuing proa, he
+noticed had approached much nearer, almost within hailing distance.
+
+"They don't intend to lose us in the dark," he remarked cheerfully.
+
+"The moon rises early to-night," Peter Gross replied.
+
+A few minutes later, as the sun was beginning to make its thunderclap
+tropic descent, the _juragan_, or captain of the proa issued a sharp
+order. The crew leaped to the ropes and began hauling in sail. Peter
+Gross swung his rifle to his shoulder and covered the navigator.
+
+"Tell your crew to keep away from those sails," he said with deadly
+intentness.
+
+The _juragan_ hesitated a moment, glanced over his shoulder at the
+pursuing proa, and then reversed his orders. As the crew scrambled down
+they found themselves under Paddy's rifle.
+
+"Get below, every man of you," Peter Gross barked in the _lingua franca_
+of the islands. "Repeat that order, _juragan_!"
+
+The latter did so sullenly, and the crew dropped hastily below,
+apparently well content at keeping out of the impending hostilities.
+
+These happenings were plainly visible from the deck of the pursuing
+proa. The sharp chug-chug of a motor suddenly sounded, and the disguised
+launch darted forward like a hawk swooping down on a chicken. Casting
+aside all pretense, her crew showed themselves above the rail. There
+were at least fifty of them, mostly Chinese and Malays, fierce,
+wicked-looking men, big and powerful, some of them nearly as large,
+physically, as the resident himself. They were armed with magazine
+rifles and revolvers and long-bladed krisses. A rapid-firer was mounted
+on the forward deck.
+
+Paddy turned to his chief with a whimsical smile. "Pretty big contract,"
+he remarked with unimpaired cheerfulness.
+
+Peter Gross's face was white. He knew what Paddy did not know, the
+fiendish tortures the pirates inflicted on their hapless victims. He was
+debating whether it were more merciful to shoot the lad and then himself
+or to make a vain stand and take the chance of being rendered helpless
+by a wound.
+
+The launch was only a hundred yards away now--twenty yards. A cabin door
+on her aft deck opened and Peter Gross saw the face of Ah Sing, aglow in
+the dying rays of the sun with a fiendish malignancy and satisfaction.
+Lifting his rifle, he took quick aim.
+
+Four things happened almost simultaneously as his rifle cracked. One was
+Ah Sing staggering forward, another was a light footfall on the deck
+behind him and a terrific crash on his head that filled the western
+heavens from horizon to zenith with a blaze of glory, the third was the
+roaring of a revolver in his ear and Paddy's voice trailing into the dim
+distance:
+
+"I got you, damn you."
+
+When he awoke he found himself in a vile, evil-smelling hole, in utter
+darkness. He had a peculiar sensation in the pit of his stomach, and his
+lips and tongue were dry and brittle as cork. His head felt the size of
+a barrel. He groaned unconsciously.
+
+"Waking up, governor?" a cheerful voice asked. It was Paddy.
+
+By this time Peter Gross was aware, from the rolling motion, that they
+were at sea. After a confused moment he picked up the thread of memory
+where it had been broken off.
+
+"They got us, did they?" he asked.
+
+"They sure did," Paddy chirruped, as though it was quite a lark.
+
+"We haven't landed yet?"
+
+"We made one stop. Just a few hours, I guess, to get some grub aboard. I
+can't make out much of their lingo, but from what I've heard I believe
+we're headed for one of the coast towns where we can get a doctor. That
+shot of yours hit the old bird in the shoulder; he's scared half to
+death he's going to croak."
+
+"If he only does," Peter Gross prayed fervently under his breath. He
+asked Paddy: "How long have we been here?"
+
+"About fourteen hours, I'd say on a guess. We turned back a ways, made a
+stop, and then headed this way. I'm not much of a sailor, but I believe
+we've kept a straight course since. At least the roll of the launch
+hasn't changed any."
+
+"Fourteen hours," Peter Gross mused. "It might be toward Coti, or it
+might be the other way. Have they fed you?"
+
+"Not a blankety-blanked thing. Not even sea-water. I'm so dry I could
+swallow the Mississippi."
+
+Peter Gross made no comment. "Tell me what happened," he directed.
+
+Paddy, who was sitting cross-legged, tried to shuffle into a more
+comfortable position. In doing so he bumped his head against the top of
+their prison. "Ouch!" he exclaimed feelingly.
+
+"You're not hurt?" Peter Gross asked quickly.
+
+"A plug in the arm and a tunk on the head," Paddy acknowledged. "The one
+in my arm made me drop my rifle, but I got two of the snakes before they
+got me. Then I got three more with the gat before somebody landed me a
+lallapaloosa on the beano and I took the count. One of the
+steersmen--_jurumuddis_ you call 'em, don't you?--got you. We forgot
+about those chaps in the steersmen's box when we ordered the crew below.
+But I finished him. He's decorating a nice flat in a shark's belly by
+now."
+
+Peter Gross was silent.
+
+"Wonder why they didn't chuck us overboard," Paddy remarked after a
+time. "I thought that was the polite piratical stunt. Seeing they were
+so darned considerate, giving us this private apartment, they might
+rustle us some grub."
+
+"How shall I tell this light-hearted lad what is before us?" Peter Gross
+groaned in silent agony.
+
+A voluble chatter broke out overhead. Through the thin flooring they
+heard the sound of naked feet pattering toward the rail. A moment later
+the ship's course was altered and it began pitching heavily in the big
+rollers. Peter Gross sat bolt upright, listening intently.
+
+"What's stirring now?" Paddy asked.
+
+"Hist! I don't know," Peter Gross warned sharply.
+
+There was a harsh command to draw in sail, intelligible only to Peter
+Gross, for it was in the island patois. Paddy waited in breathless
+anticipation while Peter Gross, every muscle strained and tense,
+listened to the dissonancy above, creaking cordage, the flapping of
+bamboo sails, and the jargon of two-score excited men jabbering in their
+various tongues.
+
+There was a series of light explosions, and then a steady vibration
+shook the ship. It leaped ahead instantly in response to its powerful
+motor. It was hardly under way when they heard a whistling sound
+overhead. There was a moment's pause, then the dull boom of an explosion
+reached their ear.
+
+"We're under shell-fire!" Paddy gasped.
+
+"That must be the _Prins_," Peter Gross exclaimed. "I hope to Heaven
+Enckel doesn't know we're aboard."
+
+Another whistle of a passing shell and the thunder of an explosion. The
+two were almost simultaneous, the shell could not have fallen far from
+the launch's bow, both knew.
+
+"They may sink us!" Paddy cried in a half-breath.
+
+"Better drowning than torture." The curt reply was cut short by another
+shell. The explosion was more distant.
+
+"They're losing the range." Paddy exclaimed in a low voice. In a flash
+it came to him why Peter Gross had said: "I hope Enckel doesn't know
+we're here."
+
+Peter Gross stared, white, and silent into the blackness, waiting for
+the next shell. It was long in coming, and fell astern. A derisive shout
+rose from the pirates.
+
+"The _Prins_ is falling behind," Paddy cried despairingly.
+
+"Ay, the proa is too fast for her," the resident assented in a scarcely
+audible voice. Tears were coursing down his cheeks, tears for the lad
+that he had brought here to suffer unnameable tortures, for Peter Gross
+did not underestimate the fiendish ingenuity of Ah Sing and his crew. He
+felt grateful for the wall of darkness between them.
+
+"Well, there's more than one way to crawl out of a rain-barrel," Paddy
+observed with unimpaired cheerfulness.
+
+Peter Gross felt that he should speak and tell Rouse what they had to
+expect, but the words choked in his throat. Blissful ignorance and a
+natural buoyant optimism sustained the lad, it would be cruel to take
+them away, the resident thought. He groaned again.
+
+"Cheer up," Paddy cried, "we'll get another chance."
+
+The grotesqueness of the situation--his youthful protege striving to
+raise his flagging spirits--came home to Peter Gross even in that moment
+of suffering and brought a rueful smile to his lips.
+
+"I'm afraid, my lad, that the _Prins_ was our last hope," he said. There
+was an almost fatherly sympathy in his voice, responsibility seemed to
+have added a decade to the slight disparity of years between them.
+
+"Rats!" Paddy grunted. "We're not going to turn in our checks just yet,
+governor. This bird's got to go ashore somewhere, and it'll be deuced
+funny if Cap Carver and the little lady don't figure out some way
+between 'em to get us out of this."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+IN THE TEMPLE
+
+
+The hatch above them opened. A bestial Chinese face, grinning cruelly,
+appeared in it.
+
+"You b'g-um fellow gettee outtee here plenty damn' quick!" the Chinaman
+barked. He thrust a piece of bamboo into the hole and prodded the
+helpless captives below with a savage energy. The third thrust of the
+cane found Peter Gross's ribs. With a hoarse cry of anger Paddy sprang
+to his feet and shot his fist into the Chinaman's face before the
+resident could cry a warning.
+
+The blow caught the pirate between the eyes and hurled him back on the
+deck. He gazed at Paddy a dazed moment and then sprang to his feet.
+Lifting the cane in both his hands above his head, he uttered a shriek
+of fury and would have driven the weapon through Rouse's body had not a
+giant Bugi, standing near by, jumped forward and caught his arm.
+
+Wrestling with the maddened Chinaman, the Bugi shouted some words wholly
+unintelligible to Paddy in the pirate's ear. Peter Gross scrambled to
+his feet.
+
+"Jump on deck, my lad," he shouted. "Quick, let them see you. It may
+save us."
+
+Paddy obeyed. The morning sun, about four hours high, played through his
+rumpled hair, the auburn gleaming like flame. Malays, Dyaks, and Bugis,
+attracted by the noise of the struggle, crowded round and pointed at
+him, muttering superstitiously.
+
+"Act like a madman," Peter Gross whispered hoarsely to his aide.
+
+Paddy broke into a shriek of foolish laughter. He shook as though
+overcome with mirth, and folded his arms over his stomach as he rocked
+back and forth. Suddenly straightening, he yelled a shrill "Whoopee!"
+The next moment he executed a handspring into the midst of the natives,
+almost upsetting one of them. The circle widened. A Chinese mate tried
+to interfere, but the indignant islanders thrust him violently aside. He
+shouted to the _juragan_, who ran forward, waving a pistol.
+
+Every one of the crew was similarly armed, and every one wore a kris.
+They formed in a crescent between their officer and the captives. In a
+twinkling Peter Gross and Rouse found themselves encircled by a wall of
+steel.
+
+The _juragan's_ automatic dropped to a dead level with the eyes of the
+Bugi who had saved Paddy. He bellowed an angry command, but the Bugi
+closed his eyes and lowered his head resignedly, nodding in negation.
+The other islanders stood firm. The Chinese of the crew ranged
+themselves behind their captain and a bloody fight seemed imminent.
+
+A Dyak left the ranks and began talking volubly to the _juragan_,
+gesticulating wildly and pointing at Paddy Rouse and then at the sun. A
+crooning murmur of assent arose from the native portion of the crew. The
+_juragan_ retorted sharply. The Dyak broke into another volley of
+protestations. Paddy looked on with a glaringly stupid smile. The
+_juragan_ watched him suspiciously while the Dyak talked, but gradually
+his scowl faded. At last he gave a peremptory command and stalked away.
+The crew returned to their duties.
+
+"We're to be allowed to stay on deck as long as we behave ourselves
+until we near shore, or unless some trader passes us," Peter Gross said
+in a low voice to Rouse. Paddy blinked to show that he understood, and
+burst into shouts of foolish laughter, hopping around on all fours. The
+natives respectfully made room for him. He kept up these antics at
+intervals during the day, while Peter Gross, remaining in the shade of
+the cabin, watched the pirates. After prying into every part of the
+vessel with a childish curiosity that none of the crew sought to
+restrain, Paddy returned to his chief and reported in a low whisper:
+
+"The old bird isn't aboard, governor."
+
+"I rather suspected he wasn't," Peter Gross answered. "He must have been
+put ashore at the stop you spoke of."
+
+It was late that day when the proa, after running coastwise all day,
+turned a quarter circle into one of the numerous bays indenting the
+coast. Peter Gross recognized the familiar headlands crowning Bulungan
+Bay. Paddy also recognized them, for he cried:
+
+"They're bringing us back home."
+
+At that moment the tall Bugi who had been their sponsor approached them
+and made signs to indicate that they must return to the box between
+decks from which he had rescued them. He tried to show by signs and
+gestures his profound regret at the necessity of locking them up again,
+his anxiety to convince the "son of the Gunong Agong" was almost
+ludicrous. Realizing the futility of objecting, Peter Gross and Paddy
+permitted themselves to be locked in the place once more.
+
+It was quite dark and the stars were shining brightly when the hatch was
+lifted again. As they rose from their cramped positions and tried to
+make out the circle of faces about them, unceremonious hands yanked them
+to the deck, thrust foul-smelling cloths into their mouths, blindfolded
+them, and trussed their hands and feet with stout cords. They were
+lowered into a boat, and after a brief row were tossed on the beach like
+so many sacks of wool, placed in boxlike receptacles, and hurried
+inland. Two hours' steady jogging followed, in which they were thrown
+about until every inch of skin on their bodies was raw with bruises.
+They were then taken out of the boxes and the cloths and cords were
+removed.
+
+Looking about, Peter Gross and Paddy found themselves in the enclosed
+court of what was evidently the ruins of an ancient Hindoo temple. The
+massive columns, silvery in the bright moonlight, were covered with
+inscriptions and outline drawings, crudely made in hieroglyphic art. In
+the center of one wall was the chipped and weather-scarred pedestal of a
+Buddha. The idol itself, headless, lay broken in two on the floor beside
+it. Peter Gross's brow puckered--the very existence of such a temple two
+hours' journey distant from Bulungan Bay had been unknown to him.
+
+The _juragan_ and his Chinese left after giving sharp instructions to
+their jailers, two Chinese, to guard them well. Peter Gross and Paddy
+looked about in vain for a single friendly face or even the face of a
+brown-skinned man--every member of the party was Chinese. The jailers
+demonstrated their capacity by promptly thrusting their prisoners into a
+dark room off the main court. It was built of stone, like the rest of
+the temple.
+
+"Not much chance for digging out of here," Rouse observed, after
+examining the huge stones, literally mortised together, and the narrow
+window aperture with its iron gratings. Peter Gross also made as careful
+an examination of their prison as the darkness permitted.
+
+"We may as well make ourselves comfortable," was his only observation at
+the close of his investigation.
+
+They chatted a short time, and at last Paddy, worn out by his exertions,
+fell asleep. Peter Gross listened for a while to the lad's rhythmic
+breathing, then tip-toed to the gratings and pulled himself up to them.
+A cackle of derisive laughter arose outside. Realizing that the place
+was carefully watched, he dropped back to the floor and began pacing the
+chamber, his head lowered in thought. Presently he stopped beside Rouse
+and gazed into the lad's upturned face, blissfully serene in the
+innocent confidence of youth. Tears gathered in his eyes.
+
+"I shouldn't have brought him here; I shouldn't have brought him here,"
+he muttered brokenly.
+
+The scraping of the ponderous bar that bolted the door interrupted his
+meditations shortly after daybreak. The door creaked rustily on its
+hinges, and an ugly, leering Chinese face peered inside. Satisfying
+himself that his prisoners were not planning mischief, the Chinaman
+thrust two bowls of soggy rice and a pannikin of water inside and
+gestured to Peter Gross that he must eat. The indignant protest of the
+door as it closed awoke Paddy, who sat bolt upright and blinked sleepily
+until he saw the food.
+
+"What? Time for breakfast?" he exclaimed with an amiable grin. "I must
+have overslept."
+
+He picked up a bowl of rice, stirred it critically with one of the
+chopsticks their jailers had provided, and snuffed at the mixture. He
+put it down with a wry face.
+
+"Whew!" he whistled. "It's stale."
+
+"You had better try to eat something," Peter Gross advised.
+
+"I'm that hungry I could eat toasted sole leather," Paddy confessed.
+"But this stuff smells to heaven."
+
+Peter Gross took the other bowl and began eating, wielding the
+chopsticks expertly.
+
+"It isn't half bad--I've had worse rations on board your uncle's ship,"
+he encouraged.
+
+"Then my dear old avunculus ought to be hung," Paddy declared with
+conviction. Hunger and his superior's example finally overcame his
+scruples, however, and presently he was eating with gusto.
+
+"Faith," he exclaimed, "I've got more appetite than I imagined."
+
+Peter Gross did not answer. He was wondering whether the rice was
+poisoned, and half hoped it was. It would be an easier death than by
+torture, he thought. But he forebore mentioning this to Paddy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+AH SING'S VENGEANCE
+
+
+Two days, whose monotony was varied only by occasional visits from one
+or another of their jailers, passed in this way. Peter Gross's faint
+hope that they might be able to escape by overpowering the Chinamen,
+while the latter brought them their meals, faded; the jailers had
+evidently been particularly cautioned against such an attempt and were
+on their guard.
+
+On the afternoon of the second day a commotion in the fore-court of the
+temple, distinctly audible through the gratings, raised their curiosity
+to fever heat. They listened intently and tried to distinguish voices
+and words in the hubbub, but were unsuccessful. It was apparent,
+however, that a large party had arrived. There were fully a hundred men
+in it, Peter Gross guessed, possibly twice that number.
+
+"What's this?" Paddy asked.
+
+Peter Gross's face was set in hard, firm lines, and there was an
+imperious note in his voice as he said:
+
+"Come here, Paddy. I have a few words to say to you."
+
+Paddy's face lost its familiar smile as he followed his chief to the
+corner of their prison farthest from the door.
+
+"I don't know what this means, but I rather suspect that Ah Sing has
+arrived," Peter Gross said. He strove to speak calmly, but his voice
+broke. "If that is the case, we will probably part. You will not see me
+again. You may escape, but it is doubtful. If you see the slightest
+chance to get away, take it. Being shot or krissed is a quicker death
+than by torture."
+
+In spite of his effort at self-control, Paddy's face blanched.
+
+"By torture?" he asked in a low voice of amazement.
+
+"That is what we may expect," Peter Gross declared curtly.
+
+Paddy breathed hard a moment. Then he laid an impulsive hand on his
+leader's arm.
+
+"Let's rush 'em the minute the door opens, Mr. Gross."
+
+Peter Gross shook his head in negation. "While there is life there is
+hope," he said, smiling.
+
+Paddy did not perceive that his chief was offering himself in the hope
+that his death might appease the pirate's craving for vengeance.
+
+They strolled about, their hearts too full for speech. Presently Paddy
+lifted his head alertly and signaled for silence. He was standing near
+the window and raised himself on tiptoe to catch the sounds coming
+through. Peter Gross walked softly toward him.
+
+"What is it?" he asked.
+
+"I thought I heard a white man speaking just now," Paddy whispered. "It
+sounded like Van Slyck's voice--Hist!"
+
+A low murmur of ironic laughter came through the gratings. Peter Gross's
+face became black with anger. There was no doubting who it was that had
+laughed.
+
+A few minutes later they heard the scraping of the heavy bar as it was
+lifted out of its socket, then the door opened. Several armed Chinamen,
+giants of their race, sprang inside. Ah Sing entered behind them,
+pointed at Peter Gross, and issued a harsh, guttural command.
+
+The resident walked forward and passively submitted to the rough hands
+placed upon him. Paddy tried to follow, but two of the guards thrust him
+back so roughly that he fell. Furious with anger, he leaped to his feet
+and sprang at one of them, but the Chinaman caught him, doubled his arm
+with a jiu-jitsu trick, and then threw him down again. The other prodded
+him with a spear. Inwardly raging, Paddy lay motionless until the guards
+tired of their sport and left him.
+
+In the meantime Peter Gross was half led, half dragged through the
+fore-court of the temple into another chamber. Those behind him prodded
+him with spear-points, those in front spit in his face. He stumbled, and
+as he regained his balance four barbs entered his back and legs, but his
+teeth were grimly set and he made no sound. Although he gazed about for
+Van Slyck, he saw no signs of him; the captain had unquestionably deemed
+it best to keep out of sight.
+
+In the chamber, at Ah Sing's command, they bound him securely hand and
+foot, with thongs of crocodile hide. Then the guards filed out and left
+the pirate chief alone with his prisoner.
+
+As the doors closed on them Ah Sing walked slowly toward the resident,
+who was lying on his back on the tessellated pavement. Peter Gross
+looked back calmly into the eyes that were fixed so gloatingly upon him.
+In them he read no sign of mercy. They shone with a savage exultation
+and fiendish cruelty. Ah Sing sighed a sigh of satisfaction.
+
+"Why you don't speak, Mynheer Gross?" he asked, mimicking Van Schouten's
+raspy voice.
+
+Peter Gross made no reply, but continued staring tranquilly into the
+face of his arch-enemy.
+
+"Mebbe you comee Ah Sing's house for two-three men?" the pirate chief
+suggested with a wicked grin.
+
+"Mebbe you show Ah Sing one damn' fine ring Mauritius?" the pirate chief
+mocked.
+
+Peter Gross did not flick an eyelash. A spasm of passion flashed over Ah
+Sing's face, and he kicked the resident violently.
+
+"Speakee, Chlistian dog," he snarled.
+
+Peter Gross's lips twitched with pain, but he did not utter a sound.
+
+"I teachum you speakee Ah Sing," the pirate declared grimly. Whipping a
+dagger from his girdle, he thrust it between Peter Gross's fourth and
+fifth ribs next to his heart. The point entered the skin, but Peter
+Gross made no sound. It penetrated a quarter-inch.
+
+Ah Sing, smiling evilly, searched the face of his victim for an
+expression of fear or pain. Three-eighths of an inch, half an
+inch--Peter Gross suddenly lunged forward. An involuntary contraction of
+his facial muscles betrayed him, and the Chinaman pulled the dagger away
+before the resident could impale himself upon it. He stepped back, and a
+look of admiration came upon his face--it was the tribute of one strong
+man to another.
+
+"Peter him muchee likee go _sangjang_ (hades)," he observed. "Ah Sing
+sendee him to-mollow, piecee, piecee, plenty much talkee then." The
+pirate indicated with strokes of his dagger that he would cut off Peter
+Gross's toes, fingers, ears, nose, arms, and legs piecemeal at the
+torture. Giving his victim another violent kick, he turned and passed
+through the door. A few minutes later a native physician came in with
+two armed guards and staunched the flow of blood, applying bandages with
+dressings of herbs to subdue inflammation.
+
+Night settled soon after. The darkness in the chamber was abysmal. Peter
+Gross lay on one side and stared into the blackness, waiting for the
+morning, the morning Ah Sing promised to make his last. Rats scurried
+about the floor and stopped to sniff suspiciously at him. At times he
+wished they were numerous enough to attack him. He knew full well the
+savage ingenuity of the wretches into whose hands he had fallen for
+devising tortures unspeakable, unendurable.
+
+Dawn came at last. The first rays of the sun peeping through the
+gratings found him asleep. Exhausted nature had demanded her toll, and
+even the horror of his situation had failed to banish slumber from his
+heavy lids. As the sun rose and gained strength the temperature sensibly
+increased, but Peter Gross slept on.
+
+He awoke naturally. Stretching himself to ease his stiffened limbs, he
+felt a sharp twitch of pain that brought instant remembrance. He
+struggled to a sitting posture. The position of the sun's rays on the
+wall indicated that the morning was well advanced.
+
+He listened for the camp sounds, wondering why his captors had not
+appeared for him before now. There was no sound outside except the
+soughing of the wind through the jungle and the lackadaisical chatter of
+the pargams and lories.
+
+"Strange!" he muttered to himself. "It can't be that they've left."
+
+His shoulders were aching frightfully, and he tugged at his bonds to get
+his hands free, but they were too firmly bound to be released by his
+unaided efforts. His clothing, he noticed, was almost drenched, the
+heavy night dew had clustered thickly upon it. So does man cling to the
+minor comforts even in his extremity that he labored to bring himself
+within the narrow park of the sun's rays to dry his clothing.
+
+He was still enjoying his sun-bath when he heard the bar that fastened
+the door of his chamber lifted from its sockets. His lips closed firmly.
+A half-uttered prayer, "God give me strength," floated upward, then the
+door opened. An armed guard, one of his jailers for the past two days,
+peered inside.
+
+Seeing his prisoner firmly bound, he ventured within with the customary
+bowl of rice and pannikin of water. A slash of his kris cut the thongs
+binding Peter Gross's hands, then the jailer backed to the door while
+the resident slowly and dazedly unwound the thongs that had bound him.
+
+Expecting nothing else than that he would be led to the torture,
+persuaded that the door would be opened for no other purpose, Peter
+Gross could not comprehend for a few moments what had happened. Then he
+realized that a few hours of additional grace had been vouchsafed him,
+and that Ah Sing and his crew must have left.
+
+He wondered why food was offered him. In the imminent expectancy of
+death, the very thought of eating had nauseated him the moment before.
+Yet to have this shadow removed, if only for a few hours, brought him an
+appetite. He ate with relish, the guard watching him in the meantime
+with cat-like intentness and holding his spear in instant readiness. As
+soon as the resident had finished he bore the dishes away, barring the
+door carefully again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+A RESCUE
+
+
+Released from his bonds, for the jailer had not replaced these, Peter
+Gross spent the hours in comparative comfort. He amused himself in
+examining every inch of the cell in the faint hope that he might find a
+weak spot, and in meditating other plans of escape. Although missing
+Paddy's ready smile and readier chaff greatly, he did not worry about
+the lad, for since he was safe himself he reasoned that his subordinate
+must be.
+
+Late in the afternoon, while he was pacing his cell, the sharp crack of
+a rifle suddenly broke the forest stillness. Holding himself tense and
+rigid with every fiber thrilling at the thought of rescue, he listened
+for the repetition of the shot. It came quickly, mingled with a
+blood-curdling yell from a hundred or more savage throats. There were
+other scattered shots.
+
+His finger-nails bit into his palms, and his heart seemed to stand
+still. Had Carver found him? Were these Dyaks friends or enemies? The
+next few moments seemed that many eternities; then he heard a ringing
+American shout:
+
+"We've got 'em all, boys; come on!"
+
+Peter Gross leaped to the grating. "Here, Carver, here!" he shouted at
+the top of his voice.
+
+"Coming!" twenty or more voices shouted in a scattered chorus. There was
+a rush of feet, leather-shod feet, across the fore-court pavement. The
+heavy bar was lifted. Striving to remain calm, although his heart beat
+tumultuously, Peter Gross waited in the center of the chamber until the
+door opened and Carver sprang within.
+
+The captain blinked to accustom himself to the light. Peter Gross
+stepped forward and their hands clasped.
+
+"In time, Mr. Gross, thank God!" Carver exclaimed. "Where's Paddy?"
+
+"In the other chamber; I'll show you," Peter Gross answered. He sprang
+out of his cell like a colt from the barrier and led the way on the
+double-quick to the cell that had housed him and Paddy for two days.
+Carver and he lifted the bar together and forced the door. The cell was
+empty.
+
+It took a full minute for the resident to comprehend this fact. He
+stared dazedly at every inch of the floor and wall, exploring bare
+corners with an eager eye, as though Paddy might be hiding in some nook
+or cranny. But the tenantless condition of the chamber was indisputable.
+
+A half-sob broke in Peter Gross's throat. It was the first emotion he
+had given way to.
+
+"They've taken him away," he said in a low, strained voice.
+
+"Search the temple!" Carver shouted in a stentorian voice to several of
+his command. "Get Jahi to help; he probably knows this place."
+
+"Jahi's here?" Peter Gross exclaimed incredulously.
+
+"He and a hundred hillmen," Carver replied crisply. "Now to comb this
+pile."
+
+The tribesmen scattered to search the ruin. It was not extensive. In the
+meantime Peter Gross briefly sketched the happenings of the past few
+days to Carver. At the mention of Van Slyck the captain's face became
+livid.
+
+"The damn' skunk said he was going to Padang," he exclaimed. "He left
+Banning in charge. I hope to God he stays away."
+
+One of Jahi's hillmen reported that no trace of Rouse could be found.
+"Him no here; him in bush," he said.
+
+"The Chinks have gone back to their proas; the trail heads that way,"
+Carver said. "Some of Jahi's boys picked it up before we found you. But
+what the deuce do they want with Rouse, if they haven't killed him?"
+
+"He's alive," Peter Gross declared confidently, although his own heart
+was heavy with misgiving. "We've got to rescue him."
+
+"They've got at least five hours the start of us," Carver remarked. "How
+far are we from the seacoast?"
+
+Peter Gross's reply was as militarily curt as the captain's question.
+
+"About two hours' march."
+
+"They're probably at sea. We'll take a chance, though." He glanced
+upward at the sound of a footfall. "Ah, here's Jahi."
+
+Peter Gross turned to the chieftain who had so promptly lived up to his
+oath of brotherhood. Warm with gratitude, he longed to crush the Dyak's
+hand within his own, but restrained himself, knowing how the Borneans
+despised display of emotion. Instead he greeted the chief formally,
+rubbing noses according to the custom of the country.
+
+No word of thanks crossed his lips, for he realized that Jahi would be
+offended if he spoke. Such a service was due from brother to brother,
+according to the Dyak code.
+
+"Rajah, can we catch those China boys before they reach their proas?"
+Carver asked.
+
+"No can catch," Jahi replied.
+
+"Can we catch them before they sail?"
+
+"No can say."
+
+"How far is it?"
+
+They were standing near a lone column of stone that threw a short shadow
+toward them. Jahi touched the pavement with his spear at a point about
+six inches beyond the end of the shadow.
+
+"When there shall have reached by so far the finger of the sun," he
+declared.
+
+Both Carver and Peter Gross understood that he was designating how much
+longer the shadow must grow.
+
+"About two hours, as you said," Carver remarked to his chief. "We'd
+better start at once."
+
+Jahi bowed to indicate that he had understood. He took some soiled
+sheets of China rice paper from his chawat.
+
+"Here are skins that talk, _mynheer kapitein_," he said respectfully.
+"Dyak boy find him in China boy kampong."
+
+Carver thrust them into his pocket without looking at them and blew his
+whistle. A few minutes later they began the march to the sea.
+
+While they were speeding through a leafy tunnel with Jahi's Dyaks
+covering the front and rear to guard against surprise, Carver found
+opportunity to explain to Peter Gross how he had been able to make the
+rescue. Koyala had learned Ah Sing's plans from a native source and had
+hastened to Jahi, who was watching the borders of his range to guard
+against a surprise attack by Lkath. Jahi, on Koyala's advice, had made a
+forced march to within ten miles of Bulungan, where Carver, summoned by
+Koyala, had joined him. Starting at midnight, they had made an
+eight-hour march to the temple.
+
+"Koyala again," Peter Gross remarked. "She has been our good angel all
+the way."
+
+Carver was silent. The resident looked at him curiously.
+
+"I am surprised that you believed her so readily," he said. They jogged
+along some distance before the captain replied.
+
+"I believed her. But I don't believe in her," he said.
+
+"Something's happened since to cause you to lose confidence in her?"
+Peter Gross asked quickly.
+
+"No, nothing specific. Only Muller and his _controlleurs_ are having the
+devil's own time getting the census. Many of the chiefs won't even let
+them enter their villages. Somebody has been stirring them up. And there
+have been raids--"
+
+"So you assume it's Koyala?" Peter Gross demanded harshly.
+
+Carver evaded a reply. "I got a report that the priests are preaching a
+holy war among the Malay and Dyak Mohammedans."
+
+"That is bad, bad," Peter Gross observed, frowning thoughtfully. "We
+must find out who is at the bottom of this."
+
+"The Argus Pheasant isn't flying around the country for nothing," Carver
+suggested, but stopped abruptly as he saw the flash of anger that
+crossed his superior's face.
+
+"Every success we have had is due to her," Peter Gross asserted sharply.
+"She saved my life three times."
+
+Carver hazarded one more effort.
+
+"Granted. For some reason we don't know she thinks it's to her interest
+to keep you alive--for the present. But she has an object. I can't make
+it out yet, but I'm going to--" The captain's lips closed resolutely.
+
+"You condemned her before you saw her because she has Dyak blood," Peter
+Gross accused. "It isn't fair."
+
+"I'd like her a lot more if she wasn't so confounded friendly," Carver
+replied dryly.
+
+Peter Gross did not answer, and by tacit consent the subject was
+dropped.
+
+Captain Carver was looking at his watch--the two hours were more than
+up--when Jahi, who had been in the van, stole back and lifted his hand
+in signal for silence.
+
+"_Orang blanda_ here stay, Dyak boy smell kampong," he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+THE FIGHT ON THE BEACH
+
+
+Carver gave a low-voiced command to halt, and enjoined his men to see to
+their weapons. As he ran his eyes over his company and saw their dogged
+jaws and alert, watchful faces, devoid of any trace of nervousness and
+excitability, his face lit with a quiet satisfaction. These men would
+fight--they were veterans who knew how to fight, and they had a motive;
+Paddy was a universal favorite.
+
+A Dyak plunged through the bush toward Jahi and jabbered excitedly. Jahi
+cried:
+
+"China boy, him go proa, three-four sampan."
+
+"Lead the way," Carver cried. Peter Gross translated.
+
+"Double time," the captain shouted, as Jahi and his tribesmen plunged
+through the bush at a pace too swift for even Peter Gross.
+
+In less than three minutes they reached the edge of the jungle, back
+about fifty yards from the coral beach. Four hundred yards from shore a
+proa was being loaded from several large sampans. Some distance out to
+sea, near the horizon, was another proa.
+
+A sharp command from Carver kept his men from rushing out on the beach
+in their ardor. In a moment or two every rifle in the company was
+covering the sampans. But there were sharp eyes and ears on board the
+proa as well as on shore, and a cry of alarm was given from the deck.
+The Chinese in the sampans leaped upward. At the same moment Carver gave
+the command to fire.
+
+Fully twenty Chinamen on the two sampans floating on the leeward side of
+the proa made the leap to her deck, and of these eleven fell back, so
+deadly was the fire. Only two of them dropped into the boats, the others
+falling into the sea. Equipped with the latest type of magazine rifle,
+Carver's irregulars continued pumping lead into the proa. Several
+Chinamen thrust rifles over the rail and attempted a reply, but when one
+dropped back with a bullet through his forehead and another with a
+creased skull, they desisted and took refuge behind the ship's
+steel-jacketed rail. Perceiving that the proa was armored against
+rifle-fire, Carver ordered all but six of his command to cease firing,
+the six making things sufficiently hot to keep the pirates from
+replying.
+
+The sampans were sinking. Built of skins placed around a bamboo frame,
+they had been badly cut by the first discharge. As one of them lowered
+to the gunwale, those on shore could see a wounded Chinaman, scarce able
+to crawl, beg his companions to throw him a rope. A coil of hemp shot
+over the deck of the vessel. The pirate reached for it, but at that
+moment the sampan went down and left him swirling in the water. A
+dorsal fin cut the surface close by, there was a little flurry, and the
+pirate disappeared.
+
+Peter Gross made his way through the bush toward Carver. The latter was
+watching the proa with an anxious frown.
+
+"They've got a steel jacket on her," he declared in answer to the
+resident's question. "So long as they don't show themselves we can't
+touch them. We couldn't go out to them in sampans if we had them; they'd
+sink us."
+
+"Concentrate your fire on the water-line," Peter Gross suggested. "The
+armor doesn't probably reach very low, and some of these proas are
+poorly built."
+
+"A good idea!" Carver bellowed the order.
+
+The fire was concentrated at the stern, where the ship rode highest.
+That those on board became instantly aware of the maneuver was evident
+from the fact that a pirate, hideously attired with a belt of human
+hands, leaned over the bow to slash at the hempen cable with his kris.
+He gave two cuts when he straightened spasmodically and tumbled headlong
+into the sea. He did not appear above the surface again.
+
+"_Een_," John Vander Esse, a member of the crew, murmured happily,
+refilling his magazine. "Now for _nummer twee_." (Number two.)
+
+But the kris had been whetted to a keen edge. A gust of wind filled the
+proa's cumbersome triangular sail and drove her forward. The weakened
+cable snapped. The ship lunged and half rolled into the trough of the
+waves; then the steersmen, sheltered in their box, gained control and
+swung it about.
+
+"Gif heem all you got," Anderson, a big Scandinavian and particularly
+fond of Rouse, yelled. The concentrated fire of the twenty-five rifles,
+emptied, refilled, and emptied as fast as human hands could perform
+these operations, centered on the stern of the ship. Even sturdy teak
+could not resist that battering. The proa had not gone a hundred yards
+before it was seen that the stern was settling. Suddenly it came about
+and headed for the shore.
+
+There was a shrill yell from Jahi's Dyaks. Carver shouted a hoarse order
+to Jahi, who dashed away with his hillmen to the point where the ship
+was about to ground. The rifle-fire kept on undiminished while Carver
+led his men in short dashes along the edge of the bush to the same spot.
+The proa was nearing the beach when a white flag was hoisted on her
+deck. Carver instantly gave the order to cease firing, but kept his men
+hidden. The proa lunged on. A hundred feet from the shore it struck on a
+shelf of coral. The sound of tearing planking was distinctly audible
+above the roar of the waves. The water about the ship seemed to be
+fairly alive with fins.
+
+"We will accept their surrender," Peter Gross said to Carver. "I shall
+tell them to send a boat ashore." He stepped forward.
+
+"Don't expose yourself, Mr. Gross," Carver cried anxiously. Peter Gross
+stepped into the shelter of a cocoanut-palm and shouted the Malay for
+"Ahoy."
+
+A Chinaman appeared at the bow. His dress and trappings showed that he
+was a _juragan_.
+
+"Lower a boat and come ashore. But leave your guns behind," Peter Gross
+ordered.
+
+The _juragan_ cried that there was no boat aboard. Peter Gross conferred
+with Jahi who had hastened toward them to find out what the conference
+meant. When the resident told him that there was to be no more killing,
+his disappointment was evident.
+
+"They have killed my people without mercy," he objected. "They will cut
+my brother's throat to-morrow and hang his skull in their lodges."
+
+It was necessary to use diplomacy to avoid mortally offending his ally,
+the resident saw.
+
+"It was not the white man's way to kill when the fight is over," he
+said. "Moreover, we will hold them as hostages for our son, whom Djath
+has blessed."
+
+Jahi nodded dubiously. "My brother's word is good," he said. "There is a
+creek near by. Maybe my boys find him sampan."
+
+"Go, my brother," Peter Gross directed. "Come back as soon as possible."
+
+Jahi vanished into the bush. A half-hour later Peter Gross made out a
+small sampan, paddled by two Dyaks, approaching from the south. That the
+Dyaks were none too confident was apparent from the anxious glances that
+they shot at the proa, which was already beginning to show signs of
+breaking up.
+
+Peter Gross shouted again to the _juragan_, and instructed him that
+every man leaving the proa must stand on the rail, in full sight of
+those on shore, and show that he was weaponless before descending into
+the sampan. The _juragan_ consented.
+
+It required five trips to the doomed ship before all on board were taken
+off. There were thirty-seven in all--eleven sailors and the rest
+off-scourings of the Java and Celebes seas, whose only vocation was
+cutting throats. They glared at their captors like tigers; it was more
+than evident that practically all of them except the _juragan_ fully
+expected to meet the same fate that they meted out to every one who fell
+into their hands, and were prepared to sell their lives as dearly as
+possible.
+
+"A nasty crew," Carver remarked to Peter Gross as the pirates were
+herded on the beach under the rifles of his company. "Every man's
+expecting to be handed the same dose as he's handed some poor devil. I
+wonder why they didn't sink with their ship?"
+
+Peter Gross did not stop to explain, although he knew the reason
+why--the Mohammedan's horror of having his corpse pass into the belly of
+a shark.
+
+"We've got to tie them up and make a chain-gang of them," Carver said
+thoughtfully. "I wouldn't dare go through the jungle with that crew any
+other way."
+
+Peter Gross was looking at Jahi, in earnest conversation with several of
+his tribesmen. He perceived that the hill chief had all he could do to
+restrain his people from falling on the pirates, long their oppressors.
+
+"I will speak to them," he announced quietly. He stepped forward.
+
+"Servants of Ah Sing," he shouted in an authoritative tone. All eyes
+were instantly focused on him.
+
+"Servants of Ah Sing," he repeated, "the fortunes of war have this day
+made you my captives. You must go with me to Bulungan. If you will not
+go, you shall die here."
+
+A simultaneous movement affected the pirates. They clustered more
+closely together, fiercely defiant, and stared with the fatalistic
+indifference of Oriental peoples into the barrels of the rifles aimed at
+them.
+
+"You've all heard of me," Peter Gross resumed. "You know that the voice
+of Peter Gross speaks truth, that lies do not come from his mouth." He
+glanced at a Chinaman on the outskirts of the crowd. "Speak, Wong Ling
+Lo, you sailed with me on the _Daisy Deane_, is it not so?"
+
+Wong Ling Lo was now the center of attention. Each of the pirates
+awaited his reply with breathless expectancy. Peter Gross's calm
+assurance, his candor and simplicity, were already stirring in them a
+hope that in other moments they would have deemed utterly fantastic,
+contrary to all nature--a hope that this white man might be different
+from other men, might possess that attribute so utterly incomprehensible
+to their dark minds--mercy.
+
+"Peter Gross, him no lie," was Wong Ling Lo's unemotional admission.
+
+"You have heard what Wong Ling Lo says," Peter Gross cried. "Now, listen
+to what I say. You shall go back with me to Bulungan; alive, if you are
+willing; dead, if you are not. At Bulungan each one of you shall have a
+fair trial. Every man who can prove that his hand has not taken life
+shall be sentenced to three years on the coffee-plantations for his
+robberies, then he shall be set free and provided with a farm of his own
+to till so that he may redeem himself. Every man who has taken human
+life in the service of Ah Sing shall die."
+
+He paused to see the effect of his announcement. The owlish faces turned
+toward him were wholly enigmatic, but the intensity of each man's gaze
+revealed to Peter Gross the measure of their interest.
+
+"I cannot take you along the trail without binding you," he said. "Your
+oaths are worthless; I must use the power I have over you. Therefore you
+will now remember the promise I have made you, and submit yourselves to
+be bound. _Juragan_, you are the first."
+
+As one of Carver's force came forward with cords salvaged from the proa,
+the _juragan_ met him, placed his hands behind his back, and suffered
+them to be tied together. The next man hesitated, then submitted also,
+casting anxious glances at his companions. The third submitted promptly.
+The fourth folded his hands across his chest.
+
+"I remain here," he announced.
+
+"Very well," Peter Gross said impassively. He forced several Chinamen
+who were near to move back. They gave ground sullenly. At Carver's
+orders a firing-squad of three men stood in front of the Chinaman, whose
+back was toward the bay.
+
+"Will you go with us?" Peter Gross asked again.
+
+The Chinaman's face was a ghostly gray, but very firm.
+
+"Allah wills I stay here," he replied. His lips curled with a calm
+contemptuousness at the white man's inability to rob him of the place in
+heaven that he believed his murders had made for him. With that smile on
+his lips he died.
+
+A sudden silence came upon the crowd. Even Jahi's Dyaks, scarcely
+restrained by their powerful chief before this, ceased their mutterings
+and looked with new respect on the big _orang blanda_ resident. There
+were no more refusals among the Chinese. On instructions from Peter
+Gross four of them were left unbound to carry the body of their dead
+comrade to Bulungan. "Alive or dead," he had said. So it would be all
+understood.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+"TO HALF OF MY KINGDOM--"
+
+
+Captain Carver selected a cigar from Peter Gross's humidor and reclined
+in the most comfortable chair in the room.
+
+"A beastly hot day," he announced, wiping the perspiration from his
+forehead. "Regular Manila weather."
+
+"The monsoon failed us again to-day," Peter Gross observed.
+
+Carver dropped the topic abruptly. "I dropped over," he announced, "to
+see if the _juragan_ talked any."
+
+Peter Gross glanced out of the window toward the jungle-crowned hills.
+The lines of his mouth were very firm.
+
+"He told me a great deal," he admitted.
+
+"About Paddy?" There was an anxious ring in Carver's voice.
+
+"About Paddy--and other things."
+
+"The lad's come to no harm?"
+
+"He is aboard Ah Sing's proa, the proa we saw standing out to sea when
+we reached the beach. He is safe--for the present at least. He will be
+useful to Ah Sing, the natives reverence him so highly."
+
+"Thank God!" Carver ejaculated in a relieved voice. "We'll get him
+back. It may take time, but we'll get him."
+
+Peter Gross made no reply. He was staring steadfastly at the hills
+again.
+
+"Odd he didn't take you, too," Carver remarked.
+
+"The _juragan_ told me that he intended to come back with a portion of
+his crew for me later," Peter Gross said. "They ran short of provisions,
+so they had to go back to the proas, and they took Paddy with them. Some
+one warned them you were on the march with Jahi, so they fled. Tsang
+Che, the _juragan_, says his crew was slow in taking on fresh water;
+that is how we were able to surprise him."
+
+"That explains it," Carver remarked. "I couldn't account for their
+leaving you behind."
+
+Peter Gross lapsed into silence again.
+
+"Did you get anything else from him, any real evidence?" Carver
+suggested presently.
+
+The resident roused himself with an effort.
+
+"A great deal. Even more than I like to believe."
+
+"He turned state's evidence?"
+
+"You might call it that."
+
+"You got enough to clear up this mess?"
+
+"No," Peter Gross replied slowly. "I would not say that. What he told me
+deals largely with past events, things that happened before I came here.
+It is the present with which we have to deal."
+
+"I'm a little curious," Carver confessed.
+
+Peter Gross passed his hand over his eyes and leaned back.
+
+"He told me what I have always believed. Of the confederation of pirates
+with Ah Sing at their head; of the agreements they have formed with
+those in authority; of where the ships have gone that have been reported
+missing from time to time and what became of their cargoes; of how my
+predecessor died. He made a very full and complete statement. I have it
+here, written in Dutch, and signed by him." Peter Gross tapped a drawer
+in his desk.
+
+"It compromises Van Slyck?"
+
+"He is a murderer."
+
+"Of de Jonge--your predecessor?"
+
+"It was his brain that planned."
+
+"Muller?"
+
+"A slaver and embezzler."
+
+"You're going to arrest them?" Carver scanned his superior's face
+eagerly.
+
+"Not yet," Peter Gross dissented quietly. "We have only the word of a
+pirate so far. And it covers many things that happened before we came
+here."
+
+"We're waiting too long," Carver asserted dubiously. "We've been lucky
+so far; but luck will turn."
+
+"We are getting the situation in hand better every day. They will strike
+soon, their patience is ebbing fast; and we will have the _Prins_ with
+us in a week."
+
+"The blow may fall before then."
+
+"We must be prepared. It would be folly for us to strike now. We have no
+proof except this confession, and Van Slyck has powerful friends at
+home."
+
+"That reminds me," Carver exclaimed. "Maybe these documents will
+interest you. They are the papers Jahi found on your jailers. They seem
+to be a set of accounts, but they're Dutch to me." He offered the papers
+to Peter Gross, who unfolded them and began to read.
+
+"Are they worth anything?" Carver asked presently, as the resident
+carefully filed them in the same drawer in which he had placed Tsang
+Che's statement.
+
+"They are Ah Sing's memoranda. They tell of the disposition of several
+cargoes of ships that have been reported lost recently. There are no
+names but symbols. It may prove valuable some day."
+
+"What are your plans?"
+
+"I don't know. I must talk with Koyala before I decide. She is coming
+this afternoon."
+
+Peter Gross glanced out of doors at that moment and his face brightened.
+"Here she comes now," he said.
+
+Carver rose. "I think I'll be going," he declared gruffly.
+
+"Stay, captain, by all means."
+
+Carver shook his head. He was frowning and he cast an anxious glance at
+the resident.
+
+"No; I don't trust her. I'd be in the way, anyway." He glanced swiftly
+at the resident to see the effect of his words. Peter Gross was looking
+down the lane along which Koyala was approaching. A necklace of flowers
+encircled her throat and bracelets of blossoms hung on her
+arms--gardenia, tuberose, hill daisies, and the scarlet bloom of the
+flame-of-the-forest tree. Her hat was of woven nipa palm-leaves,
+intricately fashioned together. Altogether she was a most alluring
+picture.
+
+When Peter Gross looked up Carver was gone. Koyala entered with the
+familiarity of an intimate friend.
+
+"What is this I hear?" Peter Gross asked with mock severity. "You have
+been saving me from my enemies again."
+
+Koyala's smile was neither assent nor denial.
+
+"This is getting to be a really serious situation for me," he chaffed.
+"I am finding myself more hopelessly in your debt every day."
+
+Koyala glanced at him swiftly, searchingly. His frankly ingenuous,
+almost boyish smile evoked a whimsical response from her.
+
+"What are you going to do when I present my claim?" she demanded.
+
+Peter Gross spread out his palms in mock dismay. "Go into bankruptcy,"
+he replied. "It's the only thing left for me to do."
+
+"My bill will stagger you," she warned.
+
+"You know the Persian's answer, 'All that I have to the half of my
+kingdom,'" he jested.
+
+"I might ask more," Koyala ventured daringly.
+
+Peter Gross's face sobered. Koyala saw that, for some reason, her reply
+did not please him. A strange light glowed momentarily in her eyes.
+Instantly controlling herself, she said in carefully modulated tones:
+
+"You sent for me, _mynheer_?"
+
+"I did," Peter Gross admitted. "I must ask another favor of you,
+Koyala." The mirth was gone from his voice also.
+
+"What is it?" she asked quietly.
+
+"You know whom we have lost," Peter Gross said, plunging directly into
+the subject. "Ah Sing carried him away. His uncle, the boy's only living
+relative, is an old sea captain under whom I served for some time and a
+very dear friend. I promised him I would care for the lad. I must bring
+the boy back. You alone can help me."
+
+The burning intensity of Koyala's eyes moved even Peter Gross, unskilled
+as he was in the art of reading a woman's heart through her eyes. He
+felt vaguely uncomfortable, vaguely felt a peril he could not see or
+understand.
+
+"What will be my reward if I bring him back to you?" Koyala asked. Her
+tone was almost flippant.
+
+"You shall have whatever lies in my power as resident to give," Peter
+Gross promised gravely.
+
+Koyala laughed. There was a strange, jarring note in her voice.
+
+"I accept your offer, Mynheer Resident," she said. "But you should not
+have added those two words, 'as resident.'"
+
+Rising like a startled pheasant, she glided out of the door and across
+the plain. Peter Gross stared after her until she had disappeared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+A WOMAN SCORNED
+
+
+It was Inchi who brought the news of Paddy's return. Three days after
+Koyala's departure the little Dyak lad burst breathlessly upon a
+colloquy between Peter Gross and Captain Carver and announced excitedly:
+
+"Him, Djath boy, him, _orang blanda_ Djath boy, him come."
+
+"What the devil is he driving at?" Carver growled. The circumlocution of
+the south-sea islander was a perennial mystery to him.
+
+"Paddy is coming," Peter Gross cried. "Now get your breath, Inchi, and
+tell us where he is."
+
+His scant vocabulary exhausted, Inchi broke into a torrent of Dyak. By
+requiring the lad to repeat several times, Peter Gross finally
+understood his message.
+
+"Paddy, Koyala, and some of Koyala's Dyaks are coming along the mountain
+trail," he announced. "They will be here in an hour. She sent a runner
+ahead to let us know, but the runner twisted an ankle. Inchi found him
+and got the message."
+
+There was a wild cheer as Paddy, dusty and matted with perspiration,
+several Dyaks, and Koyala emerged from the banyan-grove and crossed the
+plain. Discipline was forgotten as the entire command crowded around
+the lad.
+
+"I shot two Chinamans for you," Vander Esse announced. "An' now daat vas
+all unnecessary."
+
+"Ye can't keep a rid-head bottled up," Larry Malone, another member of
+the company, shouted exultingly.
+
+"Aye ban tank we joost get it nice quiet van you come back again,"
+Anderson remarked in mock melancholy. The others hooted him down.
+
+Koyala stood apart from the crowd with her Dyaks and looked on. Glancing
+upward, Peter Gross noticed her, noticed, too, the childishly wistful
+look upon her face. He instantly guessed the reason--she felt herself
+apart from these people of his, unable to share their intimacy. Remorse
+smote him. She, to whom all their success was due, and who now rendered
+this crowning service, deserved better treatment. He hastened toward
+her.
+
+"Koyala," he said, his voice vibrant with the gratitude he felt, "how
+can we repay you?"
+
+Koyala made a weary gesture of dissent.
+
+"Let us not speak of that now, _mynheer_," she said.
+
+"But come to my home," he said. "We must have luncheon together--you and
+Captain Carver and Paddy and I." With a quick afterthought he added: "I
+will invite Mynheer Muller also."
+
+The momentary gleam of pleasure that had lit Koyala's face at the
+invitation died at the mention of Muller's name.
+
+"I am sorry," she said, but there was no regret in her voice. "I must
+go back to my people, to Djath's temple and the priests. It is a long
+journey; I must start at once."
+
+"You cannot leave us now!" Peter Gross exclaimed in consternation.
+
+"For the present I must," she said resignedly. "Perhaps when the moon is
+once more in the full, I shall come back to see what you have done."
+
+"But we cannot do without you!"
+
+"Is a woman so necessary?" she asked, and smiled sadly.
+
+"You are necessary to Bulungan's peace," Peter Gross affirmed. "Without
+you we can have no peace."
+
+"If you need me, send one of my people," she said. "I will leave him
+here with you. He will know where to find me."
+
+"But that may be too late," Peter Gross objected. His tone became very
+grave. "The crisis is almost upon us," he declared. "Ah Sing will make
+the supreme test soon--how soon I cannot say--but I do not think he will
+let very many days pass by. He is not accustomed to being thwarted. I
+shall need you here at my right hand to advise me."
+
+Koyala looked at him searchingly. The earnestness of his plea, the
+troubled look in his straight-forward, gray eyes fixed so pleadingly
+upon her, seemed to impress her.
+
+"There is a little arbor in the banyan-grove yonder where we can talk
+undisturbed," she said in a voice of quiet authority. "Come with me."
+
+"We can use my office," Peter Gross offered, but Koyala shook her head.
+
+"I must be on my journey. I will see you in the grove."
+
+Peter Gross walked beside her. He found difficulty in keeping the pace
+she set; she glided along like a winged thing. Koyala led him directly
+to the clearing and reclined with a sigh of utter weariness in the shade
+of a stunted nipa palm.
+
+"It has been a long journey," she said with a wan smile. "I am very
+tired."
+
+"Forgive me," Peter Gross exclaimed in contrition. "I should not have
+let you go. You must come back with me to the residency and rest until
+to-morrow."
+
+"A half-hour's rest will be all I need," Koyala replied.
+
+"But this is no place for you," Peter Gross expostulated.
+
+"The jungle is my home," Koyala said with simple pride. "The Argus
+Pheasant nests in the thickets."
+
+"Surely not at night?"
+
+"What is there to harm me?" Koyala smiled wearily at his alarm.
+
+"But the wild beasts, the tigers, and the leopards, and the orang-utans
+in the hill districts, and the snakes?"
+
+"They are all my friends. When the tiger calls, I answer. If he is
+hungry, I keep away. I know all the sounds of the jungle; my
+grandfather, Chawatangi, taught them to me. I know the warning hiss of
+the snake as he glides through the grasses, I know the timid hoofbeat of
+the antelope, I know the stealthy rustle of the wild hogs. They and the
+jackals are the only animals I cannot trust."
+
+"But where do you sleep?"
+
+"If the night is dark and there is no moon, I cut a bundle of bamboo
+canes. I bind these with creepers to make a platform and hang it in a
+tree. Then I swing between heaven and earth as securely or more
+securely, than you do in your house, for I am safe from the malice of
+men. If it rains I make a shelter of palm-leaves on a bamboo frame.
+These things one learns quickly in the forest."
+
+"You wonderful woman!" Peter Gross breathed in admiration.
+
+Koyala smiled. She lay stretched out her full length on the ground.
+Peter Gross squatted beside her.
+
+"You haven't told me where you found Paddy?" he remarked after a pause.
+
+"Oh, that was easy," she said. "Ah Sing has a station a little way this
+side of the Sadong country--"
+
+Peter Gross nodded.
+
+"I knew that he would go there. So I followed. When I got there Ah Sing
+was loading his proa with stores. I learned that your boy was a prisoner
+in one of the houses of his people. I went to Ah Sing and begged his
+life. I told him he was sacred to Djath, that the Dyaks of Bulungan
+thought him very holy indeed. Ah Sing was very angry. He stormed about
+the loss of his proa and refused to listen to me. He said he would hold
+the boy as a hostage.
+
+"That night I went to the hut and found one of my people on guard. He
+let me in. I cut the cords that bound the boy, dyed his face brown and
+gave him a woman's dress. I told him to wait for me in the forest until
+he heard my cry. The guard thought it was me when he left."
+
+Her voice drooped pathetically.
+
+"They brought me to Ah Sing. He was very angry, he would have killed me,
+I think, if he had dared. He struck me--see, here is the mark." She drew
+back the sleeve of her kabaya and revealed a cut in the skin with blue
+bruises about it. Peter Gross became very white and his teeth closed
+together tightly.
+
+"That is all," she concluded.
+
+There was a long silence. Koyala covertly studied the resident's
+profile, so boyish, yet so masterfully stern, as he gazed into the
+forest depths. She could guess his thoughts, and she half-smiled.
+
+"When you left, I promised you that you should have a reward--anything
+that you might name and in my power as resident to give," Peter Gross
+said presently.
+
+"Let us not speak of that--yet," Koyala dissented. "Tell me, Mynheer
+Gross, do you love my country?"
+
+"It is a wonderfully beautiful country," Peter Gross replied
+enthusiastically, falling in with her mood. "A country of infinite
+possibilities. We can make it the garden spot of the world. Never have I
+seen such fertile soil as there is in the river bottom below us. All it
+needs is time and labor--and men with vision."
+
+Koyala rose to a sitting posture and leaned on one hand. With deft
+motion of the other she made an ineffectual effort to cover her
+nut-brown limbs, cuddled among the ferns and grasses, with the shortened
+kabaya. Very nymphlike she looked, a Diana of the jungle, and it was
+small wonder that Peter Gross, the indifferent to woman, gave her his
+serious attention while she glanced pensively down the forest aisles.
+
+"Men with vision!" she sighed presently. "That is what we have always
+needed. That is what we have always lacked. My unhappy people! Ignorant,
+and none to teach them, none to guide them into the better way. Leaders
+have come, have stayed a little while, and then they have gone again.
+Brooke helped us in Sarawak--now only his memory is left." A pause. "I
+suppose you will be going back to Java soon again, _mynheer_?"
+
+"Not until my work is completed," Peter Gross assured gravely.
+
+"But that will be soon. You will crush your enemies. You will organize
+the districts and lighten our burdens for a while. Then you will go. A
+new resident will come. Things will slip back into the old rut. Our
+young men are hot-headed, there will be feuds, wars, piracy. There are
+turns in the wheel, but no progress for us, _mynheer_. Borneo!" Her
+voice broke with a sob, and she stole a covert glance at him.
+
+"By heaven, I swear that will not happen, Koyala," Peter Gross asserted
+vehemently. "I shall not go away, I shall stay here. The governor owes
+me some reward, the least he can give me is to let me finish the work I
+have begun. I shall dedicate my life to Bulungan--we, Koyala, shall
+redeem her, we two."
+
+Koyala shook her head. Her big, sorrowful eyes gleamed on him for a
+moment through tears.
+
+"So you speak to-day when you are full of enthusiasm, _mynheer_. But
+when one or two years have passed, and you hear naught but the unending
+tales of tribal jealousies, and quarrels over buffaloes, and complaints
+about the tax, and falsehood upon falsehood, then your ambition will
+fade and you will seek a place to rest, far from Borneo."
+
+The gentle sadness of her tear-dimmed eyes, the melancholy cadences of
+her voice sighing tribulation like an October wind among the maples, and
+her eloquent beauty, set Peter Gross's pulses on fire.
+
+"Koyala," he cried, "do you think I could give up a cause like
+this--forget the work we have done together--to spend my days on a
+plantation in Java like a buffalo in his wallow?"
+
+"You would soon forget Borneo in Java, _mynheer_--and me."
+
+The sweet melancholy of her plaintive smile drove Peter Gross to
+madness.
+
+"Forget you? You, Koyala? My right hand, my savior, savior thrice over,
+to whom I owe every success I have had, without whom I would have failed
+utterly, died miserably in Wobanguli's hall? You wonderful woman! You
+lovely, adorable woman!"
+
+Snatching her hands in his, he stared at her with a fierce hunger that
+was half passion, half gratitude.
+
+A gleam of savage exultation flashed in Koyala's eyes. The resident was
+hers. The fierce, insatiate craving for this moment, that had filled her
+heart ever since she first saw Peter Gross until it tainted every drop
+of blood, now raced through her veins like vitriol. She lowered her lids
+lest he read her eyes, and bit her tongue to choke utterance. Still his
+grasp on her hands did not relax. At last she asked in a low voice, that
+sounded strange and harsh even to her:
+
+"Why do you hold me, _mynheer_?"
+
+The madness of the moment was still on Peter. He opened his lips to
+speak words that flowed to them without conscious thought, phrases as
+utterly foreign to his vocabulary as metaphysics to a Hottentot. Then
+reason resumed her throne. Breathing heavily, he released her.
+
+"Forgive me, Koyala," he said humbly.
+
+A chill of disappointment, like an arctic wave, submerged Koyala. She
+felt the sensation of having what was dearest in life suddenly snatched
+from her. Her stupefaction lasted but an instant. Then the fury that
+goads a woman scorned possessed her and lashed on the blood-hounds of
+vengeance.
+
+"Forgive you?" she spat venomously. "Forgive you for what? The words you
+did not say, just now, _orang blanda_, when you held these two hands?"
+
+Peter Gross had risen quickly and she also sprang to her feet. Her face,
+furious with rage, was lifted toward his, and her two clenched fists
+were held above her fluttering bosom. Passion made her almost
+inarticulate.
+
+"Forgive you for cozening me with sweet words of _our_ work, and _our_
+mission when you despised me for the blood of my mother that is in me?
+Forgive you for leading me around like a pet parrot to say your words to
+my people and delude them? Forgive you for the ignominy you have heaped
+upon me, the shame you have brought to me, the loss of friendships and
+the laughter of my enemies?"
+
+"Koyala--" Peter Gross attempted, but he might as well have tried to
+stop Niagara.
+
+"Are these the things you seek forgiveness for?" Koyala shrieked. "Liar!
+Seducer! _Orang blanda!_"
+
+She spat the word as though it were something vile. At that moment there
+was a rustling in the cane back of Peter Gross. Bewildered, contrite,
+striving to collect his scattered wits that he might calm the tempest of
+her wrath, he did not hear it. But Koyala did. There was a savage
+exultation in her voice as she cried:
+
+"To-morrow the last white will be swept from Bulungan. But you will stay
+here, _mynheer_--"
+
+Hearing the footsteps behind him, Peter Gross whirled on his heel. But
+he turned too late. A bag was thrust over his head. He tried to tear it
+away, but clinging arms, arms as strong as his, held it tightly about
+him. A heavy vapor ascended into his nostrils, a vapor warm with the
+perfume of burning sandalwood and aromatic unguents and spices. He felt
+a drowsiness come upon him, struggled to cast it off, and yielded. With
+a sigh like a tired child's he sagged into the waiting arms and was
+lowered to the ground.
+
+"Very good, Mynheer Muller," Koyala said. "Now, if you and Cho Seng will
+bind his legs I will call my Dyaks and have him carried to the house we
+have prepared for him."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+THE ATTACK ON THE FORT
+
+
+When Peter Gross failed to return by noon that day Captain Carver,
+becoming alarmed, began making inquiries. Hughes supplied the first
+clue.
+
+"I saw him go into the bush with the heathen woman while we was buzzin'
+Paddy," he informed his commander. "I ain't seen him since."
+
+A scouting party was instantly organized. It searched the banyan grove,
+but found nothing. One, of the members, an old plainsman, reported
+heel-marks on the trail, but as this was a common walk of the troops at
+the fort the discovery had no significance.
+
+"Where is Inchi?" Captain Carver inquired. Search also failed to reveal
+the Dyak lad. As this disquieting news was reported, Lieutenant Banning
+was announced.
+
+The lieutenant, a smooth-faced, clean-cut young officer who had had his
+commission only a few years, explained the object of his visit without
+indulging in preliminaries.
+
+"One of my Java boys tells me the report is current in Bulungan that we
+are to be attacked to-morrow," he announced. "A holy war has been
+preached, and all the sea Dyaks and Malays in the residency are now
+marching this way, he says. The pirate fleet is expected here to-night.
+I haven't seen or heard of Captain Van Slyck since he left for Padang."
+
+He was plainly worried, and Carver correctly construed his warning as an
+appeal for advice and assistance. The captain took from his wallet the
+commission that Peter Gross had given him some time before.
+
+"Since Captain Van Slyck is absent, I may as well inform you that I take
+command of the fort by order of the resident," he said, giving the
+document to Banning. The lieutenant scanned it quickly.
+
+"Very good, captain," he remarked with a relieved air. His tone plainly
+indicated that he was glad to place responsibility in the crisis upon an
+older and more experienced commander. "I suppose you will enter the fort
+with your men?"
+
+"We shall move our stores and all our effects at once," Carver declared.
+"Are your dispositions made?"
+
+"We are always ready, captain," was the lieutenant's reply.
+
+From the roof of the residency Carver studied Bulungan town through
+field-glasses. There was an unwonted activity in the village, he
+noticed. Scanning the streets, he saw the unusual number of armed men
+hurrying about and grouped at street corners and in the market-place. At
+the water-front several small proas were hastily putting out to sea.
+
+"It looks as if Banning was right," he muttered.
+
+By sundown Carver's irregulars were stationed at the fort. Courtesy
+denominated it a fort, but in reality it was little more than a stockade
+made permanent by small towers of crude masonry, filled between with
+logs set on end. The elevation, however, gave it a commanding advantage
+in such an attack as they might expect. Peter Gross had been careful to
+supply machine-guns, and these were placed where they would do the most
+efficient service. Putting the Javanese at work, Carver hastily threw up
+around the fort a series of barbed-wire entanglements and dug
+trench-shelters inside. These operations were watched by an
+ever-increasing mob of armed natives, who kept a respectful distance
+away, however. Banning suggested a sortie in force to intimidate the
+Dyaks.
+
+"It would be time wasted," Carver declared. "We don't have to be afraid
+of this mob. They won't show teeth until the he-bear comes. We'll
+confine ourselves to getting ready--every second is precious."
+
+A searchlight was one of Carver's contributions to the defenses. Double
+sentries were posted and the light played the country about all night,
+but there was no alarm. When dawn broke Carver and Banning, up with the
+sun, uttered an almost simultaneous exclamation. A fleet of nearly
+thirty proas, laden down with fighting men, lay in the harbor.
+
+"Ah Sing has arrived," Banning remarked. Absent-mindedly he mused: "I
+wonder if Captain Van Slyck is there?"
+
+Carver had by this time mastered just enough Dutch to catch the
+lieutenant's meaning.
+
+"What do you know about Captain Van Slyck's dealings with this gang?" he
+demanded, looking at the young man fixedly.
+
+"I can't say--that is--" Banning took refuge in an embarrassed silence.
+
+"Never mind," Carver answered curtly. "I don't want you to inform
+against a superior officer. But when we get back to Batavia you'll be
+called upon to testify to what you know."
+
+Banning made no reply.
+
+Carver was at breakfast when word was brought him that Mynheer Muller,
+the _controlleur_, was at the gate and desired to see him. He had left
+orders that none should be permitted to enter or leave without special
+permission from the officer of the day. The immediate thought that
+Muller was come to propose terms of surrender occurred to him, and he
+flushed darkly. He directed that the _controlleur_ be admitted.
+
+"_Goeden-morgen, mynheer kapitein_," Muller greeted as he entered. His
+face was very pale, but he seemed to carry himself with more dignity
+than customarily, Carver noticed.
+
+"State your mission, _mynheer_," Carver directed bluntly, transfixing
+the _controlleur_ with his stern gaze.
+
+"_Mynheer kapitein_, you must fight for your lives to-day," Muller said.
+"Ah Sing is here, there are three thousand Dyaks and Malays below." His
+voice quavered, but he pulled himself together quickly. "I see you are
+prepared. Therefore what I have told you is no news to you." He paused.
+
+"Proceed," Carver directed curtly.
+
+"_Mynheer kapitein_, I am here to fight and die with you," the
+_controlleur_ announced.
+
+A momentary flash of astonishment crossed Carver's face. Then his
+suspicions were redoubled.
+
+"I hadn't expected this," he said, without mincing words. "I thought you
+would be on the other side."
+
+Muller's face reddened, but he instantly recovered. "There was a time
+when I thought so, too, _kapitein_," he admitted candidly. "But I now
+see I was in the wrong. What has been done, I cannot undo. But I can die
+with you. There is no escape for you to-day, they are too many, and too
+well armed. I have lived a Celebes islander, a robber, and a friend of
+robbers. I can at least die a white man and a Hollander."
+
+Carver looked at him fixedly.
+
+"Where is the resident?" he demanded.
+
+"In a hut, in the jungle."
+
+"In Ah Sing's hands?"
+
+"He is Koyala's prisoner. Ah Sing does not know he is there."
+
+"Um!" Carver grunted. The exclamation hid a world of meaning. It took
+little thought on his part to vision what had occurred.
+
+"Why aren't you with Koyala?" he asked crisply.
+
+Muller looked away. "She does not want me," he said in a low voice.
+
+For the first time since coming to Bulungan, Carver felt a trace of
+sympathy for Muller. He, too, had been disappointed in love. His tone
+was a trifle less gruff as he asked: "Can you handle a gun?"
+
+"_Ja, mynheer._"
+
+"You understand you'll get a bullet through the head at the first sign
+of treachery?"
+
+Muller flushed darkly. "_Ja, mynheer_," he affirmed with quiet dignity.
+It was the flush that decided Carver.
+
+"Report to Lieutenant Banning," he said. "He'll give you a rifle."
+
+It was less than an hour later that the investment of the fort began.
+The Dyaks, scurrying through the banyan groves and bamboo thickets,
+enclosed it on the rear and landward sides. Ah Sing's pirates and the
+Malays crawled up the rise to attack it from the front. Two of Ah Sing's
+proas moved up the bay to shut off escape from the sea.
+
+An insolent demand from Ah Sing and Wobanguli that they surrender
+prefaced the hostilities.
+
+"Tell the Rajah and his Chinese cut-throat that we'll have the pleasure
+of hanging them," was Carver's reply.
+
+To meet the attack, Carver entrusted the defense of the rear and
+landward walls to the Dutch and Javanese under Banning, while he looked
+after the frontal attack, which he shrewdly guessed would be the most
+severe. Taking advantage of every bush and tree, and particularly the
+hedges that lined the lane leading down to Bulungan, the Malays and
+pirates got within six hundred yards of the fort. A desultory rifle-fire
+was opened. It increased rapidly, and soon a hail of bullets began
+sweeping over the enclosure.
+
+"They've got magazine-rifles," Carver muttered to himself. "Latest
+pattern, too. That's what comes of letting traders sell promiscuously to
+natives."
+
+The defenders made a vigorous reply. The magazine-rifles were used with
+telling effect. Banning had little difficulty keeping the Dyaks back,
+but the pirates and Malays were a different race of fighters, and
+gradually crept closer in, taking advantage of every bit of cover that
+the heavily grown country afforded.
+
+As new levies of natives arrived, the fire increased in intensity. There
+were at least a thousand rifles in the attacking force, Carver judged,
+and some of the pirates soon demonstrated that they were able marksmen.
+An old plainsman was the first casualty. He was sighting along his rifle
+at a daring Manchu who had advanced within three hundred yards of the
+enclosure when a bullet struck him in the forehead and passed through
+his skull. He fell where he stood.
+
+Shortly thereafter Gibson, an ex-sailor, uttered an exclamation, and
+clapped his right hand to his left shoulder.
+
+"Are ye hit?" Larry Malone asked.
+
+"They winged me, I guess," Gibson said.
+
+The Dutch medical officer hastened forward. "The bone's broken," he
+pronounced. "We'll have to amputate."
+
+"Then let me finish this fight first," Gibson retorted, picking up his
+rifle. The doctor was a soldier, too. He tied the useless arm in a
+sling, filled Gibson's magazine, and jogged away to other duties with a
+parting witticism about Americans who didn't know when to quit. There
+was plenty of work for him to do. Within the next half hour ten men were
+brought into the improvised hospital, and Carver, on the walls, was
+tugging his chin, wondering whether he would be able to hold the day
+out.
+
+The firing began to diminish. Scanning the underbrush to see what
+significance this might have, Carver saw heavy columns of natives
+forming. The first test was upon them. At his sharp command the reply
+fire from the fort ceased and every man filled his magazine.
+
+With a wild whoop the Malays and Chinese rose from the bush and raced
+toward the stockade. There was an answering yell from the other side as
+the Dyaks, spears and krisses waving, sprang from the jungle. On the
+walls, silence. The brown wave swept like an avalanche to within three
+hundred yards. The Javanese looked anxiously at their white leader,
+standing like a statue, watching the human tide roll toward him. Two
+hundred yards--a hundred and fifty yards. The Dutch riflemen began to
+fidget. A hundred yards. An uneasy murmur ran down the whole line. Fifty
+yards.
+
+Carver gave the signal. Banning instantly repeated it. A sheet of flame
+leaped from the walls as rifles and machine-guns poured their deadly
+torrents of lead into the advancing horde. The first line melted away
+like butter before a fire. Their wild yells of triumph changed to
+frantic shrieks of panic, the Dyaks broke and fled for the protecting
+cover of the jungle while the guns behind them decimated their ranks.
+The Malays and Chinese got within ten yards of the fort before they
+succumbed to the awful fusillade, and fled and crawled back to shelter.
+A mustached Manchu alone reached the gate. He waved his huge kris, but
+at that moment one of Carver's company emptied a rifle into his chest
+and he fell at the very base of the wall.
+
+The attack was begun, checked, and ended within four minutes. Over two
+hundred dead and wounded natives and Chinese lay scattered about the
+plain. The loss within the fort had been four killed and five wounded.
+Two of the dead were from Carver's command, John Vander Esse and a
+Californian. As he counted his casualties, Carver's lips tightened. His
+thoughts were remarkably similar to that of the great Epirot: "Another
+such victory and I am undone."
+
+Lieutenant Banning, mopping his brow, stepped forward to felicitate his
+commanding officer.
+
+"They'll leave us alone for to-day, anyway," he predicted.
+
+Carver stroked his chin in silence a moment.
+
+"I don't think Ah Sing's licked so soon," he replied.
+
+For the next three hours there was only desultory firing. The great body
+of natives seemed to have departed, leaving only a sufficient force
+behind to hold the defenders in check in case they attempted to leave
+the fort. Speculation on the next step of the natives was soon answered.
+Scanning the harbor with his glasses, Carver detected an unwonted
+activity on the deck of one of the proas. He watched it closely for a
+few moments, then he uttered an exclamation.
+
+"They're unloading artillery," he told Lieutenant Banning.
+
+The lieutenant's lips tightened.
+
+"We have nothing except these old guns," he replied.
+
+"They're junk," Carver observed succinctly. "These proas carry Krupps,
+I'm told."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"We'll see whether they can handle it first. If they make it too hot for
+us--well, we'll die fighting."
+
+The first shell broke over the fort an hour later and exploded in the
+jungle on the other side. Twenty or thirty shells were wasted in this
+way before the gunner secured the range. His next effort landed against
+one of the masonry towers on the side defended by the Dutch. When the
+smoke had cleared away the tower lay leveled. Nine dead and wounded men
+were scattered among the ruins. A yell rose from the natives, which the
+remaining Dutch promptly answered with a stinging volley.
+
+"Hold your fire," Carver directed Banning. "We'd better take to the
+trenches." These had been dug the day before and deepened during the
+past hour. Carver issued the necessary commands and the defenders,
+except ten pickets, concealed themselves in their earthen shelters.
+
+The gunnery of the Chinese artilleryman improved, and gaunt breaches
+were formed in the walls. One by one the towers crumbled. Each
+well-placed shell was signalized by cheers from the Dyaks and Malays.
+The shelling finally ceased abruptly. Carver and Banning surveyed the
+scene. A ruin of fallen stones and splintered logs was all that lay
+between them and the horde of over three thousand pirates and Malay and
+Dyak rebels. The natives were forming for a charge.
+
+Carver took the lieutenant's hand in his own firm grip.
+
+"This is probably the end," he said. "I'm glad to die fighting in such
+good company."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+A WOMAN'S HEART
+
+
+Lying on the bamboo floor of the jungle hut which Muller had spoken of,
+his hands and feet firmly bound, and a Dyak guard armed with spear and
+kris at the door, Peter Gross thought over the events of his
+administration as resident of Bulungan. His thoughts were not pleasant.
+Shame filled his heart and reddened his brow as he thought of how
+confidently he had assumed his mission, how firmly he had believed
+himself to be the chosen instrument of destiny to restore order in the
+distracted colony and punish those guilty of heinous crimes, and how
+arrogantly he had rejected the sage advice of his elders.
+
+He recollected old Sachsen's warning and his own impatient reply--the
+event that he deemed so preposterous at that time and old Sachsen had
+foreseen had actually come to pass. He had fallen victim to Koyala's
+wiles. And she had betrayed him. Bitterly he cursed his stupid folly,
+the folly that had led him to enter the jungle with her, the folly of
+that mad moment when temptation had assailed him where man is weakest.
+
+In his bitter self-excoriation he had no thought of condemnation for
+her. The fault was his, he vehemently assured himself, lashing himself
+with the scorpions of self-reproach. She was what nature and the sin of
+her father had made her, a child of two alien, unincorporable races, a
+daughter of the primitive, wild, untamed, uncontrolled, loving fiercely,
+hating fiercely, capable of supremest sacrifice, capable, too, of the
+most fiendish cruelty.
+
+He had taken this creature and used her for his own ends, he had praised
+her, petted her, treated her as an equal, companion, and helpmate. Then,
+when that moment of madness was upon them both, he had suddenly wounded
+her acutely sensitive, bitterly proud soul by drawing the bar sinister.
+How she must have suffered! He winced at the thought of the pain he had
+inflicted. She could not be blamed, no, the fault was his, he
+acknowledged. He should have considered that he was dealing with a
+creature of flesh and blood, a woman with youth, and beauty, and
+passion. If he, who so fondly dreamed that his heart was marble, could
+fall so quickly and so fatally, could he censure her?
+
+Carver, too, had warned him. Not once, but many times, almost daily. He
+had laughed at the warnings, later almost quarreled. What should he say
+if he ever saw Carver again? He groaned.
+
+There was a soft swish of skirts. Koyala stood before him. She gazed at
+him coldly. There was neither hate nor love in her eyes, only
+indifference. In her hand she held a dagger. Peter Gross returned her
+gaze without flinching.
+
+"You are my prisoner, _orang blanda_," she said. "Mine only. This hut
+is mine. We are alone here, in the jungle, except for one of my people."
+
+"You may do with me as you will, Koyala," Peter Gross replied weariedly.
+
+Koyala started, and looked at him keenly.
+
+"I have come to carry you away," she announced.
+
+Peter Gross looked at her in silence.
+
+"But first there are many things that we must talk about," she said.
+
+Peter Gross rose to a sitting posture. "I am listening," he announced.
+
+Koyala did not reply at once. She was gazing fixedly into his eyes,
+those frank, gray eyes that had so often looked clearly and honestly
+into hers as he enthusiastically spoke of their joint mission in
+Bulungan. A half-sob broke in her throat, but she restrained it
+fiercely.
+
+"Do you remember, _mynheer_, when we first met?" she asked.
+
+"It was at the mouth of the Abbas River, was it not? At Wolang's
+village?"
+
+"Why did you laugh at me then?" she exclaimed fiercely.
+
+Peter Gross looked at her in astonishment. "I laughed at you?" he
+exclaimed.
+
+"Yes, on the beach. When I told you you must go. You laughed. Do not
+deny it, you laughed!" The fierce intensity of her tone betrayed her
+feeling.
+
+Peter Gross shook his head while his gaze met hers frankly. "I do not
+recollect," he said. "I surely did not laugh at you--I do not know what
+it was--" A light broke upon him. "Ay, to be sure, I remember, now. It
+was a Dyak boy with a mountain goat. He was drinking milk from the
+teats. Don't you recall?"
+
+"You are trying to deceive me," Koyala cried angrily. "You laughed
+because--because--"
+
+"As God lives, it is the truth!"
+
+Koyala placed the point of her dagger over Peter Gross's heart.
+
+"_Orang blanda_," she said, "I have sworn to kill you if you lie to me
+in any single particular to-day. I did not see that whereof you speak.
+There was no boy, no goat. Quick now, the truth, if you would save your
+life."
+
+Peter Gross met her glance fearlessly.
+
+"I have told you why I laughed, Koyala," he replied. "I can tell you
+nothing different."
+
+The point of the dagger pricked the resident's skin.
+
+"Then you would rather die?"
+
+Peter Gross merely stared at her. Koyala drew a deep breath and drew
+back the blade.
+
+"First we shall talk of other things," she said.
+
+At that moment the rattle of rifle-fire reached Peter Gross's ears.
+
+"What is that?" he cried.
+
+Koyala laughed, a low laugh of exultation. "That, _mynheer_, is the
+children of Bulungan driving the white peccaries from Borneo."
+
+"Ah Sing has attacked?" Peter Gross could not help, in his excitement,
+letting a note of his dismay sound in his voice.
+
+"Ah Sing and his pirates," Koyala cried triumphantly. "Wobanguli and the
+warriors of Bulungan. Lkath and his Sadong Dyaks. The Malays from the
+coast towns. All Bulungan except the hill people. They are all there, as
+many as the sands of the seashore, and they have the _orang blanda_ from
+Holland, and the Javanese, and the loud-voiced _orang blanda_ that you
+brought with you, penned in Van Slyck's kampong. None will escape."
+
+"Thank God Carver's in the fort," Peter Gross ejaculated.
+
+"But they cannot escape," Koyala insisted fiercely.
+
+"We shall see," Peter Gross replied. Great as were the odds, he felt
+confident of Carver's ability to hold out a few days anyway. He had yet
+to learn of the artillery Ah Sing commanded.
+
+"Not one shall escape," Koyala reiterated, the tigerish light glowing in
+her eyes. "Ah Sing has pledged it to me, Wobanguli has pledged it to me,
+the last _orang blanda_ shall be driven from Bulungan." She clutched the
+hilt of her dagger fiercely--.
+
+Amazed at her vehemence, Peter Gross watched the shifting display of
+emotion on her face.
+
+"Koyala," he said, suddenly, "why do you hate us whites so?"
+
+He shrank before the fierce glance she cast at him.
+
+"Is there any need to ask?" she cried violently. "Did I not tell you the
+first day we met, when I told you I asked no favors of you, and would
+accept none? What have you and your race brought to my people and to me
+but misery, and more misery? You came with fair promises, how have you
+fulfilled them? In the _orang blanda_ way, falsehood upon falsehood,
+taking all, giving none. Why don't I kill you now, when I have you in my
+power, when I have only to drop my hand thus--" she flashed the dagger
+at Peter Gross's breast--"and I will be revenged? Why? Because I was a
+fool, white man, because I listened to your lies and believed when all
+my days I have sworn I would not. So I have let you live, unless--" She
+did not finish the thought, but stood in rigid attention, listening to
+the increasing volume of rifle-fire.
+
+"They are wiping it out in blood there," she said softly to herself,
+"the wrongs of Bulungan, what my unhappy country has suffered from the
+_orang blanda_."
+
+Peter Gross's head was bowed humbly.
+
+"I have wronged you," he said humbly. "But, before God, I did it in
+ignorance. I thought you understood--I thought you worked with me for
+Bulungan and Bulungan only, with no thought of self. So I worked. Yet
+somehow, my plans went wrong. The people did not trust me. I tried to
+relieve them of unjust taxes. They would not let me take the census. I
+tried to end raiding. There were always disorders and I could not find
+the guilty. I found a murderer for Lkath, among his own people, yet he
+drove me away. I cannot understand it."
+
+"Do you know why?" Koyala exclaimed exultingly. "Do you know why you
+failed? It was I--I--I, who worked against you. The _orang kayas_ sent
+their runners to me and said: 'Shall we give the _controlleur_ the count
+of our people?' and I said: 'No, Djath forbids.' To the Rajahs and
+Gustis I said: 'Let there be wars, we must keep the ancient valor of our
+people lest they become like the Javanese, a nation of slaves.' You
+almost tricked Lkath into taking the oath. But in the night I went to
+him and said: 'Shall the vulture rest in the eagle's nest?' and he drove
+you away."
+
+Peter Gross stared at her with eyes that saw not. The house of his faith
+was crumbling into ruins, yet he scarcely realized it himself, the
+revelation of her perfidy had come so suddenly. He groped blindly for
+salvage from the wreck, crying:
+
+"But you saved my life--three times!"
+
+She saw his suffering and smiled. So she had been made to suffer, not
+once, but a thousand times.
+
+"That was because I had sworn the revenge should be mine, not Ah Sing's
+or any one else's, _orang blanda_."
+
+Peter Gross lowered his face in the shadow. He did not care to have her
+see how great had been his disillusionment, how deep was his pain.
+
+"You may do with me as you will, _juffrouw_," he said.
+
+Koyala looked at him strangely a moment, then rose silently and left the
+hut. Peter Gross never knew the reason. It was because at that moment,
+when she revealed her Dyak treachery and uprooted his faith, he spoke to
+her as he would to a white woman--"_juffrouw_."
+
+"They are holding out yet," Peter Gross said to himself cheerfully some
+time later as the sound of scattered volleys was wafted over the hills.
+Presently he heard the dull boom of the first shell. His face paled.
+
+"That is artillery!" he exclaimed. "Can it be--?" He remembered the
+heavy guns on the proas and his face became whiter still. He began
+tugging at his bonds, but they were too firmly bound. His Dyak guard
+looked in and grinned, and he desisted. As time passed and the
+explosions continued uninterruptedly, his face became haggard and more
+haggard. It was because of his folly, he told himself, that men were
+dying there--brave Carver, so much abler and more foresighted than he,
+the ever-cheerful Paddy, all those he had brought with him, good men and
+true. He choked.
+
+Presently the shell-fire ceased. Peter Gross knew what it meant, in
+imagination he saw the columns of natives forming, column upon column,
+all that vast horde of savages and worse than savages let loose on a
+tiny square of whites.
+
+A figure stood in the doorway. It was Koyala. Cho Seng stood beside her.
+
+"The walls are down," she cried triumphantly. "There is only a handful
+of them left. The people of Bulungan are now forming for the charge. In
+a few minutes you will be the only white man left in Bulungan."
+
+"I and Captain Van Slyck," Peter Gross said scornfully.
+
+"He is dead," Koyala replied. "Ah Sing killed him. He was of no further
+use to us, why should he live?"
+
+Peter Gross's lips tightened grimly. The traitor, at least, had met the
+death he merited.
+
+Cho Seng edged nearer. Peter Gross noticed the dagger hilt protruding
+from his blouse.
+
+"Has my time come, too?" he asked calmly.
+
+The Chinaman leaped on him. "Ah Sing sends you this," he cried
+hoarsely--the dagger flashed.
+
+Quick as he was, quick as a tiger striking its prey, the Argus Pheasant
+was quicker. As the dagger descended, Koyala caught him by the wrist. He
+struck her with his free hand and tried to tear the blade away. Then his
+legs doubled under him, for Peter Gross, although his wrists were bound,
+could use his arms. Cho Seng fell on the point of the dagger, that
+buried itself to the hilt in the fleshy part of his breast. With a low
+groan he rolled over. His eyeballs rolled glassily upward, thick, choked
+sounds came from his throat--
+
+"Ah Sing--comeee--for Koyala--plenty quick--" With a sigh, he died.
+
+Peter Gross looked at the Argus Pheasant. She was gazing dully at a tiny
+scratch on her forearm, a scratch made by Cho Seng's dagger. The edges
+were purplish.
+
+"The dagger was poisoned," she murmured dully. Her glance met her
+prisoner's and she smiled wanly.
+
+"I go to _Sangjang_ with you, _mynheer_," she said.
+
+Peter Gross staggered to his knees and caught her arm. Before she
+comprehended what he intended to do he had his lips upon the cut and was
+sucking the blood. A scarlet tide flooded her face, then fled, leaving
+her cheeks with the pallor of death.
+
+"No, no," she cried, choking, and tried to tear her arm away. But in
+Peter Gross's firm grasp she was like a child. After a frantic, futile
+struggle she yielded. Her face was bloodless as a corpse and she stared
+glassily at the wall.
+
+Presently Peter Gross released her.
+
+"It was only a scratch," he said gently. "I think we have gotten rid of
+the poison."
+
+The sound of broken sobbing was his only answer.
+
+"Koyala," he exclaimed.
+
+With a low moan she ran out of the hut, leaving him alone with the dead
+body of the Chinaman, already bloated purple.
+
+Peter Gross listened again. Only the ominous silence from the hills, the
+silence that foretold the storm. He wondered where Koyala was and his
+heart became hot as he recollected Cho Seng's farewell message that Ah
+Sing was coming. Well, Ah Sing would find him, find him bound and
+helpless. The pirate chief would at last have his long-sought revenge.
+For some inexplicable reason he felt glad that Koyala was not near. The
+jungle was her best protection, he knew.
+
+A heavy explosion cut short his reveries. "They are cannonading again,"
+he exclaimed in surprise, but as another terrific crash sounded a moment
+later, his face became glorified. Wild cries of terror sounded over the
+hills, Dyak cries, mingled with the shrieking of shrapnel--
+
+"It's the _Prins_," Peter Gross exclaimed jubilantly. "Thank God,
+Captain Enckel came on time."
+
+He tugged at his own bonds in a frenzy of hope, exerting all his great
+strength to strain them sufficiently to permit him to slip one hand
+free. But they were too tightly bound. Presently a shadow fell over him.
+He looked up with a start, expecting to see the face of the Chinese
+arch-murderer, Ah Sing. Instead it was Koyala.
+
+"Let me help you," she said huskily. With a stroke of her dagger she cut
+the cord. Another stroke cut the bonds that tied his feet. He sprang up,
+a free man.
+
+"Hurry, Koyala," he cried, catching her by the arm. "Ah Sing may be here
+any minute."
+
+Koyala gently disengaged herself.
+
+"Ah Sing is in the jungle, far from here," she said.
+
+A silence fell upon them both. Her eyes, averted from his, sought the
+ground. He stood by, struggling for adequate expression.
+
+"Where are you going, Koyala?" he finally asked. She had made no
+movement to go.
+
+"Wherever you will, _mynheer_," she replied quietly. "I am now your
+prisoner."
+
+Peter Gross stared a moment in astonishment. "My prisoner?" he repeated.
+"Nonsense."
+
+"Your people have conquered, _mynheer_," she said. "Mine are in flight.
+Therefore I have come to surrender myself--to you."
+
+"I do not ask your surrender," Peter Gross, replied gravely, beginning
+to understand.
+
+"You do not ask it, _mynheer_, but some one must suffer for what has
+happened. Some one must pay the victor's price. I am responsible, I
+incited my people. So I offer myself--they are innocent and should not
+be made to suffer."
+
+"Ah Sing is responsible," Peter Gross said firmly. "And I."
+
+"You, _mynheer_?" The question came from Koyala's unwilling lips before
+she realized it.
+
+"Yes, I, _juffrouw_. It is best that we forget what has happened--I must
+begin my work over again." He closed his lips firmly, there were lines
+of pain in his face. "That is," he added heavily, "if his excellency
+will permit me to remain here after this fiasco."
+
+"You will stay here?" Koyala asked incredulously.
+
+"Yes. And you, _juffrouw_?"
+
+A moment's silence. "My place is with my people--if you do not want me
+as hostage, _mynheer_?"
+
+Peter Gross took a step forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. She
+trembled violently.
+
+"I have a better work for you, _juffrouw_," he said.
+
+Her eyes lifted slowly to meet his. There was mute interrogation in the
+glance.
+
+"To help me make Bulungan peaceful and prosperous," he said.
+
+Koyala shook herself free and walked toward the door. Peter Gross did
+not molest her. She stood on the threshold, one hesitating foot on the
+jungle path that led to the grove of big banyans. For some minutes she
+remained there. Then she slowly turned and reentered the hut.
+
+"Mynheer Gross," she said, in a choking voice, "before I met you I
+believed that all the _orang blanda_ were vile. I hated the white blood
+that was in me, many times I yearned to take it from me, drop by drop,
+many times I stood on the edge of precipices undecided whether to let it
+nourish my body longer or no. Only one thing kept me from death, the
+thought that I might avenge the wrongs of my unhappy country and my
+unhappy mother."
+
+A stifled sob shook her. After a moment or two she resumed:
+
+"Then you came. I prayed the Hanu Token to send a young man, a young man
+who would desire me, after the manner of white men. When I saw you I
+knew you as the man of the Abbas, the man who had laughed, and I thought
+the Hanu Token had answered my prayer. I saved you from Wobanguli, I
+saved you from Ah Sing, that you might be mine, mine only to torture."
+Her voice broke again.
+
+"But you disappointed me. You were just, you were kind, righteous in
+all your dealings, considerate of me. You did not seek to take me in
+your arms, even when I came to you in your own dwelling. You did not
+taunt me with my mother like that pig, Van Slyck--"
+
+"He is dead," Peter Gross interrupted gently.
+
+"I have no sorrow for him. _Sangjang_ has waited over-long for him. Now
+you come to me, after all that has happened, and say: 'Koyala, will you
+forget and help me make Bulungan happy?' What shall I answer,
+_mynheer_?"
+
+She looked at him humbly, entreatingly. Peter Gross smiled, his
+familiar, confident, warming smile.
+
+"What your conscience dictates, Koyala."
+
+She breathed rapidly. At last came her answer, a low whisper. "If you
+wish it, I will help you, _mynheer_."
+
+Peter Gross reached out his hand and caught hers. "Then we're pards
+again," he cried.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+THE GOVERNOR'S PROMISE
+
+
+Peter Gross had just concluded an account of his administration in
+Bulungan to Governor-General Van Schouten at the latter's _paleis_ in
+Batavia. The governor-general was frowning.
+
+"So! _mynheer_," he exclaimed gruffly. "This is not a very happy report
+you have brought me."
+
+Peter Gross bent his head.
+
+"No census, not a cent of taxes paid, piracy, murders, my
+_controlleurs_--God knows where they are, the whole province in revolt.
+This is a nice kettle of fish."
+
+Sachsen glanced sympathetically at Peter Gross. The lad he loved so well
+sat with bowed head and clenched hands, lines of suffering marked his
+face, he had grown older, oh, so much older, during those few sorry
+months since he had so confidently declared his policies for the
+regeneration of the residency in this very room. The governor was
+speaking again.
+
+"You said you would find Mynheer de Jonge's murderer for me," Van
+Schouten rasped. "Have you done that?"
+
+"Yes, your excellency. It was Kapitein Van Slyck who planned the deed,
+and Cho Seng who committed the act, pricked him with a upas thorn while
+he slept, as I told your excellency. Here are my proofs. A statement
+made by Mynheer Muller to Captain Carver and Lieutenant Banning before
+he died, and a statement made by Koyala to me." He gave the governor the
+documents. The latter scanned them briefly and laid them aside.
+
+"How did Muller come to his death?" he demanded.
+
+"Like a true servant of the state, fighting in defense of the fort,"
+Peter Gross replied. "A splinter of a shell struck him in the body."
+
+"H-m!" the governor grunted. "I thought he was one of these traitors,
+too."
+
+"He expiated his crimes two weeks ago at Fort Wilhelmina, your
+excellency."
+
+"And Cho Seng?" the governor demanded. "Is he still alive?"
+
+"He fell on his own dagger." Peter Gross described the incident. "It was
+not the dagger thrust that killed him," he explained. "That made only a
+flesh wound. But the dagger point had been dipped in a cobra's venom."
+Softly he added: "He always feared that he would die from a snake's
+poison."
+
+"It is the judgment of God," Van Schouten pronounced solemnly. He looked
+at Peter Gross sharply.
+
+"Now this Koyala," he asked, "where is she?"
+
+"I do not know. In the hills, among her own people, I think. She will
+not trouble you again."
+
+The governor stared at his resident. Gradually the stern lines of his
+face relaxed and a quaintly humorous glint came into his eyes.
+
+"So, Mynheer Gross, the woman deceived you?" he asked sharply.
+
+Peter Gross made no reply. The governor's eyes twinkled. He suddenly
+brought down his fist on the table with a resounding bang.
+
+"_Donder en bliksem!_" he exclaimed, "I cannot find fault with you for
+that. The fault is mine. I should have known better. Why, when I was
+your age, a pretty woman could strip the very buttons from my dress
+coat--dammit, Mynheer Gross, you must have had a heart of ice to
+withstand her so long."
+
+He flourished a highly colored silk handkerchief and blew his nose
+lustily.
+
+"So you are forgiven on that count, Mynheer Gross. Now for the other. It
+appears that by your work you have created a much more favorable feeling
+toward us among many of the natives. The hill Dyaks did not rise against
+us as they have always done before, and some of the coast Dyak tribes
+were loyal. That buzzard, Lkath, stayed in his lair. Furthermore, you
+have solved the mysteries that have puzzled us for years and the
+criminals have been muzzled. Lastly, you were the honey that attracted
+all these piratical pests into Bulungan harbor where Kapitein Enckel was
+able to administer them a blow that will sweep those seas clear of this
+vermin for years to come, I believe. You have not done so badly after
+all, Mynheer Gross. Of course, you and your twenty-five men might have
+come to grief had not Sachsen, here, heard reports that caused me to
+send the _Prins Lodewyk_ post-haste to Bulungan, but we will overlook
+your too great confidence on the score of your youth." He chuckled. "Now
+as to the future."
+
+He paused and looked smilingly into the eyes that looked so gratefully
+into his.
+
+"What say you to two more years at Bulungan, _mynheer_, to straighten
+out affairs there, work out your policies, and finish what you have so
+ably begun?"
+
+"Your excellency is too good," Peter Gross murmured brokenly.
+
+"Good!" Van Schouten snapped. "_Donder en bliksem, mynheer_, it is only
+that I know a man when I see him. Can you go back next week?"
+
+"Yes, your excellency."
+
+"Then see that you do. And see to it that those devils send me some rice
+this year when the tax falls due or I will hang them all in the good,
+old-fashioned way."
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: The Big Fight]
+
+[Illustration: Capt. David Fallon M.C.]
+
+
+Few soldiers in this great war have been through adventures more
+thrilling, dramatic and perilous than fell to the lot of Captain David
+Fallon.
+
+He is a young Irishman whose first fighting was against the hillmen in
+their uprisings in India. He received the Indian Field Medal.
+
+The opening of the war found him physical instructor and bayonet drill
+master at the Royal Military College, Duntroon, New South Wales. He went
+through the entire, terrible Gallipoli campaign.
+
+He was in scores of fierce trench battles.
+
+He commanded a tank in an amazing war adventure.
+
+He has served as an aerial observer, spotted enemy positions and fought
+enemy aeroplanes.
+
+On the road to Thiepval with a shoulder smashed by shrapnel he remained
+in command of his men behind barricades made of the dead and for
+twenty-two hours held off the Germans until reinforcements arrived.
+
+On scout duty he frequently penetrated German trenches and gun positions
+in the night.
+
+A bomb duel with a German patrol when he was detected in their trenches
+brought him irreparable injury.
+
+He lay for three days in the mud of a shellhole in the enemy country
+with his right arm blasted, his upper jaw broken, his face and shoulders
+burned, but survived and managed to escape.
+
+He was awarded the Military Cross for daring and valuable service to his
+King.
+
+You will probably hear Captain Fallon lecture, but his book is something
+you will wish to keep. It is historical and every word rings true.
+
+
+
+
+THE WAR BOOK WITH A THRILL
+
+SPECIMEN CHAPTER
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+"RAZZLE DAZZLE"
+
+
+It was at Beaumont-Hamel, about September 16th, that I got my chance to
+command a "tank."
+
+The dear girl was named "Razzle Dazzle." She was very young, having been
+in service only three months, but rather portly. Matter of fact, she
+weighed something over thirty tons. And in no way could you call the
+dear little woman pretty. She was a pallid gray and mud-splashed when I
+got her and there was no grace in the bulging curves of her steel shape.
+Or of her conical top. Or her ponderous wheels.
+
+The fact is that she showed every aspect of being a bad, scrappy old
+dearie. The minute I saw her in her lovely ugliness I knew she would
+like trouble and lots of it. Her metabolism was a marvel. She carried a
+six-hundred-horse-power motor. And out of her gray steel hoods
+protruded eight guns. An infernal old girl, you can bet she was. All
+ready to make battle in large quantities.
+
+When I boarded "Razzle Dazzle" she was full of dents. She had rocked
+around among several trench charges. But the reason for my assignment to
+her was prosaic. Her captain had not been killed. He was just sick--some
+stomach complaint. I was drafted on an hour's notice to the job, this,
+because of long training in handling rapid-fire guns.
+
+It was all new to me, but highly interesting. My crew consisted of seven
+men--five of them well experienced. And a black cat. Although she was a
+lady-cat she had been named "Joffre" and I can't tell you why because I
+never received any explanation on this point myself. But "Joffre" was
+very friendly and insisted on sitting either on my knee or shoulder from
+the moment I sealed myself and my men in the tank. We had our outlook
+from several periscopes above the turret and from spy holes in the
+turret itself.
+
+The order had come to me about one in the morning, and it was nearly
+three when we started lumbering out toward the enemy trenches. We had
+about six hundred yards to cover. I knew little or nothing of her motor
+power or speed. My concern was with the efficiency of the guns. She
+pumped and swayed "across No Man's Land" at about four miles an hour.
+She groaned and tossed a great deal. And in fact, made such poor
+progress that my regiment, the Oxfords and Bucks, beat the old dearie to
+the enemy lines. Our men were among the barbed wire of the first line,
+fighting it, cutting it, knocking it down before the old "Razzle Dazzle"
+got into action.
+
+But she "carried on" just the same. And when she smote the barbed-wire
+obstacles, she murdered them. She crushed those barriers to what looked
+like messes of steel spaghetti.
+
+Instead of sinking into trenches as I feared she would, she crushed them
+and continued to move forward. Of course, we were letting go everything
+we had, and from my observation hole, I could see the Germans didn't
+like it.
+
+They had put up something of a stand against the infantry. But against
+the tank they were quick to make their farewells. It was a still black
+night, but under the star-shells we could see them scurrying out of our
+way.
+
+This was very sensible of them because we were certainly making a clean
+sweep of everything in sight and had the earth ahead throwing up
+chocolate showers of spray as if the ground we rode was an angry sea of
+mud.
+
+Every man in the tank was shouting and yelling with the excitement of
+the thing and we were tossed up against each other like loosened peas in
+a pod. Only Joffre remained perfectly cool. Somehow she maintained a
+firm seat on my swaying shoulder and as I glanced around to peer at her
+she was calmly licking a paw and then daintily wiped her face.
+
+Suddenly out of a very clever camouflage of tree branches and shrubbery
+a German machine-gun emplacement was revealed. The bullets stormed and
+rattled upon the tank. But they did themselves a bad turn by revealing
+their whereabouts, for we made straight for the camouflage and went
+over that battery of machine guns, crunching its concrete foundation as
+if it were chalk.
+
+[Illustration: "British blood is calling British blood"]
+
+Then we turned about and from our new position put the Germans under an
+enfilade fire that we kept up until every evidence was at hand that the
+Oxfords and Bucks and supporting battalions were holding the trenches.
+
+But this was only preliminary work cut out for the tank to do. I had
+special instructions and a main objective. This was a sugar refinery. It
+was a one-storied building of brick and wood with a tiled roof. It had
+been established as a sugar refinery by the Germans before the war and
+when this occasion arose blossomed as a fortress with a gun aimed out of
+every window.
+
+To allow it to remain standing in hostile hands would mean that the
+trenches we had won could be constantly battered. Its removal was most
+desirable. To send infantry against it would have involved huge losses
+in life. The tank was deemed the right weapon.
+
+It was.
+
+[Illustration: Cleaning Mills bombs]
+
+And largely because "Razzle Dazzle" took matters into her own hands. The
+truth is she ran away.
+
+We rocked and plowed out of the trenches and went swaying toward the
+refinery. I ordered the round-top sealed. And we beat the refinery to
+the attack with our guns. But they had seen us coming and every window
+facing our way developed a working gun. There were about sixteen such
+windows. They all blazed at us.
+
+My notion had been to circle the "sugar mill", with "Razzle Dazzle" and
+shoot it up from all sides. We were getting frightfully rapped by the
+enemy fire, but there was apparently nothing heavy enough to split the
+skin of the wild, old girl. Our own fire was effective. We knocked out
+all the windows and the red-tiled roof was sagging. As I say, my notion
+was to circle the "mill" and I gave orders accordingly. But the "Razzle
+Dazzle's" chauffeur looked at me in distress.
+
+"The steering gear's off, sir," said he.
+
+"Stop her then and we'll let them have it from here," I ordered.
+
+He made several frantic motions with the mechanism and said:
+
+"I can't stop her, either."
+
+And the "Razzle Dazzle" carried out her own idea of attack. She banged
+head-on into the "mill." She went right through a wide doorway, making
+splinters of the door, she knocked against concrete pillars, supports
+and walls, smashing everything in her way and bowled out of the other
+side just as the roof crashed in and apparently crushed and smothered
+all the artillery men beneath it.
+
+On the way through, the big, powerful old girl bucked and rocked and
+reared until we men and the black cat inside her were thrown again and
+again into a jumble, the cat scratching us like a devil in her frenzy of
+fear.
+
+Closed up in the tank as we were, we could hear the roar and crash of
+the falling "mill," and from my observation port-hole I could observe
+that it was most complete. The place had been reduced to a mere heap.
+Not a shot came out of it at us.
+
+But still the "Razzle Dazzle" was having her own way. Her motorist was
+signaling me that he had no control of her. This was cheerful
+intelligence because right ahead was a huge shell crater. She might
+slide into it and climb up the other side and out. I hoped so. But she
+didn't. She hit the bottom of the pit, tried to push her way up and out,
+fell back, panted, pushed up again, fell back and then just stuck at the
+bottom of the well, throbbing and moaning and maybe penitent for her
+recklessness.
+
+Penitence wasn't to do her any good. It wasn't five minutes later when
+the Germans had the range of her and began smashing us with big shells.
+I ordered my men to abandon her and led them in a rush out of the crater
+and into small shell holes until the storm of fire was past.
+
+When it was, "Razzle Dazzle" was a wreck. She was cracked, distorted and
+shapeless. But the runaway engine was still plainly to be heard
+throbbing. Finally a last big shell sailed into the doughty tank and
+there was a loud bang and a flare. Her oil reservoir shot up in an
+enormous blaze.
+
+"Razzle Dazzle" was no more. But she had accounted for the "refinery."
+And our infantry had done the rest. The German position was ours.
+
+I was all enthusiasm for fighting "tanks." But my superiors squelched
+it. For when I asked for command of a sister of "Razzle Dazzle" next
+day, a cold-eyed aide said to me:
+
+"One tank, worth ten thousand pounds, is as much as any bally young
+officer may expect to be given to destroy during his lifetime. Good
+afternoon."
+
+He never gave me a chance to explain that it was "Razzle Dazzle's" own
+fault, how she had taken things into her own willful control. But he did
+try to give me credit for what "Razzle Dazzle" had herself accomplished.
+He said the destruction of the "sugar mill" had been "fine work."
+
+I wonder what "Joffre" thought of it all. I don't remember seeing her
+when we fled from the "tank," except as something incredibly swift and
+black flashed past my eyes as we thrust up the lid. I sincerely hope she
+is alive and well "somewhere in France."
+
+     "THE BIG FIGHT" is over 300 pages long and is the most
+     interesting of war books. Some books are made to read and
+     forget; others to read and to keep. "THE BIG FIGHT" belongs to
+     the latter class.
+
+     Why not order a copy to-day?
+
+[Illustration: In the supports, waiting to advance]
+
+[Illustration: The Military Cross]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Argus Pheasant, by John Charles Beecham
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGUS PHEASANT ***
+
+***** This file should be named 37215.txt or 37215.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/2/1/37215/
+
+Produced by Katie Hernandez, Suzanne Shell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/37215.zip b/37215.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..56b4fa3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/37215.zip
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f686283
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #37215 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37215)