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Such was the story that Krêting, the old Sakai slave woman, told me that afternoon long ago, as she sat angling for little fish on the banks of the Pêrak River. Her kinsfolk of the Sâkai country were still able, in some instances, to recall the incidents con- nected with her capture, and they spoke to me of her as Te-I-Running Water-a name which set the sad-faced old hag weeping very pitifully when, after the lapse of so many years, she heard it spoken by my lips together with some broken fragments of he mother-tongue.
