Ran Away From the Dutch/Chapter 1
RAN AWAY FROM THE DUTCH;
OR,
BORNEO FROM SOUTH TO NORTH.
A MILITARY REPORT—FOUR DESERTERS—-BABA POETJIENG—A LETTER—A COMPASSIONATE DOCTOR, HIS REFLECTIONS—FIRST INTRODUCTION TO TOMONGGONG—THE TITIH—A CHOLERA FUNERAL— RIFLE SHOT AND CANNON SHOT.
"If you please, Colonel, four men have not answered to their I names at roll-call."
"Who are they?"
"Schlickeisen, Wienersdorf, La Cueille and Johannes."
"Two Swiss, a Belgian and a native," muttered the Colonel. "And has it been ascertained how late they were seen at the military kampong?"
"Impossible, Colonel, the gates close at six and after that hour may not be reopened without your permission."
"Let a corporal and three men be immediately despatched to enquire after them. Then close the gates and double the guard so that means may be at hand to send out aid if required."
"Right, Colonel."
"Let me also have a full report of the search in the kampong and its results."
"Right, Colonel! Any further orders?"
A negative being indicated by a shake of the head, the sergeant saluted and quitted the apartment.
The Colonel rose from his rocking-chair. A sudden anxiety seemed to possess him. But a few moments before his face had seemed to be cast in bronze. Not a muscle had moved. Now, however, he had become restless and perturbed. He turned up the flame of his lamp and going to a safe took down a large volume. This he placed on the table and began to read attentively. The book contained extracts from the army register, that wonderful description of the whole of the Dutch Indian force which is kept posted with the most laudable exactitude at the war office in Batavia.
"Schlickeisen," read the Colonel; "a Swiss born at Steinbach, in the canton of Glarus, twenty-one years old. Father a priest." He turned over another leaf.
"Wienersdorf, also a Swiss; born at Winterthür, in the canton of Zürich, twenty-three years old. Father a professor of natural philosophy.
"La Cueille, a Belgian, born at Cheratte, in the province of Liege, twenty-six years old. Father a miner in the coal mines of Jupille."
"Johannes, born at Padang, island of Sumatra; about thirty years old. Father unknown. Mother the Niasian woman, Ma Troeni."
The Colonel closed the book; he could obtain from it no further information,
"A curious affair," he muttered, "and one that will cause endless trouble unless it should prove to be only a drunken brawl."
Taking another large folio from his collection of books, he turned over a few pages and read:
"Schlickeisen and Wienersdorf were recommended at the registry to be educated as officers. They were subsequently dismissed from the college for taking part in the insurrection of the Swiss at Samarang. The one was a candidate for the bar, the other had finished his curriculum at the reaalschule and had received his diploma as teacher of natural philosophy and chemistry. Both had studied at Zurich, Nothing seems to be known of La Cueille. He has said that he was once assistant to a gunmaker at Meester Cornelis, but had been dismissed for drunkenness. And Johannes, another of those Indian products of animal passion, whose birth is almost a misfortune to him."
Thus far had the Colonel read and commented when a knock was heard and the sergeant again appeared. In correct military attitude he waited until his superior officer should interrogate him.
"Well, are they found?"
"No, Colonel, we have scoured the whole of the military kampong. It is quite deserted. All we have found is this letter, addressed to you by Johannes and left by him in his hut."
The Colonel received the letter with an air of indifference, opened it and just glanced at the signature. Then dropping it carelessly on the table, he asked,
"Have you discovered whether the missing men had procured any drink?"
"Not any, Colonel."
"Who commands the guard?"
"Corporal Greenwood."
"Ahem; also an old drunkard. Ascertain from him and from the sentries whether Baba Poetjieng has been in the batang." The sergeant withdrew.
Baba and Kee are used to designate the Chinese in the Dutch Indies. The former is the more complimentary. Kee is humiliating and almost a nickname.
Baba Poetjieng was a sly Chinaman who had managed to make himself indispensable to the garrison by the sale of such merchandise as tobacco, needles, thread, beer, canned meats and vegetables, paper, pens and ink, etc., all of the first quality and unmistakably cheap. His prices, compared with those of the European merchants of Bandjermasin and even of Java, could not possibly have yielded him the smallest profit. It rather seemed as if he actually lost by his transactions. This he swore by the coffin of his father and grandfather was really the case; alleging that it was a reai pleasure to him to serve his good friends the Hollanders. One day the Colonel happened to pick up outside of the fort an empty sardine box, and upon examining it became struck by its peculiar trade-mark and by an extraordinary smell which seemed to cling to it. Finding a second box on a subsequent occasion, he again detected the same odor, and the idea struck him that the boxes had contained opium. He also noticed that among both the Indian and the European soldiers of the garrison there was a certain amount of excitement whenever Baba Poetjieng was at the pier with his wares. But all efforts to entrap the sly Chinaman had proved unavailing. His tins when opened for examination were always found to contain the finest sardines or California fruits; and with a satisfied grin our Baba asked the Colonel whether he had enjoyed his purchases. He had "most carefully selected his wares for the toean." The reader will now perceive why the Colonel had expressed a wish to know whether Baba Poetjieng had been seen at the pier.
The sergeant returned with a report that nobody had seen the Chinaman that day.
Orders were then given that the sergeant and six soldiers should go to the kampong and invite the Chief of the district to visit the Commander immediately. "Proceed cautiously," said the Colonel. "The gates will be guarded until you return. The sentinels must redouble their vigilance and keep a sharp lookout, I shall presently go around myself to see how all goes on."
After the departure of the sergeant, the Colonel took up the letter, which he had thrown on the table, and read:
"High-born and Honored Colonel.—We shall be a long way off when this letter is read by you. You will undoubtedly use every effort to recapture us, but all will be in vain, Our measures have been well taken and you will never see one of us back alive. We have had enough of the Dutch service.
"We thank you most cordially, dear Colonel, for the noble treatment we have received at your hands. If any one could have reconciled us to our condition and prevented our embarking on our present dangerous enterprise, it would have been you. But who can assure us that you will remain in command over us! The time we have yet to serve is long and men's characters are not alike. We Swiss have been cruelly deceived by the recruiting officers of the Dutch army. We refrain from saying where the deceit lies. You are able to fathom our misery in all its extent. We have been enticed from our lovely valleys under the most wicked pretences; we were promised the greatest advantages, but of all these promises nothing has ever been realized.
"But why should we write all this to you-you who are entirely blameless for the miseries we suffer? We know that you have done all you could to render our fate supportable and on that account we do not wish to appear guilty in your eyes. We will be called, and we certainly are, deserters; but we do not deserve the ignominy which will cling to our names. You at least could not misjudge us. We might have considered ourselves bound to the Dutch government, but when we perceived that we were the victims of foul duplicity our contract did not appear binding upon us. In transactions of such a nature it is not fair that one side only should fulfill its duties, while the other is left free to carry out such part of its engagement as is found convenient."
"Poor wretches," said the Colonel.
"But," he continued reading, "some excuse might well be offered by us for our desertion, and on that score our consciences are easy. Necessity compels us to act as we are doing. Judge for yourself. You kindly lent us your theodolite, field-glasses, sextant and compass in order that we might keep up our knowledge of surveying. Some of those instruments we have decided to take with us. The last two are especially indispensable to us, since without them we should soon be lost in our proposed journey. The theodolite we will leave in Johannes' cabin. Pray pardon us this dishonesty. You may rest assured that we will either return the borrowed instruments or forward the cost as soon as we find ourselves once more among civilized nations. And now, dear Colonel, may God reward you for the kind treatment we have received from you. We feel that a hard chase after us is about to commence. God protect us. Farewell.
"SCHLICKEISEN,
"WIENERSDORF.
"P. S. If we should perish in our efforts to regain our liberty our fate will not remain long concealed from you. We entreat you by everything you value, by the memory of your lamented mother, to inform our parents of our end. You will find full particulars of their addresses in our military pass-books. Once more, farewell."
"Poor devils," repeated the Colonel, wiping away a tear as if he felt humiliated by his emotion. "What a miserable fate these men have gone to encounter." He then laid the letter on the table, giving vent to a deep sigh and became wrapt in meditation. He was interrupted by the entrance of the garrison doctor, who rushed into the room with an angry and excited countenance.
The doctor was a tall, slender man, with bristly red hair and a pair of yellow mustaches, the points of which were kept well waxed so that they stood out as if trying to reach behind his ears, He also had received a letter which he held in his hand.
"Himmelskreuz! The rogue has bolted."
He was evidently a Prussian or South German.
"What? Who?" asked the Colonel.
"Der Wallon, das Vieh, and he has taken my instruments and revolvers with him."
La Cueille had likewise left a letter behind to explain the theft of the doctor's instruments and arms, which as he was a gunsmith had been entrusted to him for repair. He had also begged to be excused to the Colonel, whose two Remington rifies he had carried off.
"One cannot risk such a dangerous journey quite defenceless," the Walloon had reasoned. "The Colonel was sure to know of the dangers they would have to encounter."
The Colonel showed the doctor the letter which he had received.
"Then they have bolted together."
"Very probably."
"Poor fellows! But what will you do now?"
"I have sent to the Chief of the district. It may be that he has some information. Upon his communication will depend my course of action."
"Do you mean to pursue them?"
"Certainly," replied the Colonel.
"But the safety of the post entrusted to you?"
"Oh, my dear sir, I will not endanger that."
"How so? The garrison is not strong. You cannot take any men away from it without danger."
"Oh, I will leave the garrison intact. I will have them hunted down by a native detachment."
"That would be cruel. To be hunted down by Dayaks!"
"I must own that those fellows are not over-scrupulous; but what else can I do? As you say, I dare not take any of the garrison and I cannot very well remain inactive. However, it is impossible to decide what steps are to be taken until I have seen the Chief of the district. It may be that the deserters have already been seized by the kampong guard and that our anxieties are premature. I am now going to visit the posts, will you come with me?"
"Donnerwetter! it is no treat to grope about in that Egyptian darkness."
"Well stay behind and wait for me. The Chief may be here directly and I should like to have you present at our interview. I shall not be long."
The Colonel went out. He had only a short distance to go, the fort being very small.
The sentries were found duly posted and peering sharply into the surrounding darkness. The bridge over the moat had been let down and the gates stood ajar; but outside at the further extremity of the drawbridge there was stationed a picket of six men, whilst behind the gate the whole garrison was drawn up with shouldered rifles. The Colonel, satisfied with his inspection, was about to return to his quarters and his guest when he was accosted by a corporal.
"What is the matter?" he asked.
"The rifles of Johannes, Schlickeisen, Wienersdorf and La Cueille are missing from the gun rack and most of the men's cartridge boxes have been emptied."
"Ha! ascertain how many cartridges are lost and let the artillery sergeant replace them immediately from the magazine."
The Colonel had scarcely finished speaking when the corporal of the mess approached to report that four bags of rice and a bag of coffee were missing. These too he ordered replaced and turned away, his mind engrossed by the desertions and their consequences. The men who had deserted, thought he, did not seem to have any quantity or variety of provisions, but they were brave men who would certainly levy toll upon each kampong they passed and find food on every river they traversed. They had weapons and ammunition and could face any danger; they had also instruments whereby they could direct their course. Thus there could be no likelihood of their perishing in the virgin forests of Borneo.
"Yes," said he to himself, "we have here a job which will set both feet and pens in motion and I am afraid, with the writing mania already existing in India, pens are going to beat feet. But those poor, poor devils!"
In the meantime the doctor had stretched himself on a rocking-chair and soon became lost in deep reverie. He regretted that these men had taken so desperate a step; but he could not blame them altogether. He was full of fear for the issue of their undertaking, yet if he himself had not been bound by oath, he would have been inclined to join and become their guide and counsellor. But—he belonged to the Dutch Indian Officers' Club; he had sworn allegiance to the Dutch crown and submission to the military régime of the Dutch army.
He considered himself bound, irrevocably bound, but how had he been treated? They had told him he would be able to live and put aside from his pay a respectable fortune; that in five years he would have three thousand dollars and he had hoped then to return and marry his darling Clara. And now? His income, everything included, had never exceeded sixty dollars a month, a sum barely sufficient to maintain him, so that the fortune of three thousand dollars remained where it had been born—in his imagination. He took from his pocketbook the portrait of a young girl and looked at it until a tear rolled down his cheek. It was the portrait of his Clara.
"Thou wast tired of waiting," sighed he. Heavy footsteps approaching from without he replaced the portrait in his pocket-book just as the Colonel entered, accompanied by the Chief of the district—a Dayak of agreeable countenance, known as Tomonggong Nikodemus Djaja Nagara.
"Take a seat, Tomonggong," said the Colonel, pointing to a chair, "while I get some cigars."
The Tomonggong, however, approached the doctor, bowed his head, presented his hand and uttered the greeting,
"Tabeh toean, saja harap toean ada baik"—Good-day, sir, I hope you are well.
The doctor raised himself from his comfortable position, stepped forward to take the outstretched hand and pressed it cordially. Availing himself of the brief absence of the Colonel, he whispered to the Chief, "They must be saved, they must not be allowed to fall into the hands of the Dutch."
Tomonggong cast a penetrating look on him. Used to treason and falsehood the first feeling of an East Indian, however honest he himself may be, is one of distrust. He suspects that a snare is being laid for him.
Hence the surprise of the Tomonggong when he heard the doctor's words.
"That would be difficult, sir. The Colonel is sure to take strong measures and I,"—after a moment's hesitation, he continued—"I must obey."
"By Mahatara! Tomonggong, save them, save them, I beseech you. If you think you owe me any gratitude, don't refuse my prayer. They are my countrymen."
The doctor stood before the Dayak with his hands pressed together in the attitude of supplication. He had a claim upon the gratitude of Tomonggong of which the Chief was not insensible. Kambang, his eldest and favorite daughter, had some years before been bitten by a very venomous snake. The father sent out for one of the antidotes of the country, but while they were seeking the plant the doctor sucked the poison out of the wound, which he then cauterized with a piece of burning charcoal. His address and promptitude saved the child's life.
The grateful father now bethought him of this and putting aside all distrust seized the doctor's hand and muttered something which was rendered inaudible by the return of the Colonel to the room. He brought a well filled cigar case from which he presented each of his guests a full flavored Manilla. He then lit one for himself and resuming his seat addressed the Tomonggong on the subject of the recent deserters.
"And not a soul in the kampong has discovered anything about their flight?"
"No, sir."
"It is strange, very strange. But, Tomonggong, they must have obtained some kind of a vessel, since flight by land was impossible."
"If any one had missed a djoekoeng the loss would undoubtedly have been reported to me. Besides the escape of white men from the garrison would when known arouse so much excitement that I must have heard of it."
The Colonel meditated for a while. He seemed to be in doubt. At length he resumed, "Tomonggong, I must recapture these men, if only to prevent the example from spreading among our troops. If those poor fellows get among the natives of the upper country they will unquestionably be attacked and perhaps killed."
"Yes, sir, they will be. The head-hunters will not spare them. But do you think they have risked going inland?"
"Their flight seaward is almost impossible," replied the Colonel. "Two cruising vessels are stationed at the mouth of the river and the whole south coast is blockaded by steamers. Suppose they manage to break through the cordon. What then? Dare they risk a voyage on an open sea in a miserable canoe, especially at this season, when the westerly gales blow with such fury? That would be tantamount to self-destruction. And then whither could they go. To Java? If they should by chance succeed in reaching the island, they would fall into the hand of the police, who are exceedingly vigilant. No: my theory is that they have gone to the interior. They will avoid all inhabited parts and try to reach Sarawak."
"Could they not do that by sea ?"
"Well, yes; but they would have then to elude the cruisers and the blockading steamers. That accomplished, as soon as they rounded Cape Batoe Titi, they would fall into the line of our vessels running between Eastern Java and Singapore. Then should they reach the open Chinese Sea, at this season of the year a thousand dangers would still stare them in the face. The chances would be a hundred to one that they would either perish or be captured. Yes; they will make for Sarawak—but only straight across the island."
"But that is a very long way, sir," said the Tomonggong, "and the dangers are not slight in that direction, as you well know."
"I know all that, Tomonggong, but those are dangers which they may hope to surmount; for believe me, they are bold and brave men who will venture anything. Come, we must not delay. Every moment is precious. Return to your dwelling and summon without loss of time the chiefs of the nearest kampongs. Let them collect about fifty men provisioned for a few days. They must all be fully armed and ready to start in two hours. I will come down to inspect and will then give further instructions."
"But, sir, will they be easily captured?"
"I doubt it and that is why I am ordering arms to be taken. I wish to capture them alive and unharmed. If, however, they defend themselves and use their weapons, then—" the Colonel hesitated—he knew the weight of his words.
The doctor stood pale and with clenched fists. After a few moments of reflection the Colonel resumed in a loud voice:
"If they use their weapons you are permitted to use yours. Let one of your most influential chiefs, such as Damboeng Papoendeh, lead the expedition. Send him here at once for orders."
The Colonel spoke with decision, like one accustomed to command. His spirit seemed to infect the Tomonggong, who rose to hurry away. A look, however, at the doctor, whose face showed anxiety and despair, made him pause. He passed his hands over his sarong as if the folds of the garment were hurting him and again seated himself.
"By your leave, sir," he said quietly but firmly, "it won't do, it is already very late and such orders as you direct will cause great commotion in the kampong."
"Well! and what if they do?" asked the Colonel.
"The women and children will be alarmed and the object of these movements may be misunderstood. You know, sir, that in spite of your efforts to pacify the people, we cannot trust a great part of them. Besides there are rumors about. I mentioned yesterday that rangkans filled with head-hunters of the Doessan have been seen in our neighborhood. I cannot say that I believe in these reports, but they are not unlikely to be true because several of our families left their houses last night to seek refuge in the woods."
"But, Tomonggong," interrupted the Colonel.,
"Believe me, sir," the Chief continued solemnly. "Believe me. You know that I am a faithful subject of the Dutch. The object of this night's expedition will be misunderstood by the people. They will all be alarmed and especially the families of those who are sent on this service. Besides where are they to go? You say that the fugitives have not fled seaward. You will pardon me, pardon me a thousand times when I say that I cannot share your opinion. But supposing it could be proved beyond doubt that they have gone inland, I yet repeat my question, Whither shall my Dayaks go? The island of Borneo is very large. Who will lead them on the right track in this darkness?"
"What then is to be done?" asked the Colonel with impatience.
"Wait," was the cool reply. "By to-morrow morning I shall know how your soldiers have escaped and I assure you I will soon be on their track. They could not have left the district unobserved. But while now, in the dark night and with evil reports abroad, you can only spread alarm by taking any steps, to-morrow, when the sun brightens the skies, I shall be better able to act. The natives will clearly understand the object of our expedition and all misapprehensions be rendered impossible. I shall then have no difficulty in getting the requisite number of volunteers for the service. I should also like to command the expedition myself, if you will allow me to do so, and I could not undertake to start to-night."
The Colonel reflected for a few moments. The room was in complete silence, the only sounds audible being the hurried respiration of the doctor. At length he seemed to have arrived at a decision.
"You are right, Tomonggong, perfectly right, and I thank you for your advice. Nevertheless, I should have liked to commence the search to-night, for the sooner those poor fellows fall into my hands the less they will have to suffer. They will have to pay dearly enough for this excursion; it may perhaps cost them their lives."
"Yes, sir. Hatallah only knows how dearly," said the Chief with solemnity.
"Well," said the Colonel, "till to-morrow then. I shall expect news very early. But stay, I had better come to you and thus save time. I will be with you before daybreak, Tomonggong. I will now give orders for your departure." Thus saying, he left the room.
The doctor, left alone with the chief, rushed toward him and seized his hands. "They will have a start of six hours," he said with emotion.
"It is not much," suggested the Dayak.
"Sufficient, let us hope. Oh, how can I thank you!"
The Colonel re-entered at that moment and their confidence was interrupted.
After the Tomonggong had taken his leave, the two friends remained together to empty the bottle which had been opened.
"An awkward business," observed the Colonel, "devilishly awkward for those poor fellows, but scarcely less so for me. Besides the dangers which may attend my pursuit after them, I shall have to weather the reprimands from headquarters. You know our authorities always turn these matters against us. Whenever the Dutch government has a difficulty the first impulse of all in power is to look out for a scapegoat."
"But our Commander-in-Chief is not the man to do that."
"Oh, I am not afraid of him. The bother will come from higher sources. From Batavia will go the report to the war office of the Hague, that through the negligence of a colonel four European soldiers have escaped-in war time. They will be careful to add, 'Colonel severely reprimanded.' Then the Hague authorities will be satisfied because none of them can be held responsible."
"Not responsible," said the doctor, passionately, "not responsible. Why then the whole blame rests with the Hague for——"
"Tut, tut; no politics, I beg," said the Colonel. "Even if you are right, you are wrong; that is my experience in life. Come, it is late; let us retire, for day will begin early for us to-morrow."
They shook hands and the doctor left the room to seek his couch, but the Colonel, before retiring for the night, went the rounds once more to assure himself that all was safe.
For a moment he paused at the southern bastion. This work commanded the whole expanse of water formed by the confluence of the rivers Poeloe-Petak and Kapoeas-Moeroeng, about twelve hundred yards wide at this point. The night was lovely; the stars glittered in the dark blue sky and were brilliantly reflected in the water. The woods which bordered the banks stood out boldly against the dusky horizon. On the eastern banks of the river Poeloe-Petak the outlines of the Dayak dwellings could be traced between the green herbage and here and there the flame of a lamp glittered among the trees and shrubs.
Silence reigned around, broken only by the distant barking of some watchful dog and by the soft murmur of the river.
While the Colonel stood leaning against the parapet and gazing upon this charming scene the sounds of the titih were suddenly heard. The titih is the death bell of the Dayaks. The sounds are produced by a series of strokes upon four metal basins of different sizes. The first knell is struck when a death occurs; the second when the body is coffined; the third when the corpse is being carried to the grave, and the parting knell when the grave is closed. The titih is struck continuously during the progress of the funeral, but on the other occasions there are intervals of four or five minutes between the sounds, just like our passing bell. The continuous strokes of the funeral knell are gentle at first but are interrupted every two minutes by a loud bang, and the echo of that ting, ting, toong, along the broad streams of Borneo sounds extremely mournful and disposes one to melancholy.
The Colonel pricked up his ears at the first knell and tried to recollect whether anyone had died in the kampong; but his thoughts soon returned to the deserters. When the titih continued without intermission, he knew that a funeral was in prog- ress and this somewhat excited his curiosity. Not that it was of rare occurrence for the Dayaks to bury their dead at night. But the Colonel had recently requested the natives not to have any nocturnal funerals during war time except when absolutely unavoidable. This request, or rather command, had been hitherto respected, but now, now-it was very strange!
"Aha! I know," he said to himself, "I know. Tomonggong told me yesterday of two cases of cholera. One of the sufferers has perhaps succumbed; they are quite justified in disposing of their dead without delay."
A little while afterward two canoes were seen coming down from the kampong, decked out with bunting and illuminated by torches. As they drew nearer the hymns of the priestesses could be distinguished, accompanied by the muffled sounds of the small drums. Their elegy was borne across the river.
"Fly, soul of the departed, rise on the clouds. Fly, spirit of the dead, float upon the waters."
Everything was in the usual order. The song and the drumming proceeded from the first canoe. Immediately behind followed another boat containing the coffin. In order to be prepared for any emergency the Colonel called the guards and stationed them on the bastion, where he joined them. He also directed a non-commissioned officer to reconnoitre the approaching canoes and to be doubly watchful. His hail, "Who goes there?" was responded to and his order to land was immediately obeyed. He searched the first canoe, joked with the priestesses, but failed to discover anything suspicious. Neither did he see anything unusual on the second boat. A faint odor peculiar to the victims of cholera induced him to shorten the investigation. The canoes left the pier and soon the fort was well behind them. The Colonel followed them with his eyes for a long time and became lost in meditation when suddenly a head was seen to protrudè from beneath the roof of the second boat and a voice was heard exclaiming:
"Enfoncés les Hollandais-les têtes de fromage!
The Colonel instantly perceived how matters stood-the fugitives were hidden in the funeral cortege. He cried aloud to the oarsmen:
"Stop! Come back! Turn immediately!"
Again was heard the opprobrious epithet; this time followed. by a rifle shot which wounded a Javan soldier. The Colonel ordered the four-inch gun to be turned toward the canoes, placed it himself at the proper elevation and fired; but the night hung
dark and no sure aim could be taken. The shot struck the water in the rear of the second canoe, bounded over it, passed through 
The Night Funeral. the roof of the first boat and as it struck the water raised so great an upheaval as to nearly capsize both canoes. It was followed by a volley of rifle shot from the ramparts, which killed two of the oarsmen. But the current swept the boats rapidly away and before the soldiers had time to reload they had become lost in the intense darkness.
"That discharge has hit them," said the doctor, who had left his bed to see the cause of the commotion. "I heard a distinct cry from the canoes."
"Yes," replied the Colonel, "it has hit them, but—that is only the first part of the play. I ought not to have allowed myself to be talked over by the Tomonggong into postponing the pursuit until to-morrow. Perhaps what has just happened ought to have been prevented. Have you seen Troenosmito's wound?"
"Yes, it is only a graze."
"Well, let us retire. I know pretty well whither the deserters are bound. Early in the morning we will start in pursuit." The two men shook hands and soon a deep silence reigned through the fortress interrupted only by the regular tread of the sentry.