The condemned men never quite knew when their last moment had come, for they sat placidly smoking until Subu approached from behind them, and with one blow of the kris sent them into eternity. “You white people fret too much about trifles, and that makes you frightened of death,” Subu would say. “We take it just as it comes, and consider that Allah has chosen the best moment to end our lives. Many such murderers have I sent to their peace,” he often said to me. “I am an old man now, but I hope Allah in His mercy will permit me to kris ten more before He gathers me up into His paradise. Just ten more, Rajah Ranee, and then I shall consider my work is done.” Poor old Subu, in spite of his bloodthirsty words he possessed a tender heart. He was gentle and kind to children and animals, indeed, to all who were desolate and oppressed. The people of Sarawak recognize the justice of capital sentences in the most wonderful way. I remember one case in point. The Rajah has a battalion of drilled men, some five hundred in number, recruited from the Dyaks and Malays of Sarawak, together with a few Sikhs, who voluntarily come forward to join this paid force. The Commandant in charge of this battalion--called the Sarawak Rangers--is nearly always a retired officer from the British army, and the Rajah usually engages a retired Gunner from one of His Majesty’s ships, as Instructor, to teach the men the use of guns. The men are very apt at drill, and are as active as cats in the manipulation of guns. They all take great pride in their work, and particularly enjoy the management of field pieces. Their uniform is of white drill with black facings; they wear forage caps, and are armed with Snider carbines. Whenever the Rajah goes on expeditions, and sometimes on his journeys up the rivers, a certain number of these drilled men form his bodyguard. They also act as sentries in the Palace and other Government buildings in Kuching.