“You doubt whether I have seen rightly,” was the passionate reply of the Colonel. “I have even seen more than these guns. The principal passages leading to the kotta are planted with spikes and rendered impassable by pits, so that an assault is most difficult. All this has taken time to accomplish and I very much fear that I have no reason to be satisfied with some of my younger brothers. Speaking in the mildest terms, they have been opposing their elder brother.” Both Tomonggongs remained speechless for a few minutes, their emotion being distinctly visible. The face of old Nikodemus displayed a feeling of grief and pain, while that of the other was drawn into angry wrinkles, his eyes rolling wildly and betraying the fearful passion raging in his bosom. “It is a great untruth!” he screamed, jumping up as if electrified. Nikodemus, however, took him by the hand, compelling him to resume his seat. The Colonel witnessed this scene, which lasted for a few seconds only, with some surprise. He felt that he had gone too far in his remarks. Then ensued a painful silence—that silence which is more eloquent among Eastern tribes than the most violent utterance. At last Nikodemus spoke: “The words spoken just now,” he said, with a deeply affected voice, “were painful, but I am convinced they did not come from the heart. But the Colonel forgets the deserters. I have not the least doubt but that they have found a refuge at kotta Djangkan. How they have succeeded in gaining the confidence of the people is a mystery to me. But everything has taken place through their influence and it is they who have supervised these operations.” The Colonel reflected for a few minutes. “Yes, they are brave boys,” he muttered inaudibly, “capable of anything. Ah! I have not caught them yet.” And turning to both chiefs he said, cordially offering them his hand, “My younger brothers, you may be right. Pardon the anger I just now displayed; but my heart was bitter. At that moment I thought of the blood already spilled and yet to be spilled in consequence of this dispute with kotta Djangkan.” Both Tomonggongs bowed their heads and cordially pressed the offered hand. The Dayak is never vindictive, and soon forgets and forgives if only met half way. They were still consulting together when the return of the messenger was reported. They all arose, showing the greatest excitement. The messenger respectfully handed his message to the Colonel, saying: “This is for you, sir.” The Colonel took the parcel, anxiously undid the string, opened the pisang leaf and turned deathly pale when he saw the torn pieces of paper which he recognized but too well. “And what message did you bring with you?” he asked. “Nothing but this: that whenever I dared to bring similar letters they would cut me to pieces. On hearing that I ran away as fast as I could.” “Who spoke to you?” “A tall Dayak whom I did not recognize.” “Have you seen any palefaces?” “Not one, sir!”