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 real 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.