This sentence uttered the first thing in the morning was really the continuation of the conversation held after the escape of the head-hunter. “Morte la bête, mort le venin,” was the opinion of the Walloon, given in his own language for want of knowledge of its Arabic equivalent. When it was quite daylight the occupants of the raft counted the bodies of their assailants who had fallen under the fire of the Europeans. There were fourteen, including the one pierced by the knife of Schlickeisen. Their weapons and suits of mail became the spoils of the victors; the bodies, under pressure of necessity, were let down into the waters of the lake. “An offering to Djata,” Dalim grinned. When this funeral was finished and mutual congratulations had been exchanged, the attention of our adventurers was drawn to three canoes visible at the junction of the canal and the river. They were terribly alarmed when they observed the Dutch flag displayed from the stern of the first two canoes. It was certain that they were being followed and that their experience of the past was only child’s play compared with what they might now expect. Breathless with alarm and anxiety they waited for further revelations. Bapa Andong, not being able to explain the emotion of his companions, instead of seeing danger, saw certain help from those canoes in the event of the reappearance of the Poenans. He therefore, assisted by his son, cried out lustily three times, “Come this way, quick! ahoy!” The reader will certainly have divined who had brought those canoes into the lake. It was Damboeng Papoendeh, whom he saw depart from Kwala Kapoeas and who now appeared on the scene. The young chief in his intense eagerness had set out for soengei Mantangei, and had employed the utmost expedition in his pursuit of the deserters. There he had heard of the struggle with the snake and the subsequent firing at the male inhabitants and became convinced that the fugitives had sailed up the Mantangei in order to reach the Doesson. Although inclined at first to disbelieve this statement, the people were so positive and circumstantial that he could not doubt further. He therefore resolved to sail for the same destination. After travelling on the Mantangei for a whole day he arrived at a small kampong called Takisan. Here he was obliged to stop in consequence of the place being under the ban of the maroetas. Maroetas means unclean, and a house, a village, or even a whole district may be proscribed and pronounced unclean in consequence of being the scene of death, infectious disease or any contaminating influence. When a house has become maroetas it is simply closed and the ladder removed from it. Its inhabitants dare not leave it nor may they receive visitors. If a village or district has become maroetas all its roads and pathways are blocked and may not be opened under penalty of death.