When the rangkan came alongside the canoe, the Poenan chief told our adventurers that upon the arrival of his party at kotta Baroe on the preceding night, they had found everything in the greatest confusion. There was a state barge moored to the shore and a throng of people assembled, as if some important enterprise was in progress. Impelled by curiosity, Harimaoung Boekit had gone ashore and learned that a white officer from Kwala Kapoeas, whom he described as carrying a long mandauw, had called the populace together and ordered them to pursue a canoe which contained some escaped fugitives. He had made a requisition for two hundred and fifty armed men, with the necessary complement of canoes—a demand which caused no little dissatisfaction. The Poenan, upon hearing all this, immediately concluded that they meant to capture the very men who had so generously spared his own life, and he at once determined to warn and if necessary to assist them. He therefore crept back to his rangkan as quietly as he had left it, and upon regaining it beckoned to some of his mates and at once repeated his information. When Harimaoung Boekit had ended his narrative, the fugitives looked at each other in anxious amazement. They had never expected to be followed by the Dutch so closely and so quickly. They had in fact calculated that they were at least ten days in advance of their pursuers. What was now to be done? “On, on!” Wienersdorf cried, “our only safety is in flight.” “No,” Johannes said, “since the Colonel is so close upon us flight can be of little use. He has decidedly left kotta Baroe by this time, and having impressed a sufficient number of natives into his service, he will have a larger complement of oarsmen than we.” “But what else can we do?” Johannes did not answer, but addressing the Poenan chief, he asked, “Were there any white men among the Commander’s crew?” “I looked most carefully,” said the Poenan, “but could not discern a single paleface except the one you call the Colonel.” “No white soldiers among them; that is worth knowing. But perhaps he has an escort of Javan soldiers, who are even less easy to deal with,” Johannes muttered to himself. “Were any of them armed?” he further asked. “The paleface carried a small gun in his hand and a slave bearing a rifle was continually following close behind him. The rest were armed with their mandauws and most of them had a blow pipe for poisoned arrows or a lance. The chief of Kwala Kapoeas, whom I know well, was the only one who carried a rifle. But—” The Poenan now whispered something to Johannes. “That can be tried,” the latter answered, his face brightening, and addressing his companions, he said, “If we can only reach kotta Djangkan, our chances will be better and we may hope again. Now, row on!”