out warning, as it were, and thrilling
the heart of the beholders by the sudden movement. But they did not
separate at once. They lingered in their high place as if awaiting the
fall of complete darkness, a fit ending to their mysterious communion.
Jaffir had given Jorgenson the whole story of the ring, the symbol of a
friendship matured and confirmed on the night of defeat, on the night of
flight from a far-distant land sleeping unmoved under the wrath and fire
of heaven.

"Yes, Tuan," continued Jaffir, "it was first sent out to the white man,
on a night of mortal danger, a present to remember a friend by. I was
the bearer of it then even as I am now. Then, as now, it was given to me
and I was told to save myself and hand the ring over in confirmation of
my message. I did so and that white man seemed to still the very storm
to save my Rajah. He was not one to depart and forget him whom he had
once called his friend. My message was but a message of good-bye, but
the charm of the ring was strong enough to draw all the power of that
white man to the help of my master. Now I have no words to say. Rajah
Hassim asks for nothing. But what of that? By the mercy of Allah all
things are the same, the compassion of the Most High, the power of
the ring, the heart of the white man. Nothing is changed, only the
friendship is a little older and love has grown because of the shared
dangers and long companionship. Therefore, Tuan, I have no fear. But how
am I to get the ring to the Rajah Laut? Just hand it to him. The last
breath would be time enough if they were to spear me at his feet. But
alas! the bush is full of Tengga's men, the beach is open and I could
never even hope to reach the gate."

Jorgenson, with his hands deep in the pockets of his tunic, listened,
looking down. Jaffir showed as much consternation as his nature was
capable of.

"Our refuge is with God," he murmured. "But what is to be done? Has your
wisdom no stratagem, O Tuan?"

Jorgenson did not answer. It appeared as though he had no stratagem. But
God is great and Jaffir waited on the other's immobility, anxious but
patient, perplexed yet hopeful in his grim way, while the night flowing
on from the dark forest near by hid their two figures from the sight
of observing men. Before the silence of Jorgenson Jaffir began to talk
practically. Now that Tengga had thrown off the mask Jaffir did not
think that he could land on the beach without being attacked, captured,