y "amok"? The wise adviser would be the first victim, no doubt,
and death would be his reward. And underlying the horror of this
situation there was the danger of those meddlesome fools, the white men.
A vision of comfortless exile in far-off Madura rose up before
Babalatchi. Wouldn't that be worse than death itself? And there was
that half-white woman with threatening eyes. How could he tell what an
incomprehensible creature of that sort would or would not do? She knew
so much that she made the killing of Dain an impossibility. That much
was certain. And yet the sharp, rough-edged kriss is a good and discreet
friend, thought Babalatchi, as he examined his own lovingly, and put it
back in the sheath, with a sigh of regret, before unfastening his canoe.
As he cast off the painter, pushed out into the stream, and took up his
paddle, he realised vividly how unsatisfactory it was to have women mixed
up in state affairs. Young women, of course. For Mrs. Almayer's mature
wisdom, and for the easy aptitude in intrigue that comes with years to
the feminine mind, he felt the most sincere respect.

He paddled leisurely, letting the canoe drift down as he crossed towards
the point. The sun was high yet, and nothing pressed. His work would
commence only with the coming of darkness. Avoiding the Lingard jetty,
he rounded the point, and paddled up the creek at the back of Almayer's
house. There were many canoes lying there, their noses all drawn
together, fastened all to the same stake. Babalatchi pushed his little
craft in amongst them and stepped on shore. On the other side of the
ditch something moved in the grass.

"Who's that hiding?" hailed Babalatchi. "Come out and speak to me."

Nobody answered. Babalatchi crossed over, passing from boat to boat, and
poked his staff viciously in the suspicious place. Taminah jumped up
with a cry.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, surprised. "I have nearly stepped
on your tray. Am I a Dyak that you should hide at my sight?"

"I was weary, and--I slept," whispered Taminah, confusedly.

"You slept! You have not sold anything to-day, and you will be beaten
when you return home," said Babalatchi.

Taminah stood before him abashed and silent. Babalatchi looked her over
carefully with great satisfaction. Decidedly he would offer fifty
dollars more to that thief Bulangi. The girl pleased him.

"Now you go home. It is late," he said sharply. "Tell Bulangi that I
s