The district in which the hadji lived had a population of about 100,000, made up of Dutch, Malays and Chinese. Back of the settlement lay the jungle; a dense virgin forest of trees that were bound together by a woven mass of creepers and vines. The trunks, rising straight and smooth for fifty or sixty feet, burst into foliage that formed a thick, green canopy, through which the sun rarely filtered. On the ground, the vines, palm ferns, tall grasses and rattan made a wall that only parangs, the native knives, cutting foot by foot, could penetrate. The heat of the open spaces in the tropics is blistering, but that of the jungle is damp and stifling; moisture accumulates, and the light breezes that blow overhead have no chance of moving the air below, which is filled with the smell of rotting vegetation. Especially in the morning, before the sun has a chance to bake the water out, it is a drenching business to go into the jungle.
Notwithstanding the climate, the sight of such country made me anxious to begin work, and I lost no time in reporting to the Dutch Resident. The Dutch are strict in their colonial government, and, for the most part, they have good reason to be strict. One white man who does not understand the natives and who has no consideration for them may start trouble that will end in an uprising. The trouble generally comes from a lack of regard for the native's feeling for his women. Though the Malays live a fairly loose life, they resent having a white man take their women and they generally vent their displeasure in murder. That, of course, means a government investigation, with ill-feeling rising on both sides. To the Dutch Resident I explained my purpose in wishing to live in the Malay quarter with the hadji, and he gave me permission, warning me that it would be revoked at the least sign of trouble.
Thereupon, with the hadji leading, I took my belongings to his house and settled down to become acquainted with the people. They regarded me curiously, but when the hadji introduced me by saying "E-tu-twan banyar bye. Dare be-tolé (This man is very good. He is true)," they accepted me without question. The word of a man who has made a pilgrimage to Mecca is not to be doubted and my dispute with Mahommed Ariff was told and retold until it became a wonderfully exaggerated legend with me as the hero. They disliked Ariff because he was forever swindling them when they captured animals.
It is not difficult to win the friendship of the natives, if you know how to treat them. If they like you, they become doglike in their devotion; they will do anything you tell them to do and believe whatever you say as though it were gospel. I studied them closely, learning their language and customs and carefully avoiding anything that might bring me into disfavor. Day after day, I went with them into the jungle, picking up bits of jungle-craft. Gradually I learned to see the things that they saw in the walls of green about us, and to interpret the sounds—the hum of insects, the call of birds, the chattering of monkeys and the cries of other animals—and I spent hours with them, squatting in their houses, busy with the rudiments of the Malay language.
Once during the eighteen months I spent with the hadji, I was haled before the Resident for an investigation, but the natives stuck by me valiantly and I was exonerated. The trouble started one evening when I was sitting on the hadji's veranda. There came a scream from one of the houses, and a native emerged, howling and swinging a knife, slashing at every one within reach—men, women and children. He was running amok, a victim of the strange homicidal mania fairly common among the Malays. When a man runs amok, he suddenly begins to kill and he does not care whom—his own family or people he has never seen before. The hadji yelled to me to shoot. I pulled out my revolver and fired, hitting the man in the left arm. He stopped for a moment; the other natives seized him and stabbed him to death. At the investigation, the hadji explained to the Resident that I was not responsible for the man's death and that I had acted on his suggestion, to save the lives of the natives. As the man had slashed about eight people before I shot, the Resident ended his investigation by thanking me and renewing my permission to live in the Malay quarter. I returned to the hadji's house more popular with the natives than ever before.
A native came running to the hadji's house one day with the news that he had seen a big snake. He said that it was at least fifty feet long and as big as a tree. Knowing the Malay habit of exaggerating, I put it down as about twenty feet long; but I gathered a crew of natives and we built a crate from the limbs of trees and bamboo, binding it together with green rattan. According to the native's tale, the snake had just swallowed a pig, and so, knowing that where he had first been seen, he would remain, sleeping and digesting his meal, we postponed the capture until the next morning.
A python always kills his food by coiling around it and crushing it to death; then he swallows it whole, slobbering so that it will pass his throat. During the digestive process, he generally becomes torpid and, without putting up much fight, submits to capture.
Before we went out for the snake, I told each man what he was to do, explaining carefully how I intended to get the snake into the crate. When I was sure that they understood, we started into the jungle, led by the native who made the discovery. I was surprised to find the largest snake I had ever seen. It looked at least thirty feet long and about eighteen inches in diameter. For a moment we stood there gasping.
The python was sleeping peacefully, digesting the pig. I called to the men and put them to work at staking the crate to the ground and securing it so that the snake could not lash it around. The crate was about eight feet long, six feet wide and two and one-half feet deep; just large enough to hold him and just small enough so that, once inside, he would not be able to get leverage and break it. Again I explained what each man was to do. Then I passed a rope through the crate, tying one end to a tree and preparing a running noose to be slipped around the snake's head when we were ready to draw him forward. Two more ropes were laid out, running from his tail. These we wrapped around trees on each side of the tail, and I stationed men at the ends, showing them how they were to pay out the rope as the snake was drawn toward the crate, keeping it taut enough to prevent him from lashing.
The python slept soundly through all these preparations. When we were ready, I gathered the men about me and cautioned them against becoming excited. I warned all those who had not been given work to do to stand back out of the way and not to approach unless we needed them.