Van Slyck glanced in quick appeal at his associate, but Muller's eyes were already lowering under Peter Gross's commanding glance. Unable to find a straw of excuse for holding the captain, the controlleur stammered:
"Certainly, mynheer. I will see you later, kapitein."
Even then Van Slyck lingered, afraid now to leave Muller alone. But the cold, gray eyes of Peter Gross followed him; they expressed a decision from which there was no appeal. Furious at Muller, furious at his own impotence, the captain walked slowly across the veranda. Half-way down the steps he turned with a glare of defiance, but thought better of it. Raging inwardly, and a prey to the blackest passions, he strode toward the stockade. The unhappy sentinel at the gate, a Javanese colonial, was dozing against the brass cannon.
"Devil take you, is this the way you keep guard?" Van Slyck roared and leaped at the man. His sword flashed from its scabbard and he brought the flat of the blade on the unhappy wretch's head. The Javanese dropped like a log.
"Bring that carrion to the guard-house and put some one on the gate that can keep his eyes open," Van Slyck shouted to young Lieutenant Banning, officer of the day. White to the lips, Banning saluted, and executed the orders.
In barracks that night the soldiers whispered fearfully to each other that a budjang brani (evil spirit) had seized their captain again.
CHAPTER XIII
A Fever Antidote
"You have found Bulungan a difficult province to govern, mynheer?" Peter Gross asked.