"I, mynheer? I am a Dyak of Bulungan," she said.
"You are half a daughter of my people," Peter Gross corrected. "You have had the training of a white woman. Whether you are friend or foe, you shall always be a white woman to me, juffrouw."
A film came across Koyala's eyes. She started to reply, checked herself, and then spoke, lashing the words out between set teeth.
"Promise upon promise, lie upon lie, that has been the way with you whites. I hate you all, I stand by my people."
Swift as the bird whose name she bore, she flashed through the door. Peter Gross took a half-step forward to restrain her, stopped, and walked slowly back to his chair.
"She will come back," he murmured to himself; "she will come back. I have sown the seed, and it has sunk in fertile ground."
In the banyan grove Koyala, breathing rapidly because of her swift flight, came upon Kapitein Van Slyck. The captain rose eagerly as she darted through the cane.
"What did he say?" he asked. "Did he try to make love to you?"
Koyala turned on him furiously. "You are a fool, we are all fools!" she exclaimed. "He is more than a match for all of us. I will see you later, when I can think; not now." She left the clearing.