Peter Gross shook his head while his gaze met hers frankly. "I do not recollect," he said. "I surely did not laugh at you—I do not know what it was—" A light broke upon him. "Ay, to be sure, I remember, now. It was a Dyak boy with a mountain goat. He was drinking milk from the teats. Don't you recall?"
"You are trying to deceive me," Koyala cried angrily. "You laughed because—because—"
"As God lives, it is the truth!"
Koyala placed the point of her dagger over Peter Gross's heart.
"Orang blanda," she said, "I have sworn to kill you if you lie to me in any single particular to-day. I did not see that whereof you speak. There was no boy, no goat. Quick now, the truth, if you would save your life."
Peter Gross met her glance fearlessly.
"I have told you why I laughed, Koyala," he replied. "I can tell you nothing different."
The point of the dagger pricked the resident's skin.
"Then you would rather die?"
Peter Gross merely stared at her. Koyala drew a deep breath and drew back the blade.