"First we shall talk of other things," she said.
At that moment the rattle of rifle-fire reached Peter Gross's ears.
"What is that?" he cried.
Koyala laughed, a low laugh of exultation. "That, mynheer, is the children of Bulungan driving the white peccaries from Borneo."
"Ah Sing has attacked?" Peter Gross could not help, in his excitement, letting a note of his dismay sound in his voice.
"Ah Sing and his pirates," Koyala cried triumphantly. "Wobanguli and the warriors of Bulungan. Lkath and his Sadong Dyaks. The Malays from the coast towns. All Bulungan except the hill people. They are all there, as many as the sands of the seashore, and they have the orang blanda from Holland, and the Javanese, and the loud-voiced orang blanda that you brought with you, penned in Van Slyck's kampong. None will escape."
"Thank God Carver's in the fort," Peter Gross ejaculated.
"But they cannot escape," Koyala insisted fiercely.
"We shall see," Peter Gross replied. Great as were the odds, he felt confident of Carver's ability to hold out a few days anyway. He had yet to learn of the artillery Ah Sing commanded.
"Not one shall escape," Koyala reiterated, the tigerish light glowing in her eyes. "Ah Sing has pledged it to me, Wobanguli has pledged it to me, the last orang blanda shall be driven from Bulungan." She clutched the hilt of her dagger fiercely—.