"Who else?" Van Schouten growled. "Always the witch-woman. That spawn of Satan, Koyala, is at the bottom of every uprising we have in Borneo."
"That is what we get for letting half-breeds mingle with whites in our mission schools," Vanden Bosch observed bitterly.
The governor scowled. "That folly will cost the state five hundred gulden," he remarked. "That is the price I have put on her head."
The general pricked up his ears. "H-m, that should interest Mynheer Muller," he remarked. "There is nothing he likes so well as the feel of a guilder between his fingers."
The governor snorted. "Neen, generaal," he negatived. "For once he has found a sweeter love than silver. The fool fairly grovels at Koyala's feet, Sachsen tells me."
"So?" Vanden Bosch exclaimed with quickened interest. "They say she is very fair."
"If I could get my hands on her once, the Argus Pheasant's pretty feathers would molt quickly," Van Schouten snarled. His fingers closed like an eagle's talons.
"Argus Pheasant, Bintang Burung, the Star Bird—'tis a sweet-sounding name the Malays have for her," the general remarked musingly. There was a sparkle in his eye—the old warrior had not lost his fondness for a pretty face. "If I was younger," he sighed, "I might go to Bulungan myself."
The governor grunted.
"You are an old cock that has lost his tail-feathers, generaal," he growled. "This is a task for a young man."