“All right,” cried the young men with one voice; “lead on, we follow you.”
There was but one of the little party who ventured to ask: “Is it quite safe, do you think?”
That man was Mokesuep; but his objection was lost to the others. They had already followed Verstork’s example, and digging their spurs in their horses’ flanks were tearing along the road to Kaligaweh.
Mokesuep had not, however, made up his mind. He was not quite so rash as that. Dreadful tales of “Amokh runners” were crossing his brain. For a moment or two he stood irresolute not well knowing what he had better do; but just then the shrieks redoubled while the gongs were beaten furiously. That was quite enough for him. Thought he to himself: “In such cases it is most prudent to take care and keep a whole skin.” So he turned his horse, gave it the spurs and galloped off to Banjoe Pahit instead of to Kaligaweh.
As they were riding to Kaligaweh, Verstork thought it well to caution his friends by telling them that in cases of Amokh running the thing is to be on one’s guard, and that fear and panic only serve to make matters worse and increase the danger. “At all events,” said he, “keep your revolvers ready.”
His caution was, however, not needed. When the horsemen came racing into the dessa they met a few frightened women clasping their little ones to their breast as if to protect them; but all the men were standing with lance or kris in hand drawn up around a little hut which was closed, and about which there was nothing in any way remarkable.
“If he comes out we must catch him on our lances,” was the cry.
“What is all this confusion about?” cried Verstork, leaping from his horse, throwing the bridle to one of the bystanders, and stepping into the ring.
“Setrosmito has been running Amokh,” was the reply from all sides.
“Setrosmito, how is it possible?” muttered the Controller, inaudibly.