The servant replied with a couple of Chinese words, whereupon Lim Ho rose. He put on a kind of cap without peak, in shape not at all unlike a Scotch bonnet, then he snatched up a riding-whip and leaped into the saddle.
“Don’t go to sleep—keep good watch—mind,” he cried to his servant as he rode off, and setting spurs to his horse he was soon out of sight.
The main road which he took was a much longer one than the narrow foot-path which Dalima had chosen; but by starting thus early he knew he could easily get before her. He did not know that before she could set off to her father’s bedside the poor girl would have a good deal of sewing to do, and he thought therefore that he had to hurry in order to be in time at the hut. But his horse was a fine animal of Persian breed, and he felt confident that it would bring him to the spot before Dalima could possibly reach it.
It was about half-past three when he dismounted and joined Singomengolo, whom he found waiting for him.
The pair of villains sat down to consult about the best way of carrying out their infamous attempt. During this consultation Lim Ho repeatedly showed signs of impatience at Dalima’s unexpected delay. They were still talking together when the day began to dawn, and presently the sun rose, when, of a sudden, a dreadful outburst was heard in the far distance—a noise was heard of yelling, of rattling, of banging—it seemed as if the world was coming to an end. Lim Ho started up in terror from the mat upon which he was seated by the side of the opium spy.
“What on earth may that be?” he cried.
“Oh,” replied Singomengolo as calmly as possible, “that is nothing at all—only the toean Controller of Banjoe Pahit going on a pig-hunt—the dessa folk of that place and of Kaligaweh are beginning to beat up the game.”
“How do you know that?” asked Lim Ho.
“I was at Kaligaweh yesterday, and there I met the Controller and the company he has with him; they came to make the necessary arrangements for the day’s hunting.”
“You were at Kaligaweh?” asked Lim Ho.