“I suppose so, Kandjeng toean,” replied the dessa-chief with a forced smile.
“That is a pretty good number I think—is it not, Wedono?” remarked van Rheijn. “Do you think,” he continued, “that we have pretty well exterminated them?”
“Pretty nearly,” answered the wedono. “A number of our people have gone after the pigs that broke away and have dispatched several of them. There are but a very few left and they have sought for refuge in the high mountain land, so that I do not think that we shall be troubled any more by that mischievous brood.”
“Well then, my friends,” cried Verstork elated at the success of his expedition, “we may say that we have done a good morning’s work. Here’s good luck to Banjoe Pahit and the dessa-folk!”
All the guests sprang to their feet and raised their glasses. Van Rheijn thrust a tumbler of beer into the wedono’s hand—and with a joyous “hip, hip, hip, hurrah!” a toast was drunk to the inhabitants of the district who had been delivered from their troublesome visitors.
“Has the Kandjeng toean any further orders for me?” asked the wedono. “If not I will beg leave to retire.”
“Yes, Wedono—there is something else. In the entrance of the Djoerang Pringapoes there lies a very big old boar, you will know him by his long tusks—I very much wish to have the head.”
“Excellent, excellent,” exclaimed van Beneden, “Une hure de sanglier à la sauce piquante, that will be a rare treat!”
“Hush, August!” said Verstork and, turning again to the wedono he continued, “Then further, I want you at once to open the inquiry in the matter of Dalima.”
“Certainly, Kandjeng toean.”