At dawn he returned to Haji Mih's house. Here he halted to bandage his wounds with the rags of cotton that had been bound about some rolls of mats and pillows, which Haji Mih had removed from the house at the alarm of fire. Then he shouted to the men within the house to come out and fight with him anew, but no one came, and he laughed aloud and went on down the road till he came to Tŭngku Pa's house. Tŭngku Pa and a man named Sĕmäil were in the verandah, and when the alarm was raised that To’ Kâya was coming, Tŭngku Pa's wife rushed to the door, and bolted it on the inside, while her husband yammered to be let in.
When To’ Kâya saw him, he cried to him as he would have cried to an equal:
'O Pa! I have waited for thee the long night through though thou camest not. I have much desired to fight with a man of rank. At last we have met, and I shall have my desire.'
Sĕmäil at once made a bolt of it, but To’ Kâya was too quick for him, and as he leaped down, the spear took him through the body, and he died. Then Tŭngku Pa stabbed down at To’ Kâya from the verandah and struck him in the groin, the spear head becoming bent in the muscles, so that it could not be withdrawn. Now was Tŭngku Pa's opportunity, but instead of seizing it and rushing in upon To’ Kâya to finish him with his kris, he let go the handle of the spear, and fled to a large water jar, behind which he sought shelter. To’ Kâya tugged at the spear, and at length succeeded in wrenching it free, and Tŭngku Pa, seeing this, broke cover from behind the jar, and took to his heels. To’ Kâya was too lame to attempt to overtake him, but he cried out:
'He, Pa! Did the men of old bid thee fly from thy enemies?'
Tŭngku Pa halted and turned round. 'I am only armed with a kris, and have no spear as thou hast,' he said.
'This house is thine,' said To’ Kâya. 'If thou dost desire arms, go up into the house, and fetch as many as thou canst carry, while I await thy coming.'
But Tŭngku Pa had had enough, and he turned and fled at the top of his speed.
'Hah! Hah! Hah! Ho! Ho! Ho!' laughed To’ Kâya. 'Is this, then, the manner in which the men of the rising generation fight their enemies?'
Seeing that Tŭngku Pa was in no wise to be tempted or shamed into giving battle, To’ Kâya went past the spot where the body of Ma’ Chik still lay, until he came to the pool of blood which marked the place where Tŭngku Long Pĕndêkar had come by his death. Standing there, he cried to Tŭngku Îtam who was within the house: