e succeeded in falling upon To' Kaya
unawares, and slaying him on the spot, all that he had longed for and
dreamed of, all that he desired for himself and for those whom he held
dear, all that he deemed to be of any worth, would be his for all his
years. And if he failed?--He dared not think of what his position would
then be; and yet it was this very thought that clung to him with such
persistence during the slow march. He saw himself hated and abhorred by
the people of the interior, who would then no longer have reason to fear
him; he saw himself deserted by To' Gajah, in whose eyes, he was well
aware, he was merely regarded as a tool, to be laid aside when use for
it was over; he saw himself in disgrace with the King, whose orders he
had failed to carry out; and he saw himself a laughing stock in the
land, one who had aspired and had not attained, one who had striven and
had failed, with that grim phantom of hereditary madness, of which he
was always conscious, stretching out its hand to seize him. All these
things he saw and feared, and his soul sank within him.

At last Penjum was reached, and To' Kaya's house was ringed about by Wan
Lingga's men. The placid moonlight fell gently on the sleeping village,
and showed Wan Lingga's face white with eagerness and anxiety, as he
gave the word to fire. In a moment all was noise and tumult. Wan
Lingga's men raised their war-yell, and shrieking 'By order of the
King!' fired into To' Kaya's house. Old To' Kaya, thus rudely awakened,
set his men to hold the enemy in check, and himself passed out of the
house in the centre of the mob of his frightened women-folk. He was not
seen until he reached the river bank, when he leaped into the stream,
and, old man that he was, swam stoutly for the far side. Shot after shot
was fired at him, and eight of them, it is said, struck him, though none
of them broke the skin, and he won to the far side in safety. Here he
stood for a moment, in spite of the hail of bullets with which his enemy
greeted his landing. He shook his angry old arm at Wan Lingga, shouted a
withering curse, took one sad look at his blazing roof-tree, and then
plunged into the forest.

When the looting was over, Wan Lingga's people dispersed in all
directions. Nothing, they knew, fails like failure, and the Lipis
people, who would have feared to avenge the outrage had Wan Lingga been
successful, would now, they feared, wreak summary punishment on those
who had dared to a