ll keep faith, sahib. May kites pick our bones if we fail!"

Then there stepped into full view the renegade Mussulman and his
leader. They carried no guns; the chief wore his kriss.

[Illustration: THE TWO HALTED SOME TEN PACES IN FRONT OF THE CAVERN.
AND THE BELLIGERENTS SURVEYED EACH OTHER.]

"Tell him to leave that dagger behind!" cried the sailor imperiously.
As the enemy demanded a parley he resolved to adopt the conqueror's
tone from the outset. The chief obeyed with a scowl, and the two
advanced to the foot of the rock.

"Stand close to me," said Jenks to Iris. "Let them see you plainly, but
pull your hat well down over your eyes."

She silently followed his instructions. Now that the very crisis of
their fate had arrived she was nervous, shaken, conscious only of a
desire to sink on her knees, and pray.

One or two curious heads were craned round the corner of the rock.

"Stop!" cried Jenks. "If those men do not instantly go away I will fire
at them."

The Indian translated this order and the chief vociferated some
clanging syllables which had the desired effect. The two halted some
ten paces in front of the cavern, and the belligerents surveyed each
other. It was a fascinating spectacle, this drama in real life. The
yellow-faced Dyak, gaudily attired in a crimson jacket and sky-blue
pantaloons of Chinese silk--a man with the _beaute du diable_,
young, and powerfully built--and the brown-skinned white-clothed
Mahommedan, bony, tall, and grey with hardship, looked up at the
occupants of the ledge. Iris, slim and boyish in her male garments, was
dwarfed by the six-foot sailor, but her face was blood-stained, and
Jenks wore a six weeks' stubble of beard. Holding their Lee-Metfords
with alert ease, with revolvers strapped to their sides, they presented
a warlike and imposing tableau in their inaccessible perch. In the path
of the emissaries lay the bodies of the slain. The Dyak leader scowled
again as he passed them.

"Sahib," began the Indian, "my chief, Taung S'Ali, does not wish to
have any more of his men killed in a foolish quarrel about a woman.
Give her up, he says, and he will either leave you here in peace, or
carry you safely to some place where you can find a ship manned by
white men."

"A woman!" said Jenks, scornfully. "That is idle talk! What woman is
here?"

This question nonplussed the native.

"The woman whom the chief saw half a month back, sahib."

"Taung S'Ali was bewitched. I sl