er by the wrist, would lead him back
to the house, arrange his mats for him, and go out quietly. Instead of
going away, Babalatchi, unconscious of Aissa's eyes, often sat again by
the fire, in a long and deep meditation. Aissa looked with respect on
that wise and brave man--she was accustomed to see at her father's
side as long as she could remember--sitting alone and thoughtful in
the silent night by the dying fire, his body motionless and his mind
wandering in the land of memories, or--who knows?--perhaps groping for a
road in the waste spaces of the uncertain future.

Babalatchi noted the arrival of Willems with alarm at this new accession
to the white men's strength. Afterwards he changed his opinion. He met
Willems one night on the path leading to Omar's house, and noticed later
on, with only a moderate surprise, that the blind Arab did not seem
to be aware of the new white man's visits to the neighbourhood of his
dwelling. Once, coming unexpectedly in the daytime, Babalatchi fancied
he could see the gleam of a white jacket in the bushes on the other side
of the brook. That day he watched Aissa pensively as she moved about
preparing the evening rice; but after awhile he went hurriedly away
before sunset, refusing Omar's hospitable invitation, in the name of
Allah, to share their meal. That same evening he startled Lakamba by
announcing that the time had come at last to make the first move in
their long-deferred game. Lakamba asked excitedly for explanation.
Babalatchi shook his head and pointed to the flitting shadows of moving
women and to the vague forms of men sitting by the evening fires in the
courtyard. Not a word would he speak here, he declared. But when the
whole household was reposing, Babalatchi and Lakamba passed silent
amongst sleeping groups to the riverside, and, taking a canoe, paddled
off stealthily on their way to the dilapidated guard-hut in the old
rice-clearing. There they were safe from all eyes and ears, and could
account, if need be, for their excursion by the wish to kill a deer, the
spot being well known as the drinking-place of all kinds of game. In
the seclusion of its quiet solitude Babalatchi explained his plan to
the attentive Lakamba. His idea was to make use of Willems for the
destruction of Lingard's influence.

"I know the white men, Tuan," he said, in conclusion. "In many lands
have I seen them; always the slaves of their desires, always ready to
give up their strength and their