The Argus Pheasant

Muller plumped heavily into a chair. Things had been going too rapidly for him, his heavy wits were badly addled, and he needed time to compose himself and get a fresh grip on the situation. There was only one other chair on the veranda. Perceiving this, Van Slyck sprang forward and placed it for Koyala, smiling satirically as he did so. Koyala frowned with annoyance, hesitated a moment, then accepted it. Van Slyck swung a leg over the veranda rail.

"Your message, my dear Koyala," he prompted. He used the term of endearment lingeringly, with a quick side glance at Muller, but the controlleur was oblivious to both.

"The message is for Mynheer Muller," Koyala announced icily.

"Ah? So?" Van Slyck swung the leg free and rose. "Then I am not needed. I bid the dear bother and sister adieux."

He made an elaborate French bow and started to leave. The embarrassed Muller made a hasty protest.

"Ho, kapitein!" he cried, "do not leave us. Donder en bliksem! the message may be for us both. Who is it from, Koyala?"

Van Slyck was divided between two desires. He saw that Muller was in a panic at the thought of being left alone with Koyala, and for that reason was keenly tempted to get out of sight as quickly as possible. On the other hand he was curious to hear her communication, aware that only a matter of unusual import could have called her from the bush. Undecided, he lingered on the steps.

"It was from Ah Sing," Koyala announced.

Van Slyck's indecision vanished. He stepped briskly back on the porch.

"From Ah Sing?" he exclaimed. "Mynheer Muller and I were just discussing his affairs. Does it concern the new resident we are to have?"

"It does," Koyala acknowledged.

"Who is it?" Muller and the captain cried in the same breath.

Koyala glanced vindictively at Van Slyck.

"You are sure that you will not sell me to him, mynheer kapitein?"

Van Slyck scowled. "Tell us about the resident," he directed curtly.

Koyala's eyes sparkled maliciously.

"The new resident, mynheer kapitein, seems to have a higher opinion of me than you have. You see, he has already persuaded the governor to withdraw the offer he made for my person."

Van Slyck bit his lip, but ignored the thrust.

"Then he's one of us?" he demanded bruskly.

"On the contrary, he is a most dangerous enemy," Koyala contradicted.

"Lieve hemel, don't keep us waiting," Muller cried impatiently. "Who is it, Koyala?"

"A sailor, mynheer," Koyala announced.

"A sailor?" Van Slyck exclaimed incredulously. "Who?"

"Mynheer Peter Gross, of Batavia."

Van Slyck and Muller stared at each other blankly, each vainly trying to recall ever having heard the name before.

"Pieter Gross, Pieter Gross, he must be a newcomer," Van Slyck remarked. "I have not heard of him before, have you, mynheer?"

"There is no one by that name in the colonial service," Muller declared, shaking his head. "You say he is of Batavia, Koyala?"

"Of Batavia, mynheer, but by birth and upbringing, and everything else, a Yankee."

"A Yankee?" her hearers chorused incredulously.

"Yes, a Yankee. Mate on a trading vessel, or so he was a year ago. He has been in the Indies the past seven years."

Van Slyck broke into a roar of laughter.

"Now, by the beard of Nassau, what joke is Chanticleer playing us now?" he cried. "He must be anxious to get that Yankee out of the way."

Neither Koyala nor Muller joined in his mirth. Muller frowned thoughtfully. There was the look in his eyes of one who is striving to recollect some almost forgotten name or incident.

"Pieter Gross, Pieter Gross," he repeated thoughtfully. "Where have I heard that name before?"

"Do you remember what happened to Gogolu of Lombock the time he captured Lieutenant de Koren and his commando?" Koyala asked. "How an American sailor and ten of his crew surprised Gogolu's band, killed a great many of them, and took their prisoners away from them? That was Pieter Gross."

"Donder en bliksem. I knew I had reason to remember that name," Muller cried in alarm. "We have no Mynheer de Jonge to deal with this time, kapitein. This Yankee is a fighter."

"Good!" Van Slyck exclaimed with satisfaction. "We will give him his bellyful. There will be plenty for him to do in the bush, eh, mynheer? And if he gets too troublesome there are always ways of getting rid of him." He raised his eyebrows significantly.

"This Yankee is no fool," Muller rejoined anxiously. "I heard about that Lombock affair – it was a master coup. We have a bad man to deal with, kapitein."

Van Slyck smiled cynically.

"Humph, mynheer, you make me tired. From the way you talk one would think these Yankees can fight as well as they can cheat the brown-skins. We will fill him up with Hollands, we will swell his foolish head with praise till it is ready to burst, and then we will engineer an uprising in the hill district. Koyala can manage that for us. When Mynheer, the Yankee, hears of it he will be that thirsty for glory there will be no holding him. We will start him off with our blessings, and then we will continue our business in peace. What do you think of the plan, my dear Koyala?"

"Evidently you don't know Mynheer Gross," Koyala retorted coldly.

"Do you?" Van Slyck asked, quick as a flash.

"I have seen him," Koyala acknowledged. "Once. It was at the mouth of the Abbas River." She described the incident.

"He is no fool," she concluded. "He is a strong man, and an able man, one you will have to look out for."

"And a devilish handsome young man, too, I'll wager," Van Slyck observed maliciously with a sidelong glance at Muller. The controlleur's ruddy face darkened with a quick spasm of jealousy, at which the captain chuckled.

"Yes, a remarkably handsome man," Koyala replied coolly. "We need handsome men in Bulungan, don't we, captain? Handsome white men?"

Van Slyck looked at her quickly. He felt a certain significance in her question that eluded him. It was not the first time she had indulged in such remarks, quite trivial on their face, but invested with a mysterious something the way she said them. He knew her tragic history and was sharp enough to guess that her unholy alliance with Ah Sing grew out of a savage desire to revenge herself on a government which had permitted her to be brought up a white woman and a victim of appetites and desires she could never satisfy. What he did not know, did not even dream, was the depth of her hate against the whole white race and her fixed purpose to sweep the last white man out of Bulungan.

"We do have a dearth of society here in Bulungan," he conceded. "Do you find it so, too?"

The question was a direct stab, for not a white woman in the residency would open her doors to Koyala. The Dyak blood leaped to her face; for a moment it seemed that she would spring at him, then she controlled herself with a powerful effort and replied in a voice studiedly reserved:

"I do, mynheer kapitein, but one must expect to have a limited circle when there are so few that can be trusted."