Toeaan!—Toeaaan!—Toeaaaan!—  
Such were the most unwelcome sounds which, a few hours later, were heard in the hut in which all our friends lay heavily sleeping.
 
Gentle sleep had, at length, taken compassion on poor van Nerekool also. For a long time after his conversation with Verstork, he had not been able to close an eye; and had been tumbling and tossing about and making the crazy couch creak and groan to such an extent that Leendert Grashuis and August van Beneden, who were close beside him, had uttered many an angry exclamation:
 
“For heaven’s sake keep quiet! don’t keep rolling about like that—it is enough to make a fellow sea-sick—” and then again:
 
“The majesty of the law seems uncommonly restless to-night; perhaps the mosquitoes trouble it, or an unquiet conscience, or a fit of the blues.”
 
But at length, thank God, Charles had fallen into a deep sleep; he was not destined, however, very long to enjoy that blissful rest.
 
“Toeaan! Toeaaan!” Thus once again the voice began to cry. It was the voice of Verstork’s servant who had got the watchman of the guard-house to wake him, and was now very cautiously trying to rouse his master out of his sleep.
 
But the Javanese servant felt that he was engaged in a very ticklish duty; and he set about it with all the circumspection which he was aware such unpleasant duties required.
 
He knew, by sad experience, that European gentlemen are apt to lose their temper when suddenly, at a very early hour, they are aroused out of a delightful sleep; therefore, on all such occasions the wily Javanese serving-man preferred to keep at a respectful distance from his Kandjeng toean, who, he knew, might at such a time be easily moved to raise his hand and deal him a sound box on the ears for his trouble. Not that Verstork was at all given to such rough usage of his servants; on the contrary, he was known and beloved among the natives for his kindly consideration, and for the coolness [205]of his temper. But this was a wholly exceptional occasion, and one could never tell what the sudden irritation of being roughly shaken out of a pleasant slumber might produce. It was very easy to get a good slap in the face, and therefore the astute Javanese prudently kept himself at a safe distance.
 
“Toeaan! Toeaaan!” he ventured to say again in a very intense drawling whisper. But Verstork did not hear him.
 
“Toeaan! Kandjeng toeaan!”
 
Still not a word!
 
Then the servant very cautiously crept up to the couch. When he was close to his master he again cried out, in a still more subdued and still more drawling voice, “Toeaaan! toeaaaan!”
 
Still Verstork stirred not a limb, only van Nerekool seemed to have caught the sound, and was beginning to move about restlessly.
 
Then the man, very gently—so gently that it could not disturb the sleeper—began to fold back that part of the rug which covered his master’s feet. The faint glimmer of the lamp which hung dangling from one of the rafters, just allowed him to see what he was about. When he had laid bare one of Verstork’s feet, he began very, very gently to tickle his master’s great-toe, while in the same cautious manner he again whispered “Toeaaan! toeaaaan!” and seemed, by the very humility of his voice, to beg pardon for the liberty he was taking in rousing his high and mighty master.
 
This tickling of the toe had, at once, the desired effect. Starting up Verstork sat up and cried:
 
“Who is there?” As he said these words he put his hand to his foot, evidently fearing that a snake had touched him. Indeed, the chilly and leathery skin of a native may very easily convey such an impression, especially on a man who is but half awake.
 
“Who is there?” he cried again. But by this time the Javanese servant had, with a bound, jumped away out of the possible reach of his master’s hand, and from the furthest corner of the hut he said: “It is I, Kandjeng toean!”
 
“What do you want?” roared the Controller, now thoroughly aroused, and not in the sweetest temper.
 
“It is now four o’clock, and the dessa people are all waiting.”
 
“Is that all?” growled Verstork, who thought that his rest [206]had been very unnecessarily disturbed. Who knows what absurdity he might in his drowsiness have added, had not the “toeaan, toeaan” of his servant, and the subsequent noise awakened van Beneden also, who was sleeping quite close to him.
 
He jumped up at once, and the moment he was awake began, as the Resident might perhaps have said, to turn up all hands.
 
“Come boys!” he shouted cheerily “Come boys, get up all of you!” as he threw himself from his bed with such energy as made the slight bamboo structure sway and creak as if it had been rocked by an earthquake.
 
“What’s the matter, what’s up?” cried several voices starting out of sleep.
 
“What’s up?” cried van Beneden. “There’s nothing up! You get up, all of you, as fast as you can. It is four o’clock, and the dessa folk are all ready for the chase.”
 
That word acted like magic. In a twinkling all were on their legs. They dressed, washed, combed, brushed themselves as well as one can perform all these processes in the interior of a dessa, which offers no great facilities for an elaborate toilet to Europeans who have passed the night in a small country hut.
 
For washing, indeed, there was no convenience at all—the only basin in the place was a mere potsherd. But, all were anxious to be off, and like soldiers who, in the field, have not always Sèvres or even Delt at command, they did the best they could, and soon completed their hasty toilet. Diogenes, the Greek philosopher of Sinope, had frequently, no doubt, dressed himself in much the same fashion. In a few moments all were ready, even van Nerekool who was bent upon seeking some relief for mental pain in physical exertion.
 
When they stepped out of the cabin they saw the entire male population seated cross-legged on the village green, trying to protect themselves from the cold morning air by drawing their sarongs as far as possible over their shoulders. Every man had brought his lance, and had stuck it upright before him into the ground. Every one of them held a huge rattle, an instrument very like that with which our old watchmen used to murder sleep while they pretended to keep guard over the sleepers.
 
The moon was, by this time, casting her beams under the branches of the Wariengien tree, and, as the pale light shone [207]upon that strange group of human beings seated there in a crouching posture, it illustrated most vividly the theory of Darwin, so very much did that assembly look like a great conclave of apes.
 
“Are all your men here, Loerah?” asked Verstork.
 
“Yes, Kandjeng toean.”
 
“Very good. Then send one part of them round by the maize fields of the dessa, let the second division spread itself to the westward over the neck of the Dojerang Pringapoes, and let the rest go right into the ravine.”
 
“Yes, Kandjeng toean—But—!”
 
“Well, but what?” asked Verstork, noticing the Loerah’s hesitation.
 
“May not the animals,” said the chief, “thus make their escape through the eastern side of the ravine?”
 
“How so, Loerah?” said Verstork. “You have heard, I suppose, that the people from Banjoe Pahit will occupy the whole of the eastern side, and part even of the western side of the ravine? Very good, now we understand each other I hope. We shall get on horseback at once, and will post ourselves in the upper part of the pass, and, if our instructions have been properly carried out, the whole of the game must come that way. Now, just listen carefully to what I have to tell you, Loerah.”
 
“Yes, Kandjeng toean.”
 
“As soon as we have got to the upper part of the ravine we shall fire a shot.”
 
“Shall we hear it, sir, right down at the bottom?”
 
“You are right, Loerah, quite right, it is a good distance—perhaps too far—Well then, I will tell you what you must do. As soon as day begins to break—but, mind you, before the sun has fairly risen—you will set your beaters to work. But, whatever you do, take care that the beasts have the road to the ravine left open to them.”
 
“Yes, Kandjeng toean,” was the invariable answer of the Loerah, always spoken in the most respectful tone.
 
Then in the deepest silence the beaters betook themselves to their posts while the European horsemen took the road to Banjoe Pahit.
 
As yet it was quite dark, so that the horses had to proceed at a very slow walk. This very moderate pace was absolutely necessary, because the road which they had to follow was a narrow path leading through the flooded rice fields, and the [208]slightest deviation might have led to a highly unpleasant mud-bath. Presently, however, a faint streak of light was beginning to show itself on the eastern horizon. At first it was all but imperceptible, it seemed like a faint reflection of the waning moonlight; but gradually it became broader and deeper, then is began to spread a fiery glow over the eastern sky, and made the stars, which were still brightly twinkling in the zenith, to pale and fade away. The narrow path kept winding upwards; for Banjoe Pahit, towards which the riders were making their way, lay on much higher ground than Kaligaweh which was situated on the low foreshore. As the dawning light grew clearer and brighter, the horsemen were able to mend their pace, and soon the horses were going along at a good sharp trot, impelled, in a measure, by the instinct which told them that they were heading in the direction of their stables.
 
The upper end of the ravine was reached in good time, and the horsemen dismounted and gave their beasts in charge of a couple of Javanese servants who had come to meet them along with the body of beaters from Banjoe Pahit to which Mokesuep also had joined himself. These men at once took the horses home to the dessa.
 
It was not yet full daylight. The western sky was still a deep dark blue; but in the East the dawn was clothing itself in all the brilliant hues which herald the near approach of the perfect day. On all sides trees and bushes grew in the wildest disorder, and in their branches birds innumerable were piping and warbling, each, in his own way, sending up his hymn of praise to the great Creator. Leaves, twigs, boughs, flowers, and grass-blades, all were thickly covered with the tiniest possible specks of dew; and, as the light gradually brightened in the East, seemed bathed as it were in molten silver.
 
In spite of their impatience to begin their work upon the game, our young friends could not help pausing for a few moments in order to admire the magnificent spectacle before them, and to enjoy the delightful freshness of that glorious time which immediately precedes a sunrise; when suddenly, very far in the distance, was heard the confused noise of a most frightful tumult.
 
“There they go!” cried Verstork, “those are our beaters, what a row the fellows are making to be sure.”
 
The natives were indeed hard at it, springing their rattles, banging on bamboos, yelling and screaming in a manner which drowned every other sound in nature, especially in that solemn morning hour when the orb of day is just about to rise. [209]
 
At first the noise was heard as a mere confused hum very far away in the distance; but, as it gradually drew nearer and nearer, it became so exciting that even poor van Nerekool, forgetting his woes for a while, ran up and down clutching his rifle with trembling hand, and some of his companions, more excited even than he was, had their weapons at full cock, ready to open fire at a moment’s notice.
 
“Now then, my friends,” said Verstork, trying to calm down all this unnecessary flurry; “pray keep quiet. We have plenty of time before us. Please all keep cool, or we shall have some accident with those firearms.”
 
“Are we in a good position here?” asked Grashuis.
 
“We are standing too close together it strikes me,” remarked van Beneden.
 
“I intend to take you a little further into the ravine,” said Verstork.
 
So they all advanced some fifty or hundred yards along a steep pathway which ran winding down through shaggy bushes and rocky boulders. Just by the side of that rugged path, the brook Banjoe Pahit began its downward course along its bed of rocks. It was a wonderfully beautiful little stream; its waters of the purest crystal went dancing from crag to crag, forming, in one place, a pleasant little basin or pool, at another tumbling down in foaming cataracts and splashing waterfalls, then, suddenly and mysteriously, disappearing altogether for a while amid............