had assembled. It was light enough for To' Kâya to be able to mark the terror in their eyes. He grinned at them evilly, snacking his lips. Men who are bent upon keeping alive, if possible, are always at an enormous disadvantage in the presence of one who is resolutely seeking death.
"This is indeed good," shouted To' Kâya. "Now at last shall I have my fill of stabbing and fighting," and thereupon he made a shambling, limping charge at the crowd, which wavered, broke, and fled in every direction, the majority of the fugitives pouring helter- skelter into Tunku Ngah's compound and closing the gate in the high bamboo fence behind them.
One of the hindermost was a man named Gĕnih, and to him To' Kâya shouted:
"O Gěnih! It profits the raja little that he gives you and such as you food both morning and evening. You are indeed bitter cowards. If you all fear me so greatly, go and seek some guns so that you may be able to kill me from afar off."
Genih, who had failed to get into Tungku Ngal's compound, took To' Kaya's advice and running to the Sultan's balai or hall of state, he cried to Tungku Musa, who was at once the uncle and principal ad- viser of the king, "Your servant, To' Kaya, bids us bring guns wherewith to slay him."
Now, at this moment, all was not well in the balai of the Sultan. When first the news of the amok had been noised abroad all the rajas and chiefs had assembled at the palace, and it had been unanimously decided that no action could be taken until the day
