SAIDJAH
Saidjah was about fifteen years old when his father ran away to Buitenzorg. He did not accompany him because he had plans of his own to carry out. He had heard that in Batavia there were rich gentlemen who would employ slender youths like him, if they were nimble footed, to sit on the rear seat of the two wheeled carriages. He had been told that he could earn money in this way. In two years he could earn enough money to buy two water buffaloes. This prospect pleased him. He walked along proudly like a person who carries something important in his head. He was on his way to see Adinda to tell her his plan.
“When I come back,” he explained, “we shall be old enough to marry—and then we shall have two buffaloes to do the plowing.”
“Good, Saidjah, I will be your wife when you come back. I will spin. I will weave and embroider sarongs.”
“I believe you, Adinda. And when I come back, I will call you a long way off—”
“Who could hear if we happened to be pounding rice in the village?”
“That is true. Then wait for me by the Djati
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