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At first the Dyaks did not heed the stranger, so used were they to hurling contempt at island visitors, but when in answer to Papita's signal, as she stood up waving her disheveled wedding veil, there came a shrill whistle, they paused in dismay. In a very short time Papita and Piang were raised over the side of the Sabah, and General Beech and Governor Findy were questioning them.
Gradually a smile broke over her face, and she laughed softly. "Yes; Sicto will be sorry if he overtakes us," she whispered. Through the deepening night, a roar came to the fugitives. A deep, cruel howl; tom-toms beat a ragged and violent alarm; savage war-cries rent the air, bounding back from one echo to another. Papita's hand wavered at her paddle. Piang's stroke grew swifter, surer.
The outraged bridegroom had returned from his meditations to find himself brideless. "How will they come, Piang?" Papita's voice trembled. "Some by water, some by land. Work, Papita." And so the deadly tropic night closed about them. The little nut-shell sped down the river, past snags, skulking crocodiles, and many unseen dangers.
Piang's face grew hot, and his black eyes flamed. Could it be that the fiesta was poor Papita's wedding? He broke into a run and, panting and sweating, pushed farther into the darkening jungle; but the trail was evidently an abandoned one, for it brought up suddenly against a wall of thorns and closely woven vines.
"Well, it shall be Papita's after all!" Piang said and he smiled. He crept toward the little craft to see if there were paddles in it. There were two, and Piang suddenly remembered that part of the Dyak betrothal ceremony takes place upon the water. Long Piang pondered as he watched the preparations for Papita's betrothal.
The rings loosened, relaxed, and Tooloowee's well-aimed blow severed the awful head, which bounced and rolled to Papita's feet. When they carried the limp, lacerated body of Piang to his hut, there was lamenting and weeping in the barrio. Piang, their beloved charm boy was dead. Dead? Could Piang, the invincible, be killed? Papita crouched in the doorway.
Piang's newly acquired dignity would not permit him to respond to Papita's levity, but he secretly rejoiced, too, over the prospects of fun and excitement at the macasla. Runners were sent into the jungle to procure the all-important macasla herb, and that night the mixture was prepared. Macasla, chilli-peppers, carot, and tobah shrub were pounded together in an old dug-out canoe.
You know he has always hoped to prove Papita's noble birth; he wanted Piang to have her, so when the terrible Dato Ynoch's offer came " "Who speaks the name of our enemy in my house?" thundered Kali, glowering at the chattering women. "Bend to your tasks and have done with idle gossip." What difference did it make to Piang if he was alone, if he had only the barest clue to Papita's whereabouts?
Just at dusk, old Asin had been squatting in the doorway of his hut, dreamily watching Papita's little white fawn munching mangos under the fatal tree, when suddenly he saw it rise, struggle, suspended in the air, then disappear. Its pathetic cry was heard once, high above their heads. Then there was silence.
Papita's eyes were fastened on Piang, on the charm that dangled from his necklace of crocodile teeth; Piang was lost in Ganassi Peak. His eyes were filled with a divine awe as he silently faced his beloved peak, where dwelt his wonder man, the Hermit Ganassi.
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