my brother, the Ruler. He spoke in council, his courage was great,
he was the chief of many villages round the great lake that is in the
middle of our country as the heart is in the middle of a man's body.
When his sword was carried into a campong in advance of his coming,
the maidens whispered wonderingly under the fruit-trees, the rich
men consulted together in the shade, and a feast was made ready with
rejoicing and songs. He had the favour of the Ruler and the affection of
the poor. He loved war, deer hunts, and the charms of women. He was the
possessor of jewels, of lucky weapons, and of men's devotion. He was a
fierce man; and I had no other friend.

"I was the chief of a stockade at the mouth of the river, and collected
tolls for my brother from the passing boats. One day I saw a Dutch
trader go up the river. He went up with three boats, and no toll was
demanded from him, because the smoke of Dutch war-ships stood out from
the open sea, and we were too weak to forget treaties. He went up under
the promise of safety, and my brother gave him protection. He said
he came to trade. He listened to our voices, for we are men who speak
openly and without fear; he counted the number of our spears, he
examined the trees, the running waters, the grasses of the bank,
the slopes of our hills. He went up to Matara's country and obtained
permission to build a house. He traded and planted. He despised our
joys, our thoughts, and our sorrows. His face was red, his hair like
flame, and his eyes pale, like a river mist; he moved heavily, and spoke
with a deep voice; he laughed aloud like a fool, and knew no courtesy
in his speech. He was a big, scornful man, who looked into women's faces
and put his hand on the shoulders of free men as though he had been a
noble-born chief. We bore with him. Time passed.

"Then Pata Matara's sister fled from the campong and went to live in the