of assaulted stockades and forest ambushes. In this contest, both
parties--according to Jaffir--displayed great courage, and one of them
an unswerving devotion to what, almost from the first, was a lost cause.
Before a month elapsed Hassim, though still chief of an armed band, was
already a fugitive. He kept up the struggle, however, with some vague
notion that Lingard's arrival would turn the tide.

"For weeks we lived on wild rice; for days we fought with nothing
but water in our bellies," declaimed Jaffir in the tone of a true
fire-eater.

And then he went on to relate, how, driven steadily down to the sea,
Hassim, with a small band of followers, had been for days holding the
stockade by the waterside.

"But every night some men disappeared," confessed Jaffir. "They were
weary and hungry and they went to eat with their enemies. We are only
ten now--ten men and a woman with the heart of a man, who are tonight
starving, and to-morrow shall die swiftly. We saw your ship afar all
day; but you have come too late. And for fear of treachery and lest harm
should befall you--his friend--the Rajah gave me the ring and I crept
on my stomach over the sand, and I swam in the night--and I, Jaffir, the
best swimmer in Wajo, and the slave of Hassim, tell you--his message to
you is 'Depart and forget'--and this is his gift--take!"

He caught hold suddenly of Lingard's hand, thrust roughly into it the
ring, and then for the first time looked round the cabin with wondering
but fearless eyes. They lingered over the semicircle of bayonets and
rested fondly on musket-racks. He grunted in admiration.