been summoned for a big talk.  He remembered with pleasure how very eloquent and persuasive he had been.  “I managed to put some backbone into them that time, and no mistake,” he said.  Sherif Ali’s last raid had swept the outskirts of the settlement, and some women belonging to the town had been carried off to the stockade.  Sherif Ali’s emissaries had been seen in the market-place the day before, strutting about haughtily in white cloaks, and boasting of the Rajah’s friendship for their master.  One of them stood forward in the shade of a tree, and, leaning on the long barrel of a rifle, exhorted the people to prayer and repentance, advising them to kill all the strangers in their midst, some of whom, he said, were infidels and others even worse—­children of Satan in the guise of Moslems.  It was reported that several of the Rajah’s people amongst the listeners had loudly expressed their approbation.  The terror amongst the common people was intense.  Jim, immensely pleased with his day’s work, crossed the river again before sunset.

’As he had got the Bugis irretrievably committed to action and had made himself responsible for success on his own head, he was so elated that in the lightness of his heart he absolutely tried to be civil with Cornelius.  But Cornelius became wildly jovial in response, and it was almost more than he could stand, he says, to hear his little squeaks of false laughter, to see him wriggle and blink, and suddenly catch hold of his chin and crouch low over the table with a distracted stare.  The girl did not show herself, and Jim retired early.  When he rose to say good-night, Cornelius jumped up, knocking his chair over, and ducked out of sight as if to pick up something he had dropped.  His good-night came huskily from under the table.  Jim was amazed to see him emerge with a dropping jaw, and staring, stupidly frightened eyes.  He clutched the edge of the table.  “What’s the matter?  Are you unwell?” asked Jim.  “Yes, yes, yes.  A great colic in my stomach,” says the other; and it is Jim’s opinion that it was perfectly true.  If so, it was, in view of his contemplated action, an abject sign of a still imperfect callousness for which he must be given all due credit.

’Be it as it may, Jim’s slumbers were disturbed by a dream of heavens like brass resounding with a great voice, which called upon him to Awake!  Awake! so loud that, notwithstanding his desperate determination to sleep on, he did wake up in reality.  The glare of a red spluttering conflagration going on in mid-air fell on his eyes.  Coils of black thick smoke curved round the head of some apparition, some unearthly being, all in white, with a severe, drawn, anxious face.  After a second or so he recognised the girl.  She was holding a dammar torch at arm’s-length aloft, and in a persistent, urgent monotone she was repeating, “Get up!  Get up!  Get up!”

’Suddenly he leaped to his feet; at once she put into his hand a revolver, his own revolver, which had been hanging on a nail, but loaded this time.  He gripped it in silence, bewildered, blinking in the light.  He wondered what he could do for her.