'Stab! Stab! Stab! Ye sons of evil women!' he yelled to his men, and before poor
Imâm Bakar could free himself from the powerful grasp which held him, the
spears were unearthed, and half a dozen of their blades met in his shuddering
flesh. It was soon over, and Imâm Bakar lay dead upon the sandbank, his body
still quivering, while the peaceful morning song of the birds came uninterrupted
from the forest around.
Then Khatib Bûjang and Imâm Prang Sâmah were sent for, and as they came
trembling into the presence of To’ Gâjah, whose hands were still red with the
blood of their friend and kinsman, they squatted humbly on the sand at his feet.
'Behold a sample of what ye also may soon be,' said To’ Gâjah, spurning the
dead body of Imâm Bakar as he spoke. 'Mark it well, and then tell me who is
your Master and who your Chief!'
Khatib Bûjang and Imâm Prang Sâmah stuttered and stammered, but not because
they hesitated about the answer, but rather through over eagerness to speak, and
a deadly fear which held them dumb. At last, however, they found words and
cried together:
'The Bĕndăhâra is our Master, and our Chief is whomsoever thou mayest be
pleased to appoint.'
Thus they saved their lives, and are still living, while To’ Gâjah lies buried in an
exile's grave; but many will agree in thinking that such a death as Imâm Bakar's
is a better thing for a man to win, than empty years such as his companions have
survived to pass in scorn and in dishonour.
But while these things were being done at Pĕkan and at Pâsir Tambang, Wan
Lingga, who, as I have related, had remained behind in the upper country when
To’ Râja was carried to Pĕkan, was sparing no pains to seduce the faithful
natives of the interior from their loyalty to their hereditary Chief. In all his
efforts, however, he was uniformly unsuccessful, for, though he had got rid of
To’ Râja, there remained in the Lĭpis Valley the aged Chief of the District, the
Dâto’ Kâya Stia-wangsa, whom the people both loved and feared. He had been a
great warrior in the days of his youth, and a series of lucky chances and hair-
breadth escapes had won for him an almost fabulous reputation, such as among a
superstitious people easily attaches itself to any striking and successful
personality. It was reported that he bore a charmed life, that he was invulnerable
alike to lead bullets and to steel blades, and even the silver slugs which his
enemies had fashioned for him had hitherto failed to find their billet in his body.