his mother-in-law in full flight was too much for To’ Kâya, who probably owed
her many grudges, and he at once gave chase, overtook her, and stabbed her
through the shoulder. She, however, succeeded in making good her escape,
carrying the baby with her. To’ Kâya then returned to his house, whence his son
had also fled, and set it afire once more, and this time it blazed up bravely.
As he stood looking at the flames, a Kĕlantan man named Äbdul Rahman came
up and asked him how the house had caught fire.
'I know not,' said To’ Kâya.
'Let us try to save some of the property,' said Äbdul Rahman, for, like many
Kĕlantan natives, he was a thief by trade, and knew that a fire gave him a good
opportunity of practising his profession.
'Good!' said To’ Kâya, 'Mount thee into the house, and lift the boxes, while I
wait here and receive them.'
Nothing loth, Äbdul Rahman climbed into the house, and presently appeared
with a large box in his arms. As he leaned over the verandah, in the act of
handing it down to To’ Kâya, the latter stabbed him shrewdly in the vitals, and
box and man came to the ground with a crash. Äbdul Rahman picked himself up,
and ran as far as the big stone mosque, where he collapsed and died. To’ Kâya
did not pursue him, but stood looking at the leaping flames.
The next man to arrive on the scene was Pa’ Pek, a Trĕnggânu native, who, with
his wife Ma’ Pek, had tended To’ Kâya when he was little.
'Wo’,' he said, for he spoke to To’ Kâya as though the latter was his son, 'Wo’,
what has caused this fire?'
'I know not,' said To’ Kâya.
'Where are thy children, Wo’?' asked Pa’ Pek.
'They are still within the house,' said To’ Kâya.
'Then suffer me to save them,' said Pa’ Pek.
'Do so, Pa’ Pek,' said To’ Kâya, and, as the old man climbed into the house, he
stabbed him in the ribs, and Pa’ Pek ran away towards the mosque till he tripped
over the prostrate body of Äbdul Rahman, fell, and eventually died where he lay.