on his journey up river. The Pĕkan Râjas had carefully collected them man by
man as they followed in the wake of the dispersing army, and Wan Bong thus
found himself deprived, in an instant, not only of all that he had believed himself
to have won, but even of such poor following as had been his in the days before
his ambitious schemes were hatched.
But before the royal forces began their invasion of the upper country, it became
evident to them that Che’ Jahya, the Chief who had been left in charge of the
Tĕmbĕling River by Wan Bong, must be disposed of. This man had followed
Wan Bong's fortunes from the first, and it was known in the royal camp that no
attempt to buy his loyalty would be likely to prove successful. Wan Bong had
started up the Jĕlai on his triumphal progress, and it was important that no news
should reach him, that might cause him to stay the dispersal of his men. So Che’
Jahya's fate was sealed. About the second day after Wan Bong's departure for
Bûkit Bĕtong, Che’ Jahya was seated in the cool interior of his house at Kuâla
Âtok, on the Tĕmbĕling River. The sun was hot overhead, and the squeaking low
of a cow-buffalo, calling to its calf, came to his ears. The fowls clucked and
scratched about the ground beneath the flooring, and the women-folk in the
cook-house chattered happily. All spoke of peace. The war was over, and Che’
Jahya sat dreaming of the good things which would be his in the days that were
coming. He had stood by Wan Bong when bullets were flying, and had camped
on the bare earth when his armies had taken the field. His aid and his counsel
had had no small share in his chief's success. Che’ Jahya's heart was filled with
peace, and the gladness of one whose toils are over, and who sees his rewards
well within his grasp. Already, in imagination, he was acting as the new
Bĕndăhâras deputy, having power over men, a harem full of fair women, and
wealth to gild his ease. And yet, as he sat there dreaming, his death was ever
drawing nearer to him, unfeared and unsuspected.
Shortly before sunset, at the hour when the kine go down to water, a party of
Râwa men came to Che’ Jahya's house. These people are a race of Sumatran
Malays, and members of their tribe have been mercenaries and hired bravos in
the Peninsula, beyond the memory of man. They came to Che’ Jahya, they said,
to offer their services to him; and, in their coming, he saw the first evidence of
that authority over men and things, of which he had sat dreaming through the hot
hours of the day. He received them courteously, and had rice and spiced viands
placed before them, inviting them to eat, and, in doing so, he almost
unconsciously assumed the tone and manners of a great chief. All partook of the
meal in heartiness and good fellowship, for the Râwa people have no fine