It began with something white fluttering in the remote distance where the three poplars marked the river bend.  “Pocket-handkerchief,” said Bailey, when he saw it “No.  Too big!  Flag perhaps.”

However, it was not a flag, for it jumped about.  “Man in whites running fast, and this way,” said Bailey.  “That’s luck!  But his whites are precious loose!”

Then a singular thing happened.  There was a minute pink gleam among the dark trees in the distance, and a little puff of pale grey that began to drift and vanish eastward.  The man in white jumped and continued running.  Presently the report of the shot arrived.

“What the devil!” said Bailey.  “Looks as if someone was shooting at him.”

He sat up stiffly and stared hard.  The white figure was coming along the pathway through the corn.  “It’s one of those niggers from the Fitzgibbon’s,” said Bailey; “or may I be hanged!  I wonder why he keeps sawing with his arm.”

Then three other figures became indistinctly visible against the dark background of the trees.

Abruptly on the opposite bank a man walked into the picture.  He was black-bearded, dressed in flannels, had a red belt, and a vast grey felt hat.  He walked, leaning very much forward and with his hands swinging before him.  Behind him one could see the grass swept by the towing-rope of the boat he was dragging.  He was steadfastly regarding the white figure that was hurrying through the corn.  Suddenly he stopped.  Then, with a peculiar gesture, Bailey could see that he began pulling in the tow-rope hand over hand.  Over the water could be heard the voices of the people in the still invisible boat.

“What are you after, Hagshot?” said someone.

The individual with the red belt shouted something that was inaudible, and went on lugging in the rope, looking over his shoulder at the advancing white figure as he did so.  He came down the bank, and the rope bent a lane among the reeds and lashed the water between his pulls.

Then just the bows of the boat came into view, with the towing-mast and a tall, fair-haired man standing up and trying to see over the bank.  The boat bumped unexpectedly among the reeds, and the tall, fair-haired man disappeared suddenly, having apparently fallen back into the invisible part of the boat.  There was a curse and some indistinct laughter.  Hagshot did not laugh, but hastily clambered into the boat and pushed off.  Abruptly the boat passed out of Bailey’s sight.

But it was still audible.  The melody of voices suggested that its occupants were busy telling each other what to do.

The running figure was drawing near the bank.  Bailey could now see clearly that it was one of Fitzgibbon’s Orientals, and began to realise what the sinuous thing the man carried in his hand might be.  Three other men followed one another through the corn, and the foremost carried what was probably the gun.  They were perhaps two hundred yards or more behind the Malay.