Almayer burst through the ring of horrified spectators, Mrs. Almayer
threw her own head-veil over the upturned face of the drowned man, and,
squatting by it, with another mournful howl, sent a shiver through the
now silent crowd. Mahmat, dripping wet, turned to Almayer, eager to tell
his tale.

In the first moment of reaction from the anguish of his fear the sunshine
seemed to waver before Almayer's eyes, and he listened to words spoken
around him without comprehending their meaning. When, by a strong effort
of will, he regained the possession of his senses, Mahmat was saying--

"That is the way, Tuan. His sarong was caught in the broken branch, and
he hung with his head under water. When I saw what it was I did not want
it here. I wanted it to get clear and drift away. Why should we bury a
stranger in the midst of our houses for his ghost to frighten our women
and children? Have we not enough ghosts about this place?"

A murmur of approval interrupted him here. Mahmat looked reproachfully
at Babalatchi.

"But the Tuan Babalatchi ordered me to drag the body ashore"--he went on
looking round at his audience, but addressing himself only to
Almayer--"and I dragged him by the feet; in through the mud I have
dragged him, although my heart longed to see him float down the river to
strand perchance on Bulangi's clearing--may his father's grave be
defiled!"

There was subdued laughter at this, for the enmity of Mahmat and Bulangi
was a matter of common notoriety and of undying interest to the
inhabitants of Sambir. In the midst of that mirth Mrs. Almayer wailed