The three men in blue were so intent on their work that they never once glanced upwards. They were slashing fiercely at the nearer end of the bridge, and were about two hundred and fifty yards away. A rifle-bullet would reach them more quickly than anything, and Jack drew a careful bead on the nearest worker and fired. His bullet went through the arm which had just swung up the heavy blade for a fresh stroke at the frail bridge, and the dah dropped into the water, while the dacoit's yell of pain came clearly to the ears of the party now gathered on the edge of the ravine.

"Gosh!" cried Buck. "They're ahead of us."

"So they are," snapped Jim. "They're cutting down the bridge and penning us in. Drop 'em, boys, drop 'em quick, or it's all over with us."

At the next instant a swift shower of the tiny slips of lead was pelting on to the bridge head where the two dacoits still hacked away, striking harder and faster now that the rifles cracked on the lip of the ravine. One dropped into the river with a splash, the other leapt into cover of the big tree to which the bridge was swung, and was safe from the darting bullets. But his gleaming dah still flashed into sight now and again as he hewed fiercely at the bridge.

Jack at once bounded out, and, followed by his companions, raced madly for the place. The bridge was but a slight affair, a native structure formed of a couple of long bamboo poles with cross pieces lashed into place by native cordage.

The lower slope of the ravine was covered with tall bushes of wild plum, and, as Jack ran through these, he lost sight, for a few moments, of the bridge and the busy dacoit. He burst through them with a straight, open run before him of seventy yards to the bridge head. His heart beat thick and fast as he flew across the open. The blows of the dah had ceased. Had the bridge gone or not? A little clump of water-grasses on the bank hid the bridge from him, but the silence was terribly ominous. He thought he saw a blue kilt disappearing among the trees, but he did not stay to intercept it. He shot up to the edge of the stream, and saw a horrible space of blank water between bank and bank. The bridge was swinging slowly towards the other side. Held fast there, the current was thrusting the slight structure across the stream. The dacoits had succeeded in their plan.

Jack stood still and looked round for their enemies. There was no sign of a Kachin to be seen. One had dropped into the river, and the current had certainly carried him away; the others had escaped into the jungle which grew thickly within a short distance of the bridge head.

"By Jingo!" cried Jim Dent blankly, as he ran up. "The bridge has gone. We're in a pretty fix."

"Gone," echoed Buck. "They've cut us off after all. Boys, we're in a tight place."

"Bridge gone!" cried Me Dain. "Bridge gone! What shall we do? Sahibs, oh, what shall we do?"

Jack looked from one to the other in some surprise at hearing this outburst of deep anxiety.

"It isn't very wide," he cried. "Why on earth can't we swim over? That would be simple enough."

"Ay, ay," said Jim Dent. "Easy enough if we were sure of getting to the other side, but we're not. All these rivers swarm with alligators, big, savage brutes that would pull a man under as easy as if he were a dog."

Jack's looks were now as blank as the others. This put a very different face on crossing the river, and he gazed on the dark, swift stream with horror. In those gloomy depths lurked huge, dreadful reptiles whose vast jaws would drag a swimmer down to a frightful death.

"It's not a short journey across this creek, d'ye see," said Buck. "The stream's so fast that a swimmer would be swept down full a hundred yards in crossing from bank to bank, and in that time it would give an alligator plenty of chance to lay hold of him."

"We can't cross here, sahibs," put in Me Dain. "Stream too swift, too strong. The bridge is here because the river at this place is very narrow, but about a mile down there is a ford."

"We'd better light out for it without losing any more time then," cried Buck. "We might see an ugly row of Kachins any minute now along the brink of the gully behind us."

"True for you, Buck," said Jack. "Lead us at once to the ford, Me Dain."

The Burman turned and hurried down the banks of the stream, and the others followed. In a moment they were lost to sight among the tall bushes which were dotted about the bank. When the sound of their footsteps had completely died away, two figures slipped from the edge of the jungle and approached the spot where the fugitives had stood. The newcomers were a couple of dacoits, one the man who had been wounded by Jack's first shot. The short, broad, powerful figures stood for a moment in close conversation, then the wounded man started to climb the bank of the ravine. The second dacoit plunged into the bushes, and followed easily the track left by four men and two ponies. It was his task to track the intruders down: his comrade was despatched to find the rest of the band and lead them to enjoy the revenge for which the blood-thirsty dacoits lusted.



CHAPTER XVII.

A FRIGHTFUL PERIL.

Meanwhile the fugitives, unconscious that a sleuth-hound was on their track, hurried forward and came to a point where the river spread out broadly over sandy flats.

"This is the ford," cried Me Dain.

"Why was it given up?" asked Jack.

"Because it was too dangerous, sahib," replied the Burman. "Many men, many women have been seized by alligators at this ford. So the villagers made a bridge at the narrow place higher up."

"Well, we shall have to face it," said Jack. "How deep is it in the middle?"

"To the waist when the water is low," replied Me Dain.

"H'm, that's awkward," remarked Jim Dent, "for the water certainly isn't low to-day. There's been rain among the hills. You can tell by the colour. It may mean swimming in the middle."

"I'll try it first," cried Jack, "and I'll sing out to you how I find it. Here goes!" He was about to spring into the river, when Jim Dent called to him to stop.

"No, no," said Jim. "That won't do, Jack. We might lose you that way, and we should prefer a good deal to lose a pony."

"Sure thing," said Buck, as Jim looked at him.

"Now," went on Dent, "here's our best plan. We'll go in in a bunch with a pony each side of the party. Then, if some of these ugly brutes come up to see who's crossing their river, they're more likely to grab a pony, and if we lose them, why we must."

"It will be a frightful loss," said Jack.

"It lies between that and being scuppered ourselves," said Dent.

"Yes, yes, Jim, of course," cried Jack. "Your plan is the best."

It was carried out at once. The four men went into the ford in a bunch, with a pony up stream and a pony down stream. Jack was leading the up-stream pony, Buck the down-stream animal, while Jim and the Burman were between them. The crossing was a broad one, near upon a hundred yards, for the river had spread out on a sandy flat, and they were thirty or forty yards into the stream before they were more than thigh-deep. Then the water suddenly deepened a full twelve inches, and they were up to their waists. The stream, even on the flat here, was fairly swift, and they could only wade forward slowly.

"Slow job this," remarked Buck. "Water's tougher stuff than you think to get through. I feel as if I was wading through treacle."

"Yes, doesn't it clog your movements," agreed Jack, "but I should think we're a good half-way over."

"Deep part got to come yet, sahib," said Me Dain. "We have come through easy part of ford."

Just at this moment Jim's voice broke in; his tones were low and fiercely earnest.

"Push ahead, boys," he said. "Do your best. Strike it faster, everybody."

"What is it, Jim?" The question broke from Jack's lips, but a glance up stream answered it before Jim could speak in reply. A hundred yards above the ford a small sand-bank rose above the water. On this bank lay, to all appearance, three logs washed thither by the current. But now, oh horror, Jack saw these logs move and raise themselves. They were huge alligators sunning themselves and waiting for prey. It was clear that the vast saurians had noted the movement on the surface of the river. One by one they slid down the sand and vanished into the stream.

"They are coming, sahibs, they are coming!" cried Me Dain, and his brown face was hideously ashen with terror.

"Strike it faster, everybody," growled Jim, and the party pushed forward at their utmost speed through the stream.

"Gosh!" panted Buck. "It's getting deeper and deeper. That's dead against us."

"Let us go back, sahibs," cried Me Dain, beside himself in terror of the awful reptiles now coming down stream upon them with frightful rapidity. "Let us go back. Better to face dacoits than alligators."

"Easy does it, Me Dain," said Jack. "Peg along and do your best. It's facing death either way. Let's have a go at the other bank."



"That's the way to talk, Jack," said Jim, through the teeth set in his white, grim face. "We've got to go through with it now. And hark, listen to that!"

There was the crack of a musket on the shore behind them, and a ball whistled over their heads and splashed into the water before them. Jack glanced back and saw a blue-clothed figure on the river bank.

"They're coming," he said. "One of them's trying to pot us now. Impossible to turn back."

"Gosh! it's deepening again," growled Buck.

So it was. The stream ran nearly shoulder deep, and the other bank was still a good forty yards away. Jack pushed on as fast as he could, urging the pony forward. His breath came fast, and his heart thumped like a trip-hammer. The situation was inconceivably desperate. Somewhere through the hidden depths of the rushing stream, three monstrous and frightful reptiles, fearfully dangerous and terrible creatures in their own element, were darting swiftly towards them, and behind them the dacoits now lined the shore and prevented return into shallower waters which might promise safety from the huge saurians.

Suddenly the pony which Jack led gave a great leap, and pawed the water madly with its fore-feet, and uttered a loud snort of agonised terror. Jack held him tight and looked over his withers. Nor could the brave lad keep back a cry of alarm at the frightful thing he saw there.



CHAPTER XVIII.

THE COMBAT IN THE RIVER.

The river, though swift, was not muddy, and through the clear brown water he saw plainly the vast open jaws of a huge alligator rising in the stream, and about to seize the pony by the neck. In another second the great saurian would have seized its prey, but the pony swerved aside, and the huge snout shot out of the water, and the jaws, missing their prey, clashed together with a sharp snap. At the next moment they were opened, as the alligator drew back a little for a fresh assault.

Jack had been marching with his Mannlicher held on top of the pony's pack, and his Mauser pistol held up in the other hand, hoping to keep the weapons dry. Now he seized the opportunity of pouring a stream of heavy Mauser bullets into the open jaws.

So swiftly did he press the trigger that he drove five shots in before the alligator once more snapped its jaws close. The great saurian was badly wounded, and in its rage and agony began to lash the water furiously with its huge tail, while blood and foam poured out at its jaws and nostrils. The deadly, ripping, soft-nosed bullets, which would have glanced off its hide of mail, had torn their way down its throat and through the soft parts of the body with fearful destructive power, inflicting mortal wounds. At sound of the pistol shots so close to its ear, the pony leapt forward more frantically still, and the huge dying brute was left floundering in the water.

"One done for," roared Jim in delight. "Peg away, boys. We may come safe yet."

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Buck let out a yell of alarm.

"Say," cried Buck, "there's one here. He's got hold of the pony."

Buck's words were drowned by the loud shrill squeal of affright from the pony, whose off-hind leg had been seized by the second of the vast brutes to attack the party.

"Here's another," shouted Jack, and he and Jim, who had been also holding his pistol above the stream, fired rapidly. The third alligator was sailing straight upon them down stream, floating on the surface, his evil, unwinking eyes fixed full on the pony which he was about to attack. Jim planted a lucky shot in one of the wicked-looking eyes and knocked it clean out of its socket. Jack plainly saw the bleeding hole before the alligator threw up his huge tail, slapped the water with a crack like thunder, and dived.

In the meantime Buck was engaged in a terrible struggle with the alligator which had seized the pony. He held the bridle of the unlucky beast, and assisted it as much as possible in the strong fight it made for its life. So desperately did the powerful little animal struggle with its terrible foe that it actually gained a dozen yards or more, dragging the huge reptile along the river-bed. But the immensely powerful jaws, fanged with strong, sharp teeth, never loosed their grip.

Jim now turned to Buck's assistance. At that instant the alligator rolled in the water, showing its softer underside. It rose towards the surface, yet never easing its grip, and lashed the river into foam with its powerful tail as it tugged backwards with tremendous force, aiming to pull the pony into the deeper water. For a moment Jim saw its underside near the surface, the four horrible legs armed with huge claws striking out savagely in the water.

He thrust his rifle into the stream, pressing the muzzle against the saurian's body. Luckily the magazine still remained above water, and he fired several shots in swift succession into the vast brute, the water boiling and swirling as the gases of the discharge came to the surface in huge bubbles. One of these shots must have reached a vital part; the alligator gave a final convulsive shudder, its jaws ground savagely together, then they gaped wide, and the pony was free.

Jack was pushing on swiftly with the pony under his charge. That was his business, and he hurried forward, feeling joyfully that the water was growing shallower with every step. His shoulders were out, and now the pony's withers began to rise. Suddenly a horrid dark snout was thrust up in front of him. It was the wounded alligator, which had returned to the assault.

Before Jack could fire the saurian dived, and Jack saw the huge dark form dart at him under water. He felt his legs swept from under him at the next instant, and down he went. He had not been seized, he had simply been knocked from his foothold by the rush of the great brute, and he landed full on the alligator's back. He felt plainly with his hand its rough scaly covering like knobs of horn. He had kept his eyes open, and saw clearly the horrid brute below him, and the dark forms of his companions at hand.

He dropped his pistol, whipped out a great hunting-knife from his belt, and drove it time and again into the underside of the big reptile. Then he struck out for the surface and came up gasping for breath. He swam a dozen swift strokes before he dared to drop his feet again and find the easy depth which the whole party had now reached. He saw that the Burman was leading ashore the pony he had been torn away from, and that Buck and Jim were doing their utmost to keep the second pony on its legs. Suddenly the bottom began to rise swiftly, and the whole party, fearfully exhausted, but very luckily unhurt, staggered ashore and threw themselves down on the warm sand.

"You all right, Jack?" snapped Buck. "I thought I saw you go under."

"Yes," said Jack, "the brute that Jim knocked an eye out of attacked me and fetched me off my legs. But I dug a knife into him and got away. How are you two?"

"Oh, we've come through with a sound skin," replied Jim. "But that was a near shave. And look what we've missed." He pointed to the water, where, thirty yards out, half-a-dozen huge ridged backs were now to be seen cruising to and fro.

"By Jove!" said Jack, "it's a fresh lot turned up just as we got out."

Everyone shuddered as they thought what their fate would have been if the alligators, attracted to the scene by the scent of prey, had arrived a few moments earlier.

"Where are the dacoits?" said Jack, looking across to the other bank. "They've all cleared out, except a couple who seem posted to watch us."

"So they have," rejoined Buck. "What's their little game?"

"I wonder if there's another bridge handy," remarked Jack. "Where's the next bridge, Me Dain?"

"A long way down the river, sahib, but there is a village about four miles off."

"Then they've gone there to borrow a boat, I'll wager a trifle on that," cried Jack.

"Right for you, Jack," said Dent. "We'd better be on the move. But what can we do with this pony?"

The poor beast, which the alligator had mauled, had managed to get ashore and that was all. Its leg was frightfully torn.

"This pony 'll never hit the trail again," remarked Buck, after he had examined it carefully. "We shall have to carry its pack partly between us and partly on the other pony."

"Poor little brute," said Jack. "It's suffering fearfully. Look at its eyes!"

"We can do nothing for it, I'm afraid," remarked Jim.

"No," said Buck, "but if we don't hump round a bit, somebody'll do something for us."

This hint of the danger in which they still stood from the blood-thirsty and revengeful dacoits quickened their movements, and the wounded pony was stripped in a few moments. The other pony was quite unhurt, and a good share of the baggage was added to its load for the present; the remainder was swung up on the shoulders of the four members of the party.

Jack, Jim, and the Burman now marched swiftly up the river bank towards the road which ran from the broken bridge. Buck stayed behind for a moment. Soon his companions heard the crack of the pistol which put an end to the sufferings of the wounded pony, then heard Buck's footsteps as he hastened to rejoin them.

"What a lucky thing you packed the ammunition in water-tight tins, Jim," remarked Jack, as they pushed at full speed along the bank.

"Yes," said Jim, "I've been in this country a time or two afore. It wasn't wetter in that river than it is in the jungle at times when a storm catches you."

"I've lost my Mauser pistol," said Jack. "It had to go when that brute knocked my legs from under me. I had to drop it to whip my knife out. Luckily I've got my rifle all right. That was on the sling."

"We've got another Mauser in the outfit," said Jim. "I slipped a couple of spare ones in. We'll turn it out at the next stopping-place."

No more was said, and they pushed on swiftly along the river bank. The day was fearfully hot and the road rough. Jim Dent began to puff and blow under his burden.

"Say," grunted Buck, "this is a tough job running away under loads from dacoits who'll scour after us like coyotes as soon as they hit our bank of the river."

"It is," panted Jim. "Me Dain, how far is it to the next village which is strong enough to make us safe against the Kachins?"

The Burman shook his head.

"Soon the road leaves the river," he said. "Then it goes through jungle. But it passes only little villages, very little."

"A jungle road, and no chance of a haven," said Jack. "This sounds precious awkward. It strikes me our only chance will be to pick a strong position, or as strong a one as we can find, and wait for them. They'll certainly run us down pretty soon at the pace we're travelling now."

"And we can't go any faster," said Buck, "without we leave our traps, and then we should be up a tree for want of them, even if we escaped from the dacoits in the end."

"I'm getting beat, and that's a fact," murmured Jim Dent. "I had a sharp touch of fever about three months ago, and it's not gone so clean out of my bones as I thought."

"I'll carry your pack, Jim," cried Jack.

"In addition to your own?" said Dent. "Not likely. I'll peg along a bit farther before I agree to that."

At that moment the path ran into a grove of tall bamboos clustered along the bank. The grove was of no great width, and they emerged from it to see a little camp pitched on a sand-bank beside the stream. A fire was burning, and a pot of rice simmering over the flame. Watching the rice, sat, or rather squatted, a couple of Shan boatmen, and their boat was moored to a tree at the water's edge.

"Hallo!" cried Jack, "these chaps have got a big boat here. Can't we get them to run us and our stuff up the river?"

"By George!" said Jim Dent, "there's something in that."

"Ask them, Me Dain," called Jack. "Tell them we'll pay them well if they'll carry us up the river."

The Burman ran forward at once and began to talk quickly to the big-hatted boatmen. In two moments everything was settled. The men were poling their boat back up the stream after selling a load of tobacco in a down-river village, and were glad to serve travellers who would pay them well. The baggage was stripped from the pony, and hastily swung into the empty boat.

"What shall we do with the pony?" said Jack.

"Turn him loose into the jungle," said Buck. "He's got heaps of sense, they all have. Before night he'll hit on some village, and then he'll soon find a master. A stray pony comes in very useful to anybody."

This was done. Me Dain led the pony a short distance from the river bank and loosed it, and gave it a cut with a switch. The little creature threw up its heels joyfully to find itself free, then cantered off among the trees, and they saw it no more.

By this time the Shans had swallowed their rice, and were ready to seize their poles. All sprang aboard, the Shans and Me Dain grasped the boating-poles, and the craft was soon being driven steadily up stream. For some time Jack watched the boatmen with deep interest. They drove their craft along just as a punt is propelled in England. Each man handled a long stout pole, and, where the water was shallow enough, he set the bottom of his pole in the gravelly bed and urged the boat forward. Where the water was too deep the craft was turned inshore, and the polers thrust the ends of their staves against the bank or against tree trunks lining the water's edge. Jack saw that quite deep holes had been made in many of the trunks where boatman after boatman had gained the purchase which sent his craft spinning up stream.

"Well, Jim," said Jack, "this is a bit easier anyhow."

"It is," sighed Dent, wiping the streaming sweat from his brow. "I was pretty near caving in, and that's a fact."

"We'll drop the dacoits for a sure thing," said Buck. "They'll stop to hunt all about the place where they lose our trail, and then they'll follow up the pony for a dead cert."

"True for you, Buck," replied Jim Dent. "We left no marks at all to show them where we got into the boat."

They had embarked secretly by pushing the boat up to a big stone, and moving carefully in order to leave no trace.

"Where does the road turn off from the river bank, Me Dain?" asked Jack.

"We have passed it already, sahib," replied the Burman. "It is solid jungle on both banks now, with no path at all The dacoits cannot follow except along the river itself."

"Then we've dropped 'em," said Jim Dent decisively. "We shall never see 'em again."

And Jim's words proved to be right. They had at last eluded the pursuit of the blood-thirsty little Kachins.



CHAPTER XIX.

THE VILLAGE FESTIVAL.

For three days the strong arms of Me Dain and the two Shan boatmen drove the river boat up the stream, and every day's journey brought them nearer to the mountains where the rubies were found, and among whose recesses they believed that Jack's father was a close prisoner in the hands of men who coveted rubies above all things.

Jack said very little to his companions about the object of their journey, but his own thoughts were full of it at every waking moment. Since he had discovered that U Saw, the Ruby King, had a steam yacht, and that it had returned and gone up river shortly before their own arrival, he had felt no doubt whatever in his own mind as to his father's fate. He knew that the great ruby expert was on that yacht a close captive, and that he had been carried by secret ways, through the jungle and over the hills, to the place where U Saw was all-powerful, and would do his utmost to wrest from Thomas Haydon the knowledge which the latter certainly possessed of a great ruby-mine.

Very good. They, too, would push into the Ruby King's country, and do their utmost to foil his plans and snatch his prisoner from his clutch. Hour after hour Jack thought over the situation, while his eye rested almost carelessly on the lovely scenes of hill-side and jungle, past which their boat was driven.

At the end of the first day they left the main current of the river, and poled eastwards by a network of creeks leading to the village from which their boatmen came. For the most part the water-way was very solitary. Here and there they passed a village, but, as a rule, no life, save that of wild animals, was to be seen. Monkeys chattered in the trees over their heads, panthers and deer came down to the stream to drink, tigers roared in sullen fashion in the jungle, and once, a troop of wild elephants crossed a ford before them in stately line.

With the evening of the third day the boatmen reached their native village, and the travellers stepped ashore. A new hut, built of reeds and cane, was set apart at once for their use, and, after supper, they talked over their future movements before turning in.

"How do we stand now as regards striking the course my father followed from Mogok?" asked Jack.

Jim Dent, who knew the country well, cross-examined Me Dain for a few moments.

"We ought to hit it to-morrow afternoon," he said. "We've come a long way on the right road by dropping on these boatmen. We're just handy to the foot-hills, and the Professor skirted 'em, according to what Me Dain says."

"Very well," said Jack. "Then we'll roll into our blankets, and be off by daybreak."

Jack was so eager to start on the real trail, and so excited by its nearness, that he slept but little. He was up an hour before the dawn, and had got the fire burning when his companions awoke. Buck sat up, and rubbed his eyes, and sniffed the smoke.

"Keen on a start, Jack?" he murmured.

"I am, Buck," replied the tall lad. "Haven't you told me a score of times how the news of travellers in a country runs with marvellous swiftness through the jungle, from village to village? Well, I want to be ahead of the news. It might make Saya Chone and U Saw suspicious. They knew very well we were in Mandalay. I don't want them to learn too soon that we're at their very doors."

Jim Dent nodded. He, too, had wakened, and had been listening to Jack.

"Me Dain," said Jack, "go to the headman, and tell him we want a couple of good ponies to carry the packs once more. Bring them here for us to see, and then we'll pay the owners."

Within half an hour they had the pick of a score of capital little beasts. They looked them over carefully, chose the couple which seemed best suited to their needs, paid for them, and set to work to pack the traps on them. Within an hour after sunrise they were on the march.

For several miles they followed a well-worn road running due north from the village. This was to conceal their true line of march from the knowledge of the curious villagers. But when they were well away from the place, and safe from all prying eyes, they swung to the east and marched straight through open country for the foot-hills, plainly in view a score of miles away.

The sun was low and they had made a good day's journey, when Me Dain halted on a little ridge, overlooking a sloping green valley with a brook tinkling down its centre. Jack was beside him.

"There, sahib, there," said the Burman. "We have reached now the path which the sahib, your father, followed. We made our camp, one night, under those trees."

He pointed to a group of noble teak trees growing beside the little brook, and Jack strode forward, and was soon standing on the spot where his father had camped a month or two before. He had scarcely reached the place when he received proof positive that Me Dain was right. Something glittered in the rays of the sinking sun. It was an empty tin tossed carelessly into a clump of wild-fig bushes. Jack picked it up with a cry of recognition.

"Look here," he said; "the Burman's hit the trail all right. Here's one of the governor's empty tobacco tins. He's never smoked anything else in my knowledge of him."

Jack held in his hand an empty tin which bore the name of a brand of Carolina tobacco. Though little known out of America, the tobacco was an immense favourite with Mr.. Haydon, who carried an ample supply of it with him wherever he went.

"Sure thing," chuckled Buck. "That's one o' the Professor's tins. Well, we'll follow him up."

They camped that night under the teak trees, and with the first light of the next morning, began to follow up the track which Mr.. Haydon had taken some time before, the track which led into the wild hill-country, where U Saw, the Ruby King, was all-powerful.

They now moved with the utmost caution. When they saw a caravan of cattle, laden with salt, marching along a hill road they were about to cross, they hid from it in the jungle. When they saw afar off the spire of a pagoda peeping over the trees, and knew they were near a village, they sent Me Dain ahead to make inquiries, and find whether the villagers were familiar with the name of U Saw. And so for three days they worked cautiously along the track running up into the hills where Thomas Haydon had found the immense ruby of priceless value.

On the fourth morning they were just breaking camp, when, to their surprise, a troop of gaily dressed villagers passed them, and called out a cheerful greeting to Me Dain. The Burman went forward to talk to them, while Jack, Jim, and Buck went on with their packing, and tried to look unconcerned.

They were in reality vexed that they had been seen. But the bunch of walking figures had descended the ravine in which they were camped so suddenly and unexpectedly, that there was no time to get out of the way.

"Where under the sun have these people turned up from, in so lonely a part of the hills?" said Jack to Buck. "Why, we haven't seen a village since yesterday morning."

"I dunno," replied Buck. "This beats the band. They seem to have dropped from the sky."

When Me Dain came back to them, the explanation was simple enough. Four hours' march ahead was a large village, where every three years a great religious festival was held. To this festival the whole country-side gathered, and the band of villagers, now pushing ahead and almost out of sight at the foot of the ravine, had already come three days' journey to attend the feast.

The Burman reported that the villagers had been filled with curiosity at the sight of three white travellers in this out-of-the-way region, and had overwhelmed him with questions about them.

"What did you tell them, Me Dain?" asked Jack.

"Said you were crossing the hills to strike up to the great road from Bhamo," replied the Burman. "Sahibs, we must go to that village now, and pass through it openly."

"But won't that make our presence known throughout the whole district?" cried Jack.

"Not half so much as if we don't show up," said Jim Dent "D'ye see, Jack, it's uncommon, but not impossible, for travellers to strike across the hills this way. Now, if we pass through this village in an open sort of fashion, it won't make a tenth of the talk as if we were to slip off and never be seen again. Then there'd be such a chatter in the country-side as we don't want to start."

"I see what you mean, Jim," returned Jack. "We must hope that we can get through the place quietly."

But Jack's hopes proved utterly vain. Half a mile outside the village they were met by a dozen of the leading inhabitants, each wearing a fine new silk putsoe, and with a gaung baung of gorgeous colour on his head. The strangers were politely bidden to take up their residence in the house of the headman, and to be present at the great feast which was that night to open the week of religious festival. It was impossible to refuse these attentions, and the little group of travellers, whose keenest wish was to pass unnoticed, entered the place under the stare of many hundreds of eyes.

A large room was set at their disposal in the house of the headman, and here they talked together.

"It's vexing, but it can't be helped," said Jack. "We must slip off again in the morning. After all, this fandango, you say, will last a week. At that rate, we shall get a big start of the people assembled here, and shall outrun the country gossip far enough."



CHAPTER XX.

THE DANCING GIRL.

After the dusk had fallen, the travellers were conducted by the headman himself, a white-headed old fellow, who showed them the utmost respect, to the spot where the festival was to be opened with a play and a performance of dancing girls.

Jack was fascinated with the wonderful sight now presented to his view. He, alone, among the party, had never seen such a spectacle before, and he looked on with the deepest interest. He was seated on a heap of cushions, before a wide open space surrounded by thickets of low trees and tall bushes. On the branches of these were hung innumerable coloured lamps, which lighted the scene with a soft, bright radiance.

In the centre of the space were ranged sixty dancing girls, in ten rows of six in a row, and each dancer stood at an equal distance from her next neighbour on either hand. Each girl was dressed in beautiful silks of the most glowing, or the most delicate shades. Her short embroidered jacket, her tightly folded skirt, were of the brightest and newest, and her hair was decked with beautiful flowers.

The dance began, and the graceful swaying movements, to which the clink of the bangles worn in rows on every arm kept time, were full of fascination and charm. All round the open space the villagers from far and near were gathered, and this mass of spectators in strange garbs, but everything of the freshest and gayest, formed a striking setting for the scene.

When the dance was over, the headman, through Me Dain, begged them to inspect the pagoda and the offerings which had been brought to it by the faithful. They went and saw a very quaint and beautiful structure, its columns inlaid with mosaics and coloured glass which glittered with a thousand glancing rays in the lights of the myriads of lamps. Chief among the offerings at the shrine were huge packets of gold-leaf, for the religious Burman loves to decorate his favourite pagoda with sheets of gold-leaf, till it glistens in the sun like a palace of gold.

Among the offerings ranged on the steps of the pagoda was a native painting, a quaint piece of work which drew Jack's attention at once. He bent down to look at it, while his companions rambled on with Me Dain and the headman.

As Jack straightened himself again, he felt a light touch on his arm, and looked round. Beside him stood a dancing girl, wrapped in a close-fitting robe of yellow silk, and a scarf of muslin so wound about her head that he could not see her face.

Jack stared for a moment in surprise, wondering what the girl could want with him, then he gave a great start as she began to speak. She used the softest, gentlest whisper, but her voice came easily to his ears, and, marvellous to relate, she spoke in perfect English.

"I know what you seek," she said, "and I can help you."

Jack's surprise was so great that, for a moment, he could not answer, and the veiled figure went on:

"Would you not like to know where the object of your search is?"

"How do you know that I seek someone?" said Jack in wonder.

"Oh, I know," murmured the dancing girl with a soft, light laugh. "I will go a little further. Would you not like to know where your father, Thomas Haydon, is imprisoned, and what is happening to him?"

For a moment the whole glittering scene of lamps and gaiety went round before Jack's eyes. Then he pulled himself up steady once more. This savoured of the utterly marvellous, that a dancing girl in this village which he had never seen before, should glide up to him and tell him the innermost secret of his heart, the purpose of his quest.

"Who are you, and how did you come to know such things?" said Jack.

"Oh," said the girl lightly, "in this strange land we can do many strange things. But I cannot talk to you long. Do you wish, I ask you once more, to gain tidings of your father?"

"There is nothing I wish for more upon earth," returned Jack earnestly, for it was idle to pretend that the girl was wrong, and try to hide his secret. It was known only too clearly to this strange creature in the yellow robe, with a score of silver bangles tinkling on her arm. Jack turned his head towards his companions who had strolled on, and were now a dozen yards away, and half hidden by a group of villagers standing before the shrine.

"No," said the girl, laying her hand on Jack's arm, "no, you must not call to them. I do not wish to talk to your Burman guide. It would place me in great danger if it became known that I had warned you. If you do not listen to me, and alone, I shall vanish into the crowd, and you will never see me again, or learn that which you long to know."

The girl's hint that she stood in danger by warning him, at once checked the call on Jack's lips. He looked at her keenly, but could only see a pair of lustrous eyes flashing through the folds of delicate muslin, her features he could not make out at all. His brain was in a whirl. Here seemed a most extraordinary, a most wonderful chance to gain news of his father, but at the same time his reason bade him be careful.

Suppose he were to seize the girl and declare that she must tell him at once what she knew? But Jack's feelings revolted at such conduct. Suppose she should come into danger by his doing so, by his making public the fact that she was warning him? No, he could not do that. Besides, they were but a few strangers amid a great concourse of natives. Such an action might give great offence, and place, not only himself, but his friends in a position of the utmost peril.

These thoughts went through Jack's head in a flash. The girl at his side gave another light laugh.

"You can find out all you want in so simple a fashion," she murmured. "Turn your head to the right, and near a patch of acacia bushes you will see a monk with his begging-bowl. Cross over to him, and drop a piece of money into the bowl. At the same moment you can take out of it the letter which your father has sent to you by his hands. I would fetch it for you, but he will not give it up to anyone but you."

This became more and more bewildering, but at the same time, Jack saw that this matter was very simply settled. He looked away to the right, and saw the monk plainly enough, a Buddhist monk in yellow robe, his begging dish of bronze held out before him. The man stood upright and motionless, not thirty yards away.

Jack turned on his heel and strode straight across towards the monk, resolved to see at any rate what was in the dish. The dancing girl followed him with graceful, swaying step.

At the instant that Jack moved towards the monk a fresh band of revellers came out of a path leading from the acacia bushes and crossed towards the steps of the pagoda. From among them a tall, thin man dressed in white robes stepped out and moved with long, soft strides after the young Englishman. His companions lingered and stared idly about them.

As Jack approached the monk, he saw the latter raise his head and glance at him meaningly. Then, with a slight movement of the hand, the monk pointed to the bottom of his bowl. Jack had taken a rupee from his pocket and stretched out his hand to drop it into the bowl. As he did so he glanced eagerly into the bronze vessel. A folded piece of white paper lay in the bottom of it. Jack dropped his coin and stretched out his hand to seize the paper. But he never touched it.

With horrible swiftness and suddenness, someone clutched him from behind. Once more he felt his throat in the frightful strangling grip which had seized him on Rushmere Heath, in far-away England. He tried to shout, but his half-choked voice was drowned in the sudden burst of song which rose from the band of gaily dressed figures which now swarmed around him. He tried to struggle, to throw off the fearful grip which held him, but now the dancing girl sprang to him and pressed against his face a cloth she had drawn from beneath her yellow robe. Almost at once the powerful drug with which the cloth was saturated took effect. Jack's head dropped forward, and the dancing girl nodded to the strangler to loose his frightful clutch.

At that moment Buck looked round and missed his young companion.

"Where's Jack got to?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Jim. "He was looking at a picture just along there, the last time I saw him."



"I don't see him anywhere about," said Buck, in an uneasy voice, and he walked rapidly back. He came to the picture, stopped in front of it, and looked eagerly round for Jack. He saw the band of singers a short distance away, but took no notice of them. He had seen scores of such bands during the evening. Little did he dream that, under cover of those harmless looking revellers, the body of his young comrade was being dragged among the acacia bushes by the monk and the dancing girl.



CHAPTER XXI.

JACK FINDS HIMSELF IN BAD HANDS.

When Jack came to himself again, he felt faint and sick, and his head ached dully. This was the effect of the powerful drug which had been used to overcome him, but for the rest he was unhurt and quite himself. He found at once that he was securely bound hand and foot. His ankles were fastened together by a short cord, his hands were tied behind him, and a rope ran round the middle of his body and tethered him securely to a strong post. But he was not gagged, and his eyes were free.

He looked eagerly around the place in which he found himself. It was a native hut, built of canes and reeds, woven upon a framework formed of saplings and stronger trees. The floor was of earth, and he could see the whole of the bare, empty room, for in one corner a lamp stood on the floor, and gave sufficient light to show him every nook in the place. Somewhere, not far away, there was a hoarse roar of water, as if a river leapt over falls near at hand.

Jack raised his voice and shouted. He could not move, but his throat was free. Twice or thrice he shouted the names of his companions. The only answer to his call was a light mocking laugh outside the door, which swung half open straight before him. Then a figure appeared in the doorway, a figure in a tight yellow robe and short embroidered jacket, the dancing girl who had ensnared him. But even as he opened his mouth eagerly to speak to her, he was silenced. The figure was drawing aside the muslin veil from its head. As the soft shimmering folds of the delicate wrapper slipped away, Jack's heart leaped within him. He knew that face. This was no dancing girl. It was the half-caste in disguise. It was Saya Chone, the man who had stopped him on Rushmere Heath, the man who had slipped out of his clutch at Brindisi.

"Ah," said the half-caste, squatting down in front of Jack, "I have no need to ask if you know me. I see recognition in your astonished face. Well, does it now surprise you that a dancing girl should know so much of your business up in these hills?"

"So it was you, you rascal, was it?" said Jack, drawing a deep breath. "You, all the time."

"I, all the time," chuckled the half-caste, clicking consonants between his teeth.

"If you'd have spoken out, I should have known you," said Jack.

"Ah, possibly," said Saya Chone; "but then for my purpose the soft voice, the gentle whisper, was the only thing."

"What do you mean by this, and what do you want with me?" demanded Jack.

"Orders, orders, I am acting under orders," murmured the half-caste, waving his brown hand in the air. "And I do not want you at all. It is merely my business to hand you over to my patron U Saw. It is he who wants you, not I."

"And what does he want me for?" said Jack.

"Ah," murmured Saya Chone, "that I shall not tell you now. It is not good for the servants of U Saw to interfere too much in their master's business. Well, I must prepare for the march."

He clapped his hands, and a tall, thin man in white robes came in. Saya Chone said a few words to the newcomer, and the latter sat down and fixed his dark, menacing eyes on Jack.

"This is a Malay, who is entirely devoted to U Saw's service," said the half-caste, with an evil grin. "He is a very useful man, for he is absolutely the cleverest hand with the strangling noose that I have ever known. I believe he could strangle a child in its mother's arms and she would know nothing about it. You have already had a slight taste of his skill on two occasions. Once on that heath in your queer, cold England, and again to-night. But as he was under strict orders on both occasions not to take your life, he spared you the last touch of his art, that sharp, neat twist which breaks his victim's spinal column as if he was snapping a bit of dry stick."

Saya Chone turned to go, but paused at the door and looked over his shoulder.

"I heard you shouting as I came in," he said. "If you have a fancy for that amusement, pray shout as much as you like. But I ought to warn you that it is a pure waste of breath. We have carried you nearly a couple of miles into the jungle, and fifty times the uproar you could make would be quite useless to attract attention."

He left the hut, and Jack sat back against the post to think over his desperate situation. He had fallen into the hands of the very people that he and his comrades were trying to circumvent. How they had discovered their line of march, and been enabled to lay this clever trap for him, he could not imagine. But one thing he saw clearly, that U Saw's arm was very long in this country, and that his net for information was spread abroad very widely and very successfully.

He looked across at the Strangler, and found the dark bright eyes of the Malay fixed intently upon him. Jack had been thinking to test the strength of the knots and the cords which bound him, but in the presence of this keen watchman it was useless, and he bent down his eyes in thought once more.

"I am to be carried to U Saw," he thought. "Then my father must be there already. At any rate I shall see him, I hope, and find out what has happened to him, and how he has been treated."

Several hours now passed in complete silence. Jack's bonds chafed him miserably, but he could do nothing to relieve himself, and the Malay watched him with fierce alertness at every moment. Then the ricketty door was jerked open again, and Saya Chone came in.

"It is the dark hour before the dawn," he laughed jeeringly. "A capital time to slip away while all the revellers are sleeping, and the forest paths are empty. Your conveyance awaits you, my lord."

He said two words to the Strangler, and drew a revolver from beneath his jacket. He had thrown aside his disguise as a dancing girl, and now appeared in the rich tartan silk kilt, the jacket, and turban-like head-dress of a prosperous Burman.

"Get up," he said curtly to Jack, while the Strangler unfastened the rope which bound the captive's feet and also that which bound his body to the post.

Jack got up, and Saya Chone motioned to him to go outside, and Jack went, with the Malay and the half-caste in close attendance. Resistance was impossible. His hands were still bound behind his back, and the half-caste held a big, blue "Smith and Wesson" within two inches of his ear.

In front of the hut loomed up a huge beast looking monstrous in the light of a couple of lanterns held by attendants. It was an elephant, and a ladder was placed against the open howdah fixed on its back; the great beast was swinging trunk and tail impatiently, and its driver was already seated behind the huge head.

"Up with you," said Saya Chone. Jack glanced round, and saw nothing but dark, fierce, inimical faces all about him.

"No chance in the world at present," he thought, and began slowly to climb the ladder. It was very awkward work with no hand free, but the Strangler stretched out a long arm, supported him to the top rung, then thrust him violently forward, so that Jack rolled into the howdah. It was the simplest form of this kind of carriage, and was exactly like a huge open basket of strong wicker-work fastened on the elephant's back. Before Jack could recover himself from his fall, the Malay and two other men bounded into the howdah, and flung themselves on the prisoner. In a trice they had strapped his ankles together again. Then they swung him into a sitting posture, and lashed his arms firmly to the back of the howdah.

Next they descended, another figure leapt up, and the ladder was taken away. The newcomer gave an order, and the elephant driver spoke to his huge beast in a low voice. The elephant at once swung forward, and in a moment the hut and its lanterns were left behind, and they were moving through the darkness of the jungle.

Jack had known by the voice that it was the half-caste who was his companion in the howdah, but he said nothing, and Saya Chone, too, was silent. Soon the half-caste lighted a huge Burmese cheroot, and in the light, almost the flare, of this immense cigar, nine or ten inches long and an inch thick, Jack saw now and again his beardless brown face, his big, shining, evil eyes.

When the dawn came and Jack could look about him, they were traversing a narrow path through jungle so thick that the sky could scarcely be seen overhead.

"Ah," said Saya Chone, breaking the silence at last, "you may look round, my lord, but you will never be able to keep in mind the details of the route. I shall take you into the hills by paths so hidden in the jungle or along ravines so deep that to track you will be impossible."

Jack was silent for a moment. Then he spoke. "Shall I see my father?" he asked.

Saya Chone laughed. "You will see what U Saw wills that you shall see," he said mockingly. "I am U Saw's humble servant, and can say no more."

Jack made no reply. He was sorry he had spoken, but the question had slipped out on the impulse of the moment.

All that day they travelled on, and at night they camped in a hollow among the rocks at the foot of a tall cliff. Jack was not ill-treated, and plenty of food was given to him, but the keenest watch was kept upon his every movement, and escape was a thing altogether beyond his reach. His captors were six in number, including the man who drove the elephant. The driver and Saya Chone were Jack's companions on the great beast, and when they were on the move the captive was always lashed tightly to the framework of the howdah. The other four, the Malay and three companions, rode the strong, nimble ponies of the country. The baggage of the party was conveyed on a pack-pony, and they travelled at a good speed.

On the second morning, Saya Chone sat on the edge of the howdah, purring at his huge cheroot, while the Strangler and a companion lashed Jack into position. The half-caste had been superintending the operation with his revolver at Jack's ear, until the knots were tight, and our hero could not move.

"This is a very good idea, indeed," he murmured, "this carrying of a prisoner in a howdah on a pad-elephant. I had an idea it would be a success, but it is better than I thought. It is a neat, little, portable prison. It is far better than tying the feet of an active young man under a pony's barrel. The young man may dig his heels in and gallop off after all. But tied up in a howdah he is quite safe."

Jack paid no attention whatever to the half-caste's sneers and jeers: he had resolved to take his gruel without whining, and he bore everything in stoical silence.

Two hours' march brought them to a clearing in the jungle, and the road ran between small paddy-fields. This meant that a native village was near at hand, and Jack looked out for the slight huts of reed and cane in which the villagers lived. To his surprise he saw nothing. And not to his surprise alone. He could not understand the words used by his companions, but he saw plainly that they were puzzled about something. Then the cries of wonder broke out loudly as they passed a grove of bamboos and came upon a scene of extraordinary destruction. The native village had been built in shelter of the bamboos, only a little place, a cluster of fifteen or twenty huts. But every house lay in ruins as if the place had been knocked about the villagers' ears with a huge flail. Near at hand a man lay dead, his body horribly crushed and battered. No sign of life was to be observed about the place.

But while the travellers stared in wonder on the havoc which had been made, they were suddenly attacked by the author of it, and knew that their own lives were in deadly peril. There was a terrific crashing among the bamboos, and then a huge, dark object was seen to be bursting a way through the tall stems. All but Jack knew at once what it meant; he was enlightened in an instant.

"A 'rogue' elephant! A 'rogue' elephant!" cried Saya Chone, and the driver urged the pad-elephant forward with voice and spear.

Then Jack understood. His father had told him many times how that a big, savage male will often leave a herd of wild elephants, take up a solitary life in the jungle, and become a "rogue." There is no more terrible beast to be met with. His enormous size and strength, his terrible ferocity, make him the king of the jungle. He attacks all he meets, and tramples every foe under his huge feet.

This "rogue" had evidently been attracted to the clearing by the paddy-fields, where the elephant loves to feed. Then, irritated probably by some attempt of the natives to drive him away, he had attacked their village and swept it out of existence. Now he was charging savagely upon the newcomers.

He came at them across the open with terrific speed. Jack had not the faintest idea that so ponderous a beast could move at such a pace, and he stared with fascinated eyes at the extraordinary sight. The "rogue" was an immense tusker, a big, wild, savage-looking brute, who charged with up-lifted trunk, and now trumpeted with so tremendous a note that the jungle and the hill-sides rang with the hoarse thunder. His course was laid straight for the men in front, two of the attendants on ponies. The Malay, the remaining attendant, and the pack-pony were behind the pad-elephant.

The ponies, obedient to their riders, had at first bounded forward, but when that frightful trumpeting broke out, and they saw the huge tusker thundering upon them, they were seized with such fear that they stopped and stood still, trembling in every limb. Before their riders could urge them on, the immense brute was upon them. One of the riders, a bold fellow, stood up in the stirrups, and struck at the "rogue" with his dah. But he might as well have struck with a straw. The monster literally swept the two ponies down in his stride, trampling them under foot in his frightful charge. The man who had used his heavy sword to so little effect, went down with his pony. The second man had leapt from his saddle, and he ran at full speed for a teak tree, intending to swarm up its trunk.

His flying figure caught the eye of the "rogue" just as he was about to turn and trample on those he had hurled to the ground. Now the savage brute strode on, and it was seen how swift was his great lumbering stride. He caught the man up, long before the fugitive was anywhere near the tree, and hurled him to the ground with a stroke of his tusk. Then he pulled up and deliberately knelt down on the unlucky wretch, who screamed horribly as his life was crushed out of him by the tremendous weight of the gigantic beast.



CHAPTER XXII.

THE TWO ELEPHANTS.

All this passed directly below Jack's horrified eyes. The pad-elephant was so frightened at the advent of this savage specimen of his own species, that he had turned stupid and made no attempt to obey his driver's orders. Instead, he turned and backed slowly from the place, keeping his head towards the "rogue." Thus Jack saw the ferocious brute swiftly crush the life out of the man upon whom he knelt, then leap up and rush back to the spot where the two ponies and the rider who had used the dah were still lying on the ground.

The ponies had both been trodden on in that terrific charge, and the man, untouched by the elephant, had been flung three or four yards, and lay half-stunned by his fall. As he scrambled to his feet the "rogue" was upon him. With a scream of rage the maddened brute bent down his huge head and delivered a sweeping stroke with his tusk. The great sharp spear of ivory struck the man in the back and was driven clean through the body. The elephant raised his head and swung the man high above the ground. Jack shuddered as he saw the writhing figure impaled on that huge tusk.

For a moment the elephant held his victim aloft as if in triumph, then with a swing of his head he hurled the man far away, and looked round for fresh victims. At the next moment the earth shook under his tread as he thundered down upon the pad-elephant and the burden it bore.

"Cut me loose!" roared Jack to the half-caste. "What chance have I got, tied to this howdah?"

But Saya Chone, ashen with fear, clung to the edge of the car, and had eyes and ears for nothing save for the great beast charging full upon them. Jack hurled himself to and fro, trying to slacken a little the bonds which held him a prisoner under such fearful circumstances. If the pad-elephant would only make a fight of it, there would be a chance for its riders to slip down and escape, but how could Jack help himself?

As the "rogue" made his last few sweeping strides upon them, the pad-elephant seemed to pluck up the courage of desperation. He was a fine, big, powerful fellow, though not equal in size to his wild enemy, and now he took a step or two forward, threw out his huge forehead, and met his enemy in full career.

The crash as the two huge beasts charged into each other was tremendous. The pad-elephant was driven back half a dozen yards, but he kept his feet. Then the two immense creatures, head braced to head and tusks locked in tusks, began a steady trial of strength, each striving to force the other back.

Now Saya Chone plucked out his heavy revolver, and, leaning over the edge of the howdah, began to fire swiftly into the head and body of the savage "rogue." But though the bullets cut deeply into the flesh, and the blood spouted freely, the big brute troubled nothing about that. As far as reaching any vital part went, the revolver might have been a pop-gun, and the wild elephant gave himself up entirely to the struggle with his tame brother.

In a few minutes it was seen that he was carrying the day. The pad-elephant, with deep grunts of anger and fear, began to give way before the fierce strength and impetuosity of his terrible opponent. Jack looked round and saw that they were alone; the Malay and the fourth attendant had fled from the place.

Then, at the next moment, the elephant under them gave up the fight. He suddenly backed off, turned, and lumbered across the clearing in full flight. The "rogue" threw up his trunk, and trumpeted a roar of victory, then dashed after the pad-elephant in savage pursuit. He was much swifter, and soon came up on the flank where Jack, by turning his head, had him in full view. Jack saw the small, fierce eyes burning with fury, and then the head was bent and the great forehead was driven against the flying enemy. The shock was such that the pad-elephant was driven to its knees, the driver was hurled over its head, and Saya Chone flung headlong out of the car. Jack alone remained in the howdah, held fast by his bonds.

Again the "rogue" elephant charged his enemy, and now the latter was flung over on to its side, and the rim of the howdah brushed the ground. Jack looked up in despair. The vast bulk of the infuriated elephant hung right over him as the "rogue" prepared to trample upon the foe whom he had hurled to the ground. In vain did Jack dash himself to and fro in his bonds; he was fastened only too securely, and he knew that the least stroke of the foot now raised above his head would crush him as surely as a steam-hammer would crush a nut. At the next second Jack saw a gleaming white tusk dart down towards him as the "rogue" bent his head and struck.

The tusk went through the howdah within six inches of Jack's leg, and was buried deep in the back of the pad-elephant Then the "rogue," as he withdrew the dripping spear of ivory, caught sight of something and turned his wicked little eyes on it. He saw the driver and Saya Chone at some little distance running for their lives, and his fickle fancy turned to the thoughts of making short work of them before he finished with his tame brother.

Away he went in pursuit of this new object, and the pad-elephant scrambled to its feet, and stood for a few moments as if bewildered and uncertain what to do. During these few moments Jack saw the driver caught and felled to earth by the huge beast before whose savage might all stood helpless. Saya Chone had far outrun his companion, and the half-caste disappeared among the trees as the "rogue" began to trample upon the driver, whose frightful screams were silenced as both breath and life itself were swiftly crushed out of the body, so soon made pulp under those huge round feet.

Suddenly the pad-elephant wheeled about with big clumsy movements, and was off at a good round lumbering trot in the opposite direction. He had seen quite enough of this savage brother of the jungle, and had no wish for further punishment. But the "rogue" had no intention of letting him go so easily. Leaving the driver, the wild elephant dashed after the tame one at full speed.

And now began a most extraordinary race. The pad-elephant darted straight into the jungle and took the country as it came, straight before him, thinking of nothing but escape. He dashed through groves of bamboos and saplings, cutting his way clean through; he raced grunting and puffing up hill-side and down ravines; he dodged through the big trees with an agility and swiftness most wonderful in so heavy and clumsy a beast, and all the time his enemy hung upon his rear, sometimes near enough to gore his flank, sometimes out-distanced for a little as the tame beast, frenzied with fear and pain, put out an extraordinary burst of speed. And in the howdah, fast bound still to the tough wicker-work, was Jack, the only spectator of this marvellous chase through the jungle, and one with an immense stake in it.

When the "rogue" came up, Jack's heart beat thick with anxiety. If the creature that bore him was once more knocked down, then he knew that it would be all over with him. He would certainly be crushed like a fly in the terrific struggle which would follow. When the pad-elephant got away, Jack breathed a little more freely, until he heard his enemy's ponderous steps once again thundering up.

Mile after mile, through jungle or over open plain, this marvellous chase went on, and still the pad-elephant raced snorting for his life, still the furious "rogue" pounded at his heels in hot pursuit.

Jack was nearly shaken to pieces. He braced his feet against the side of the howdah, and propped himself firmly against a corner of the huge basket in which he rode. More than once the curling trunk of the pursuer was raised above his head, but, as is well known, the wild elephant hesitated to attack a rider on the tame one's back. For three full hours the furious monarch of the jungle drove the pad-elephant before him, a ride Jack never forgot to the end of his days. Then they came out on a wide grassy plain by a river, where a large herd of wild elephants was standing knee-deep in the stream, solemnly spouting water over their backs.

On rushed the pad-elephant, now panting and almost ready to fall from exhaustion, towards his fellows. But the "rogue," a hater of his kind, pulled up, trumpeted a few shrill notes of defiance, turned, and trotted back into the jungle.

The pad-elephant now stood still, trembling from head to foot with his tremendous exertions. The herd of wild elephants, more than twenty in number, left the river and came towards the beast which bore the howdah and Jack. They marched up in slow and stately fashion, without any sign of anger, but apparently full of curiosity as to this newcomer and his strange equipment.

At the next moment Jack found himself in a most extraordinary position, his elephant being surrounded by the wild herd, whose trunks ran here and there over their tame brother like so many hands being stretched out to examine him. One big bull put his trunk into the howdah and ran it over Jack, who remained perfectly still, knowing that an incautious movement might arouse the animal's anger. But these creatures seemed as mild and gentle as the "rogue" had been ferocious. Before long their curiosity was satisfied, and they strolled away to crop the young bamboo shoots.

At last Jack breathed a little more freely. His wild ride had been a terrible business for him. A hundred and a hundred times had his heart come into his mouth when the great beast that bore him had plunged through groves where it seemed that over-hanging boughs must sweep howdah and rider from the elephant's back. But he had come through all these dangers safely, and now the "rogue" had gone back to the jungle and the pad-elephant was at peace.

Presently Jack underwent an odd experience. His elephant walked down to the river and took a long drink. Jack envied the lucky brute; he, too, was parched with thirst. But in another moment he had water enough and to spare, for the elephant, filling his trunk with water, began to cool himself by spouting it over his body, and in a very short time Jack was drenched to the skin.

"It's refreshing, at any rate," thought Jack, as he shut his eyes against a fresh deluge of yellow water. "I wish to goodness I could only work myself free. I've got clear away from Saya Chone and the Strangler, and that's something to the good."

He began again to work himself about in his bonds, but he was soon obliged to desist. He was already stiff, and he soon became very sore as he struggled with his fastenings, which seemed to be eating into his very flesh.

"It's no go," he said half-aloud. "I cannot shake myself loose," and he fell back into his corner.

His elephant now came out of the river, and looked around eagerly for food. The herd of wild ones was already deep in a large bamboo thicket, and the tame one went at once after them and began to crop and munch the bamboo shoots. The wild elephants, feeding as they went, plunged farther and farther into a region of wild jungle, far from any habitations of men, and the tame one steadily followed them, bearing on his back the young Englishman, a prisoner, and forced to accompany the elephant wherever he might go.

"I've heard," thought Jack, "that these tame ones will often break away and join wild herds. I'm in a pretty desperate fix if I've got to remain lashed in this howdah while this brute rambles far and wide with this troop of companions he has hit upon."

He looked around on every side, but saw nothing that could give him the slightest cause for hope. With every step he was being carried deeper and deeper into the recesses of the jungle where no hunter dare venture, where the elephant, the tiger, and the leopard rule as undisputed masters. His plight was terrible. Who would free him, who could free him of the bonds which held him in subjection to so cruel a fate?



CHAPTER XXIII.

THE PANTHAY WOOD-CUTTERS.

It was within an hour or two of dark, and Jack, faint with hunger and the strange and exhausting experience through which he had gone that day, was hanging listlessly in his bonds. The elephants had gathered in an open stretch at the foot of a deep ravine, and all was very quiet. The pad-elephant stood with his trunk gently swinging, his huge ears slowly flapping; he had eaten and drunk, and now he was taking a rest.

Suddenly into the silence of the narrow valley there fell the sound of blows. Thud—thud—thud. A pause. Thud—thud—thud, again and again. Jack started and listened eagerly. There was a ring about the sound which told him what it was.

"It's the sound of an axe on a tree," cried Jack to himself, and he knew that other human beings were in the neighbourhood. He collected all his breath and gave a loud shout. Again and again he shouted. The noise on the hill-side far above was now stilled, and once more Jack roared at the top of his voice.

At the next moment his outcries were drowned in the wild trumpeting of the elephants. The human notes had disturbed them, and they trumpeted shrilly and moved uneasily away from the neighbourhood of the pad-elephant. Then the wild herd set off at a trot, went a mile or more up the ravine, and came to a halt near another feeding-place, a clump of young bamboos. The tame elephant with its burden had followed steadily, and now Jack shouted no more. He feared lest his cries should disturb the herd so much that the wild creatures should take flight, and run a great distance. If they did so, the pad-elephant would be sure to follow them, and thus very possibly carry Jack completely out of reach of the human beings, whoever they were, that he had heard at work among the trees high up on the bank of the ravine.

So now Jack was silent, but he looked about eagerly on every hand for some sign of human life. If the people had heard his cries, surely they would come to see who called for help in such a place. His elephant was now quietly feeding with the rest, and the last rays of the sun were shining through a gap in the hills straight into the hollow where the elephants were gathered.

Looking eagerly back on the track the herd had followed, Jack saw something moving in the wild plum-bushes about three hundred yards away. He looked closer and saw that it was a man, a native. His heart leaped for joy. Whether friends or enemies, perhaps he was about to be loosed from his dreadful position. Now he saw a second man, and the two dark figures, both naked save for a waist-cloth, crept slowly towards him under cover of the bushes.

They were a couple of Panthay wood-cutters, felling teak trees on the edge of the ravine. At present the ravine was dry, but in the rainy season an ample flood of water roared along the hollow, a flood which would carry the teak logs down to the big river below. They had heard Jack's cries, and, wondering at the strange sound, had followed up in rear of the flying elephants.

Their surprise was immense when they saw a white sahib in the howdah on the elephant's back. But in this part of the country, where white men very rarely came, a white face was regarded with the deepest reverence, and the simple, harmless Panthays at once set about the task of relieving the sahib who seemed unable to rise in his carriage. One of them disappeared at once into the jungle, one remained in the bushes.

Jack saw that they were engaged upon some plan, and hoping that it meant his deliverance, he remained silent, and watched eagerly for what was about to happen.

Within ten minutes he saw one of the woodmen swarming up a tree some distance ahead, a tree growing beside the well-trodden path which wild beasts had made along the foot of the ravine. Then his companion showed himself among the bushes below and uttered a peculiar cry. The wild elephants stopped feeding at once. Always sensitive to the presence of man, which means danger, they gathered uneasily in a group. Then, following the lead of an immense bull, the patriarch of the herd, they lumbered along the path up the ravine and away from the wood-cutter who had shown himself.

Jack saw, to his immense relief and delight, that his elephant would pass directly below the branch where the second Panthay was now perched. As the pad-elephant jogged up, closing the file of the retreating herd, the native, swinging himself from the bough, dropped with the greatest ease and certainty into the howdah.

For a moment the Panthay, a short, strong, powerful man, looked upon Jack and his bonds with great surprise. Then he thrust forward the head of his axe, which he had carried with him all the time, and laid the keen edge against the cords which bound Jack to the howdah. In a trice Jack was free. He flung his arms up thankfully, but dropped them again with a groan. They were so stiff that all movement was painful.

He thanked the Panthay again and again, and patted his bare, smooth shoulder, and the native grinned and bowed before him. Then the wood-cutter pointed to the ground, and Jack nodded. He saw that the man wished him to drop from the howdah and leave the elephant. Jack was perfectly willing. It was plain that the pad-elephant meant to stick to his new friends and follow them wherever they roved.

The Panthay slipped down the right flank of the elephant and dropped to his feet like a cat. Jack was wretchedly stiff, but he also climbed over the side of the carriage which had been his prison, and let himself slide over the elephant's tail.

"I shall stand the least chance of being trodden on that way," thought Jack. He dropped to the ground all right, for the pad-elephant took not the least notice of their movements. But as for keeping his feet, that was impossible. He rolled to the earth, for his ankles were even more numbed than his wrists.

At this instant the second Panthay ran up. The natives seemed to understand at once what was wrong, for both began to rub Jack's ankles and wrists briskly. Jack had to set his teeth to keep back a cry of pain. After the long numbing confinement, it was pure agony when the blood began to move freely once more, but he grinned and bore it, and soon began to feel better for the treatment.

When he could stand up and walk a little, the Panthays beckoned to him to accompany them, and they went down the ravine, following the track used by the wild inhabitants of the place. The dusk was falling over the jungle when they reached the camp of the Panthays, a deep cave in the side of the ravine, where a few simple cooking-pots and a small store of rice furnished all the woodmen needed.

By signs Jack was invited to sit down on a big heap of dried grass at the side of the cave, and one of the men swiftly built a fire and put on a pot of rice to cook. Soon the simple meal was ready. The cooking-pot was swung from the fire, and the rice was flavoured with salt and other condiments; each of the latter articles was contained in a small neat cylinder of bamboo, and packed away again when done with in the basket which was the only baggage of the teak-cutters.

Jack was as hungry as a wolf, and he ate heartily of the food which his new friends offered to him. They were extremely respectful, called him phaya, my lord, the only word of their speech which he could make out, and did not touch a single grain of rice until he had finished.

While they ate, Jack rested on the soft, dried grass, and went through his pockets to see where he stood. Somewhat to his surprise, Jack found that his captors had relieved him of nothing save his weapons. His money-belt round his waist, the contents of his pockets, his watch, everything had been left untouched.

"No," thought Jack, "I don't know what their game was, but it was a lot bigger thing than just collaring what I had about me. However, it's lucky my money's left. It's bound to be useful even in the jungle. If I can only get these fellows to lead me to a village, I can find a guide to put me on the road towards joining Buck and Jim again."

The thought of Buck and Jim turned Jack's thoughts towards them, and their surprise and consternation when they found that he was missing.

"What will they do, I wonder," thought Jack. "They'll never in the world be able to discover what's become of me. I must try and hit a line back towards them as soon as possible."

His eyes now turned on the Panthays, busily devouring the last of their rice.

"How can I talk to these chaps?" thought Jack. "I'll give them a tip. They've done me a first-rate good turn. Perhaps they'll be willing to do more if they see there's something to be got by it."

He drew a handful of rupees from his belt, and gave them five each. The woodmen stared in astonishment at so much wealth, fingering the big silver coins with childlike wonder and delight. Then they bent before Jack, and made him at least a score of deep obeisances, and poured forth floods of thanks. Jack did not understand their words, but their movements told all they wished to convey.

Each tucked his new-gained riches in his waist-cloth, and then they busied themselves in making Jack comfortable for the night. He was soon satisfied. He was far too tired to be very critical of his sleeping quarters. As a matter of fact, they were excellent. The cave was dry and warm, and the Panthays made up for him a big heap of soft dried grass.

The thought of sleep made Jack's eyes drop to of themselves. In a couple of minutes after he stretched himself on the couch of grass, he was deep in slumber.



CHAPTER XXIV.

AN UNWELCOME MEETING.

When he awoke the next morning the pot of rice was once more bubbling over the fire, and one of the natives was squatted near by, feeding the fire with dry chips; the second man was not to be seen. The Panthay feeding the fire looked up with a cheerful grin when he heard Jack move, and pointed to the cooking-pot, as if to assure him that breakfast would soon be ready.

Jack stretched himself and yawned. After his long sleep he felt like a giant refreshed. He wondered what time it was, and glanced at his watch. But his watch had stopped, he had forgotten to wind it up. The sun, however, showed him, by its height, that the morning was well advanced.

"I've slept off my weariness with a vengeance," murmured Jack to himself. "It must be nine or ten o'clock by the look of the sun."

At this moment the native by the fire uttered a cry which was answered from without. The second Panthay ran up at that moment, panting as if he had travelled fast and far. He bore upon his shoulders a basket from which he took a couple of chickens, half a dozen plantains, and a fresh supply of rice.

"Then there's a village somewhere in the neighbourhood," thought Jack. "But it may be ten or a dozen miles off. This fellow looks as if he had had a long run for the stuff. I suppose it is in my honour."

The two men prepared one of the chickens in a trice. They stripped off the feathers, cut up the fowl, and broiled the pieces over the fire on little skewers of hard wood. In a short time an excellent breakfast of broiled chicken, rice, and plantain was set before him, and Jack devoured it with the utmost relish. Then he set himself to work by means of signs to make them understand that he wished them to lead him to the village from which the Panthay had fetched the supplies.

In the end they understood him, and put their axes in a corner of the cave. By motions of their heads and hands they gave him to understand that they would lay by work for the day, and become his guides. Jack patted them on the back, and gave them another couple of rupees apiece to strengthen them in this excellent resolution.

When he had finished his meal, Jack sat down again on the heap of grass to await the pleasure of his companions. The second man had not eaten, but he soon despatched his portion of rice, and then they were ready for the road.

They left the cave, and the two Panthays led the way down the ravine, retracing the line the elephants had taken in coming into this part of the country.

"That's good," thought Jack. "We're striking on the road back at once. I wish I knew the name of the village where the festival was held, but I'm pretty certain to find someone in the place these chaps come from who can tell me. People were marching to the feast from a much greater distance away than this can be."

Their progress was slow, for the day was one of scorching heat. The naked Panthays slipped through the jungle as easily as the monkeys skipped through the trees, but Jack could not move at any speed. As the sun approached high noon a halt was called in shade of a thicket on a little ridge, where the air was fresher than in the dark, steaming hollows. Here they stayed for three hours, and Jack, after he had eaten the meal the Panthays prepared, dozed in the shade.

When he saw his guides gathering their baggage and packing it into the big basket which one carried slung over his shoulders, Jack sprang to his feet, stretched himself, and strolled forward half a dozen yards. They had halted beside a narrow path which crossed the ridge, and he wished to see toward what kind of country below the path led.

The bushes thinned, and he saw that a vast plain was opening out before him. But he did not leave the cover of the edge of the thicket. Something moving below caught his eye, and he parted the tall shoots of a bush before him, and peeped through the huge trails of pink and crimson convolvuli which festooned the branches of the low trees. Straight before him the path ran down a steep slope and then wound over a broad plain, showing itself here and there in the gaps between patches of bamboo and acacias and palms. It was among a clump of palms at some distance that Jack had caught sight of a moving object, and he now looked eagerly to see it come into view again.

It was not that he feared any particular evil at the moment, but in his present desperate circumstances, utterly stranded in these wilds among savage hill-tribes, he knew not at any moment when a savage enemy might appear. He knew well that he had been lucky in falling in with these quiet wood-cutters, and he hoped that such luck would stay with him for a little till he could rejoin his friends.

The thought had scarcely crossed his mind when he saw that it was vain, and that at this very moment he stood in the utmost danger from his worst and deadliest foes. The moving objects he had seen came in sight once more, a couple of naked fellows in turban and waist-cloth. Jack knew them for Panthays, like the men who were now behind him making ready for the march. Then, at the next second, he saw two brilliant spots of colour, and knew that the Panthays were not alone. A little cavalcade of six riders, mounted on ponies, followed the two naked men on foot. The whole of the tiny procession passed over a little clearing, and was lost again in a clump of bamboos.

Jack's heart beat fast and he drew a deep breath. Who were these men the Panthays were leading towards him? He remembered two of his enemies yesterday, and the two leading riders brought them to mind again. Saya Chone had worn a head-dress of brilliant flaming scarlet, the Strangler a turban of bright yellow.

Again the little procession filed into sight, out of the bamboos. Scarlet and yellow the head-dresses of the first couple of mounted men flashed vivid into the burning radiance of the sunlight. The riders were too far off for Jack to make out their faces, but he did not need that; he felt in his bones that his terrible enemies were upon him once more, and he turned to fly. It was plain enough, too, how they had hit upon his whereabouts. They had followed up the tracks of the flying elephants, and inquired in every village round-about. Then the Panthay, returning to his home for food, had spoken of the sahib they had found among the hills, and had put the pursuers on Jack's trail.

As Jack turned he heard a grunt of surprise. One of the Panthays had stepped forward and caught sight of the approaching cavalcade. Jack sprang upon him, seized his naked shoulder, and drew him back into shelter of the thicket. The two men looked at him in wonder. Our hero had nothing but signs with which to communicate to these men the danger in which he stood. He chose three effective movements. He pointed to the oncoming strangers, he pointed to himself; finally he seized the dah which one carried swinging in a thong over his shoulders, and made a motion as of passing the keen weapon across his throat.

By their looks of intelligence he saw that the Panthays had fully grasped his meaning. They spoke swiftly to each other for a few moments.



Jack awaited the upshot in keenest anxiety. If these men did not stand by him he was indeed lost. Then, to his immense relief, the elder man, he who had dropped into the howdah and had taken the lead from the first, stepped forward, raised Jack's hand, and kissed it. Then he pointed to the depth of the jungle. Jack nodded and patted him on the shoulder. The younger Panthay swung the basket on his back, and away glided the three, leaving the path, and striking off directly among the trees.

In two minutes they were out of sight of their camping-place, and as the advancing party was not yet at the foot of the slope, Jack never doubted but that the half-caste would be thrown off the scent, and would pass on towards the ravine where the wood-cutters were known to be at work. But he had made one mistake, the error of supposing that the two Panthays in front of the horsemen were the first of the party. They were not. A single tracker had led the way some distance ahead, and him Jack had missed among the thickets and groves which hid the path here and there. So that, as the three fugitives disappeared among the thicker growth of jungle, a dark figure gained the crown of the slope, and with swift and noiseless tread approached their camping-place.

The quick eye of the Panthay at once caught sight of the retreating men, above all of the sahib, so easily to be known by his dress, and the tracker drew back instantly into the bushes.



CHAPTER XXV.

THE CAVE IN THE RAVINE.

In the meanwhile Jack and his companions hurried forward, quite unconscious that they had been spied upon. The elder Panthay led the way through the jungle, and within a mile they came to the edge of a steep descent. Down this they climbed with much difficulty, swinging themselves by creepers and holding on to the boles of saplings until they gained the foot of a deep ravine.

The Panthay paused and pointed with a laugh. Jack nodded cheerfully.

"By George!" he murmured to himself, "we shan't be hard up for a hiding-place here."

The wall of the farther side of the ravine was honey-combed with black holes, looking for all the world as if a colony of gigantic sand-martins had built their nests in the place. Jack knew that these were the mouths of caves, and he ran swiftly after the Panthays as they hurried for a hole which was within easy reach of the ground.

A small fig tree grew below the mouth of the cave. Jack slipped his foot into the crutch where a bough struck away from the parent stem, swung himself up, and tumbled into the hollow, which was an irregular circle about nine feet across. The Panthays at once followed him, and all three pushed over the broken floor within, towards the shelter of the cave.

Inside, the place hollowed and widened out. Thirty feet back from the entrance it was dusky, and here Jack seated himself on a huge fragment of rock which had fallen from the roof. He was very glad of a rest and of a chance to wipe the sweat out of his eyes, as it was terribly punishing for a European to have to hurry on foot through the frightful heat of so scorching a day.