"Oh, nonsense, nonsense!" said Murray, fidgeting. "She has been very patient and kind of an evening in listening to me, though I am afraid I have often bored her terribly with my long-winded twaddle about ornithology and botany."

"I can vouch for it you have not, and also that you have caused great disappointment when you have not come and joined us."

"Oh, fancy, my dear sir," said Murray, tugging at his great brown beard, and colouring like a girl; "your imagination."

"It is her father's, her mother's, the Greigs' and my wife's imagination too; and this experiment of hers—commenced directly after you had been telling us all how difficult you found it with your big fingers to manipulate the tiny sun-birds—confirms what we thought."

"My dear sir, what nonsense!" cried Murray, sweeping a bird-skin off the table in his confusion, as he snatched up his pipe, lit it, and began to smoke. "I talked like that because I wanted that idle young scamp, Ned, to devote his fingers to the task. I had not the most remote idea that it would make a young lady commence such an uncongenial pursuit."

"Straws show which way the wind blows."

"Look here, sir," cried Murray, jumping up, and making the bamboo floor creak as he strode up and down. "I am not such a fool or so blind as not to comprehend what you mean. Miss Amy Barnes is a very sweet, amiable young lady."

"Far more so than you think," said Mr Braine, warmly. "She is a good daughter—a dear girl, whom I love as well as if she were my own child. I shall never forget the way in which she devoted herself to my boy when he came out here, still weak, and a perfect skeleton, and it is my tender affection for the girl that makes me speak as I do."

"Then, then—oh, I am very sorry—very sorry indeed," cried Murray. "I wish to goodness I had never come. It is nonsense, madness, impossible. I am nearly forty—that is over four and thirty. I am a confirmed bachelor, and I would not be so idiotically conceited as to imagine, sir, that the young lady could have even a passing fancy for such a dry-as-dust student as myself. I tell you honestly, sir, I have never once spoken to the lady but as a gentleman, a slight friend of her father, would."

"My dear Murray, we have only known you a few weeks, but that has been long enough to make us esteem and trust—"

"Exactly; and it is preposterous."

"That means, you could never care for the lady well enough to ask her to be your wife?"

"Never—certainly—never—impossible—that is—at least—no, no, no, quite impossible. I am a bookworm, a naturalist, and I shall never marry."

"I am sorry," said Mr Braine, thoughtfully, "for, to be frank, I rather thought there was a growing liking on your part for Amy."

"A mistake, sir—a mistake, quite," said Murray, warmly.

"And it would have been a happy circumstance for us now, at this rather troublesome time."

"Eh? Troublesome? What do you mean? Is anything more the matter?"

"Yes," said Mr Braine, with his brow full of lines. "I may be wrong— we may be wrong. We have dreaded something of the kind might happen, but years have gone on, and we have had no occasion to think anything serious till now."

"You startle me. What do you mean?" said Murray, excitedly.

"Well, you see the rajah is a Mussulman."

"Yes, of course. Allah, Mahomet, and so on."

"He has several wives."

"Yes, whom he keeps shut up like birds in a cage. Well, what of that?"

"Last night we were all very much disturbed. It was before you came in."

"Ah! Yes, I noticed you were all very quiet. Why was it?"

"The rajah had sent Amy a present. It was a magnificent specimen of goldsmith's work—a large bangle of great value."

"Well?"

"Gentlemen, especially eastern gentlemen, do not send such presents as that to ladies without having some ulterior object in view."

"What!" roared Murray, in so fierce a tone of voice that Hamet came running in.

"Master call?"

"No, no: go away. Nothing.—Here Braine, you horrify me. That old tyrant dare to—to think—to send her presents—to—oh, it is horrible. The old scoundrel! He to presume to—oh!"

"We may be mistaken. It may be only a compliment."

"Nothing of the sort, sir. He meant an offer of marriage, which is sure to follow, and—oh, the insolent, tyrannical, old scoundrel!"

Mr Braine looked at Murray with a grave smile.

"This indignation's all real?" he said.

"Real? I could go and horsewhip him."

"Then you do care for Amy Barnes, in spite of your short acquaintance, Murray; and I tell you frankly I am very glad, for it may put a stop to a terrible complication, which might have risked all our lives."

Murray's face was scarlet, and he stood looking at his visitor without a word, for in his heart of hearts he owned that he was right, and that out there, in those wild jungles, he, Johnstone Murray, naturalist, who had never thought of such a thing before, had found his fate.

"Yes," said Mr Braine again, thoughtfully, "a serious complication, which might have risked all our lives."



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

THE WHITE HEN.

Meanwhile Ned and Frank had gone off eagerly to the attack upon the lurking water-dragon, terrible, in its way, as that which Saint George slew, and about half-way to the stockade they caught sight of Tim Driscol, seated under a tree, puffing away at a homemade pipe, composed of a short piece of bamboo with a reed stuck in the side. He had a neatly-made little basket by his knee, and as he saw the lads coming, he tapped the ashes out of his pipe, thrust it in his pocket, and rose to pick up his basket, in which there was evidently something alive.

"Bedad and I began to think ye didn't mane to come," he said, with his eyes twinkling.

"Oh, I should have come, Tim, if he hadn't," replied Frank.

"Av coorse ye would.—No offinse, Mr Murray, but why don't ye have a dress like the young master here? Don't he look fine? I hear you took him for a young rajah."

"You come along, and don't talk stuff!" cried Frank. "Is that the chicken?" and he nodded toward the basket. "Well sor, I'd like to tell the truth when I can."

"What do you mean? Haven't you got a chicken?" cried Frank, wrathfully. "No, sor."

"I gave you orders to get one for a bait, and if you haven't got one, it's no use for us to go on."

"I did go to get one, sor."

"Well?"

"And the baste at the farthest off house said he'd find one for me."

"Well? Why, you have got it," cried Frank; "I can hear it rustling in the basket."

"That isn't a chicken, sor."

"What is it, then?" cried Frank, impatiently.

"It's what he said was a chicken, sor."

"What is it, then?"

"I belave it's the ouldest hin about these parts, sor. He jabbered away in his haythen dialect, and swore it was a tinder young chicken; but it's an ould hin, that's laid eggs till she's tired, and won't lay any more, and he wants to sell her."

"But is it white?"

"Oh yes! it's white enough, sir."

"That will do, then. I don't suppose the croc can tell whether a bird's tender or tough. Come along."

Frank led on, leaving the palm houses behind, plunging among the trees, and winding in and out, till Ned recognised the spot where he had stopped to watch the river, and there he could see, lying about in the shade, eight or nine of the Malays, most of whom had spears, which stood leaning against the trunks of the trees.

"Now then, you two must talk English. I have got to speak in Malay, for I am going to do all the ordering this time. I say, Ned, you like fishing," he added, laughing. "You shall hold the line."

"But what are you going to do?"

"Wait a bit and you'll see," cried the lad; and he began to order the Malays about, the men hurrying here and there, and, evidently at his command, keeping right away from the banks of the river.

"Don't want to scare our fish," he said, hurriedly, to Ned. Then, as a man came up with a coil of rope, Frank undid a part of it, and showed that some feet of the end were not twisted, but all loose.

"Want to cutoff that bad bit?" said Ned, producing his knife.

"Bad, eh? Why, that's the beauty of it. I'm going to tie the hook on to it just there."

"But if you fish for a crocodile like that, he'll break away."

"Not he. They never do. If I fished with a hard piece of rope, he'd bite right through it."

"Then he must bite through that loose stuff. What is it—some kind of hemp?"

"No; fibre of the gamooti palm, and his teeth will only go through the loose stuff and bother him."

He asked for something in Malay, and one of the men handed him a curiously-shaped hook, which he attached to the loose fibrous rope, and then took a piece of stout twine from his pocket.

"Now, Tim," he cried, laughing, "give me the worm."

Tim opened the basket a little way, thrust in his hand, drew out the unfortunate hen, which was quite white, and began shrieking and flapping wildly till her wings were held down to her sides.

"Are you going to bait with that?" said Ned.

"Yes. Can't afford to bait with little boys and girls," replied Frank, merrily; "they come expensive, and the mothers don't like it."

"But you are going to kill it first?"

"Kill it? What for? We shouldn't get a bite if we did."

"But it's so horribly cruel."

"Is it? Well, I suppose it is, but if it wasn't killed this way, it would have been killed directly to make into a curry. This is a better end for it, for we shall save people's lives."

"If ye catch him, Masther Frank," said Tim.

"Oh, we shall catch him, Tim. You'll see. There, hold still."

As he spoke, Fred was busy tying the twine round the hen with ingenious knots, till the poor bird looked as if it had been put in harness; while, firmly secured in amongst the string bandages, and hidden by one of the wings, the hook lay ready for the reptile, if it did not prove to be too cunning to touch the bait.

"There!" cried Frank, at last; and he then said something to the Malays, from whom a murmur that was a chorus of approval, arose.

"Are you going to throw it into the river close by where I saw the monster!" whispered Ned.

"Throw it in? Why, it would drown the bird."

"Of course."

"Oh, I see you don't understand croc fishing," continued Frank, securing a piece of the fibre twine to one of the legs of the hen, and another to a stout peg of wood, leaving about five feet clear for the bird to move about.

These preparations made, Frank took the bird under his arm, twisted the rope twice about the hand which held the peg, and then, sticking a short stout staff in his belt, he stooped down, and, keeping the tree in which Ned had seen the monkey, between him and the water, he crept silently forward, dragging the rope after him, till he was close up. Then, taking the peg to which the hen was tethered, he drove it quickly and firmly down into the ground, as near to the edge of the bank as he could reach.

Ned watched him excitedly, and as he recalled his own adventure, he was in dread lest the reptile should make a rush at the gaily-clad figure, so occupied in his task that he would have been quite at the monster's mercy.

Similar thoughts evidently troubled the Malays, for five of the men took their spears from where they leaned, and stood some thirty feet behind the lad, ready to rush forward to his help. But there was no need. Frank worked quickly and well, driving the peg down into the ground with the club, sufficiently tightly to keep the hen from getting free, but not hard enough to prevent its being drawn by the reptile, supposing that the twine did not break.

It was only a minute's work before the club was thrust back into his waistband, and a quantity of the rope hauled down to the bank. Then the lad trotted rapidly back, leaving the hen walking disconsolately up and down with the hook beneath its wing, and dragging the loose rope here and there; while, so little was the poor thing troubled, that it began to scratch and peck about beneath the tree by the time Frank was talking eagerly to the Malays, who now lay down again with their spears ready.

"Shall I howld the rope, sor?" said Tim.

"No. Mr Murray likes fishing," replied the lad, with a grin; "and he shall hold the line till there's a bite. Better tie that other end, though, to that little tree."

Tim obeyed, and then seated himself in the shadiest place he could find, and took out his pipe again.

"Now, Ned, lay hold; and when the fish bites, give him plenty of line. Don't strike."

Ned took the rope offered to him eagerly, and yet with a feeling of reluctance, for the game was formidable.

"Let him go back into the river, and swallow the bait; then we'll talk to him. Now all lie down and be quiet."

The Malays were already as silent and motionless as a group in bronze, and Tim and the lads followed their example, every one watching the white hen, which, in happy ignorance of its perilous position, still pecked about quite close to the edge of the bank.

"Think it will come?" said Ned, after they had crouched there in silence for quite an hour.

"Can't say," whispered back the other. "More likely perhaps to bite of a night or early in the morning. Most likely to bite if we were not here. Fish always do if I leave my rod for a bit. Getting tired of waiting?"

"No; it's too exciting."

"No need to hold the rope without you like."

"But I do like. Will he pull very hard?"

"When he's hooked, but you must not let him pull hard when he first takes the hen. It's just like some kinds of fishing; you don't want to strike till the fish has swallowed the bait."

Another hour in that hot silence, and no signs of a crocodile. The Malays were all watchful, their dark eyes fixed on the white bird, and their spears ready; but Tim Driscol had fallen asleep with his pipe in his mouth, and the sight of the Irishman with his eyes closed, and his breath coming regularly, had a drowsy effect upon Ned, who half lay there on his side watching the glaring river, with the water looking every here and there like damascened metal. Then all at once, as Tim Driscol's breath came thickly, the hen was not there, the rope was running out fast, there was a sudden jerk, and Ned's eyes opened with a start.

"Don't go to sleep," whispered Frank. "He may come at any time."

"Don't go to sleep!" Then he had been asleep and dreaming, for there was the hen scratching about on the bank, and the rope lying just as it was before.

"I had only just closed my eyes, had I?"

"About five minutes, and your head was wagging about like a big fruit on a stalk. You don't want the croc to drag you into the river too."

These last words effectually drove away the drowsy sensation brought on by the silence and heat there beneath the trees; and, after a glance round to see that the Malays were all as watchful as ever, Ned settled down again to think about the white hen; about his own narrow escape, and then about the horrible mishap that morning, and of the poor girl's feelings as she felt herself seized by the great reptile.

"They ought to kill them all, Frank," he whispered.

"Kill whom?"

"The crocodiles. It is horrible to let these creatures be about the place."

"Very well; let's kill 'em all, then. There'll be plenty of sport. We're beginning with this one."

"But he does not come."

"Well then, let's give it up now and go. He is too artful. I daresay he sees us, and will not come till we are gone. We'll go away and come back this evening. That's the way the Malays catch the wretches. They don't stop to watch, only let the rope be tied to a tree, and then come back, and they often find one on."

"How do they kill it, then?"

"Same as we're going to kill this one when he is hooked; but, oh murder, I'm getting so precious hungry; let's give up now. I'll tell them we're not going to stay."

He crawled to the men, whispered softly to them for a few minutes, and then came back, pausing to rouse up Tim, who looked very stupid.

"Ready?" said Ned, who was still holding the rope attached to the hen. "No. I don't think I should like to give up. He may come yet."

"I don't know," said Frank. "The brute isn't hungry perhaps. I am, and I daresay there's a white chicken waiting at home nicely curried, and with plenty of cocoa-nut cream in it, and the whitest of rice round, ready for me. I'm hungry, and can bite; so can you. Let's be off and— eh? What?"

"Hist!" whispered Ned; "the water is moving. Look! look!"

They could only see a little of the water near the bank, where the lotus-leaves were, but they were evidently being moved by something passing through them, and the pale blue blossoms were nodding.

Then almost directly there was a splash, a hideous head appeared on the bank, the wretched hen uttered a cackling shriek and leaped up to the full extent of the tether, a loud snapping noise was heard. They had just a rapid view of a huge scaly, dripping body in the act of turning, a great undulating tail waved in the air—there was a loud splash; and, thrilling with excitement, Ned saw the slack coils of rope running out, and that the bait was gone.

"That's right," whispered Frank excitedly, as a suppressed murmur rose from the Malays; "give him plenty of line. He won't go very far. There's lots of length;" and he stood looking on as, excited as he, Ned dragged at the rope, and passed it rapidly through his hands as it kept on running toward the bank, and into the river more and more and more, till only about ten yards were left before the end was reached—the end tied to a young cocoa-nut tree.

One of the Malays sprang up, whipped out his kris, and was going to cut the rope, for a check might have made the crocodile leave the bait before he had swallowed it, and the intention was to run with the end over to the river's brim, thus giving another fifty feet of line to run; but, just as he raised his kris, the great reptile ceased drawing out the rope, and Frank gave his young companion a congratulatory slap on the shoulder.

"Hurrah!" he cried; "he will not go any farther. He has got a lurking-place down there, under those lilies, and he is busy swallowing it."

He turned and asked one of the men a question, and the answer confirmed his opinion.

"Yes; it's all right," said Frank.

"Shall I strike now?"

"Oh no; give him plenty of time to swallow his chicken curry. I say, wait a bit; won't he find it warm in a few minutes."

"But I must strike soon. Let me do it."

"Oh yes; you shall strike, and then we'll have a lot of the fellows ready to catch hold, for that fellow's seventeen or eighteen feet long. I know, and you don't know, how strong these things are."

Ned made no reply, for he was suffering from a strange feeling of emotion: his heart beat violently, there was a sensation of suffocation in his breast, and the hands which held the rope trembled and twitched.

"Feel frightened, sor?" whispered Tim, smiling in his face.

"No, I don't think I'm frightened, because I wouldn't let go on any account."

"I know. I felt just like that the first time I saw one caught, and the men let me howld the line."

"But it must be time to strike now."

"Why, you talk as if you had a rod in your hand, and a fish had taken your bait," cried Frank.

"Yes; it seems just the same."

"Only it isn't fishing: its reptiling. Give him plenty of time."

"But why?"

"Because perhaps he hasn't swallowed it, and is lying down there chewing it over in his jaws. If you pulled now, you might jerk it out of his mouth."

Ned uttered a sigh, as if he were getting rid of a great amount of pent-up emotion while he stood there grasping the rough rope with both hands, waiting and feeling more impatient than he ever had before.

"You'll see, when we pull him out, how useful the loose strands of rope are. They'll be stuck between his ugly teeth. My word, it will make a mess all about here. It will be wet and beaten down, and made into a regular puddle."

"Will he struggle much?"

"I should think he will. Mind his tail."

"You mean his head."

"No, I don't; I mean his tail. Of course he'll snap and bark, but he tries to sweep people over with his tail, just as if he were mowing you off the ground. Hullo! he's moving now. Ready? Give the rope a jerk, and hold tight."

Ned obeyed his instructions, for the rope was beginning to glide over the bank again, and, as it tightened, Ned gave it a sharp jerk, went down headlong directly, and as he still clung to the rope, began to glide rapidly toward the river.

"Oh murther!" roared Tim.

"Let go!" shouted Frank. But in his excitement Ned held on, and he was dragged within a yard of the river before there was a tremendous check put on the rope by the Malays, who stopped its progress, and enabled Ned to struggle up, Frank joining him, and the fight now began.

At first there was nothing but a steady strain on the line, as if the end were tied to a dead tree at the bottom of the river, and this kept on for some minutes, neither side stirring.

"Oh, he's a beauty!" said Tim, who was hauling hard.

"I told you he was a big one," said Frank; but Ned made no answer. The interest was too deep, and he held on to the rope with all his strength. Then, all at once, a peculiar vibration ran through it, as if the crocodile had rapidly shaken its head, and the next moment there was a tremendous jerk, and right out in the river, a violent movement in the stilly flowing water, as if the monstrous brute had suddenly wallowed and twisted itself round, the water rising in eddies and then becoming discoloured with clouds of mud which flowed slowly by them, the direction the reptile had taken being somewhat up the river.

The plunge was tremendous, and the rope was nearly jerked out of the men's hands, but they held on, threw themselves back, and once more the dull steady strain was there, the reptile lying like a log at the bottom.

"Look at that now!" cried Tim. "I belave he's tired, and gone to slape."

"He's a coward, and won't fight," cried Frank. "Let's have him out at once," he shouted in Malay to the men, but their leader gave a decided negative.

"Says he'll begin to fight directly," continued Frank; and hardly were the words out of his mouth when there was another fierce shaking of the rope, a furious plunge, and the brute began to make the line rush through the water here and there. The lotus-leaves were cut and torn off and floated down the river, till, where the beautiful bed of flowers lay, all was muddy water churned up by the savage efforts of the beast, which tugged and dragged and sometimes drew the Malays a little nearer the brim; but just as Ned was wondering whether they had not better let go, the men recovered their lost ground again, and the water eddied and bubbled as the mud rose to the surface.

"He's trying to burrow down," said Frank; "wait a bit, and he'll show himself. It's precious deep just there."

The fight went on, and Ned was beginning to think that their captive ought now to grow tired, when the strain suddenly ceased, and the whole party went down backward with their heels in the air.

"The hook's broken out. Oh!" cried Ned, struggling to his knees, his voice showing his disappointment. "Ah!" he yelled, "mind! run!" for he suddenly caught sight of a fearful pair of open jaws thrust out of the water not half a dozen yards away, the monster making a savage charge right up to the bank, before its head sank down.

"Look at that now!" shouted Tim.

"Gone!" cried Ned; "and a good job too."

"Not he," said Frank, laughing. "Look!"

For the rope was running out again, showing that the hook was fast; and, as the boys seized the line once more, the men let it go a little, and then gradually tightened it, with the result that the crocodile turned itself over and over, thrusting its loathsome head out, curving over and diving down again, its tail appearing above the surface, waving, and giving the water a tremendous slap, which sent the spray flying right out over the bank.

It charged again right to the bank, but did not attempt to throw itself out; always turning and plunging down again into deep water, the violent efforts testing the strength of the rope and the hold of the hook, but nothing gave way, for the strands were nearly new, and the toughest of the tough.

And so the fight went on, minute after minute, the men perspiring and the boys' hands beginning to grow sore. How long the violent plunging and churning up of the water lasted they never attempted to guess, for the interest in the fight was too engrossing as the monster now made a rush to escape down the river, now up again, and at last made so desperate a rush straight out as if to go across, that the party were taken unawares, and were jerked right forward, losing their footing and falling. Ned and Frank had to let go, to save themselves from being dragged into the river, and as they lay close to the edge, the rope passed over them, and Ned shouted, "Gone!" while Tim threw himself down in despair.

And so it seemed, for half the men had also let go, and the others had so bad a hold that they followed their companions' example, so that all the labour seemed to have been thrown away.

It was all the work of a few moments, and the reptile was now well out, and apparently escaping, when there was again a tightening, and the young cocoa-nut palm shivered and bent as the knots were tested where the end was secured.

The next moment, with a low cry of excitement, the men had seized the line again, and eased the strain on the young tree; then steadily dragging the reptile's head round, and drawing it back toward the bank till half the rope was recovered.

The struggle recommenced, for the monster seemed to be as strong as ever, but it was now allowed to have no rest, and at last it was drawn to within some twenty feet of the bank, and four of the men let go and went back.

"Here, hi! don't run away!" cried Tim.

"What are they going to do?" said Ned, panting with his efforts.

"Gone to get their spears. We're going to have him out now."

"And we're nearest!" cried Ned.

"Yes. Afraid? Shall we go back?"

"Do you want to?"

"No."

"More don't I," said Ned, desperately.

"It's all right," said Frank. "We can run out of his way if he makes a jump at us. You'll easily know if he's going to. You'll see him hump up his back if he's going to rush at us. But what you've got to mind is his tail. He'll try, as I told you, to flip you into the water. He may break your legs. Now then, be ready for a good haul. Here they are with their spears."

The four men came back, two going on each side of the rope toward the bank, and standing ready with their weapons to try to plunge them into the reptile's throat. Then the principal Malay said a few words, uttered a shout, and the strain was increased a little, then a little more, as the creature began to be drawn nearer the bank; then they moved faster and faster, Ned wondering whether the rope and hook would stand; and as he ran on with the men, he looked back and saw the reptile's head with its jaws wide appear above the muddy bank, then its fore-paws were over, and the next moment it was gliding over the grass, striking right and left with head and tail; while, as it was dragged right away from the river, and the men paused, it raised itself up high on its feet, arching up its back like an angry toad of monstrous dimensions, and snapped its jaws.

"Pretty darlin'!" cried Tim. "Oh, how proud his mother must be. Look at his smile."

Frank uttered a triumphant shout, and Ned joined in, but only feebly, for he was too much excited and on the watch for a charge from their captive.

Two or three of these were made as the men attacked it with spears; but the strain of the rope on the reptile's head prevented it from doing any mischief, and though it laid about it, thrashing furiously with its tail, no harm was done, while the men contrived to give it thrust after thrust in the soft under-parts of the neck, weakening it so, that at last they managed to turn it over on its back, and one of the Malays leaped upon it, and with a great knife ripped it up nearly from end to end.

Ned turned away sickened as the men now unfastened the rope from the tree and retied it, so as to give the reptile a very short tether.

"There's no need for that now—is there?" said Ned, as he stood wiping his brow.

"No need to what?"

"Tie it up."

"Only, that if they did not, the brute would crawl back into the river."

"What, wounded like that?"

"Oh yes. They don't seem to mind much. They'll go back into the water even after the Malays have cut them open and taken out their inside. They always do that to see whether they are man-eaters. They're doing it now. Come and look."

"No," said Ned. "I'm satisfied. We've caught him. That's all too horrible."

By this time the report was being spread that the monster had been taken, and footsteps were heard approaching, quite a little crowd hiding the reptile from the boys, and out of which crowd rose directly after a low wailing sound.

"How horrid!" whispered Frank.

"What does it mean? Are they sorry we've killed it?"

"No, they have found something inside the beast which tells them that we have caught the right croc. I daresay it's the one that took the poor girl."

Frank was right, and after a time the lads returned, the crowd—a part of which had gone back in procession toward one of the houses—making way for them.

The men standing about the horrible reptile gave them a quiet but warm greeting, and there was a look of triumph in their eyes as one of them told Frank, what he afterwards interpreted to his companion, that this was undoubtedly the monster that had taken the poor girl; and they showed him too a silver ornament, blackened and strange looking, which must have been in the creature for perhaps months.

Ned turned shuddering away from this recital to examine the hideous mud-coloured brute, Frank eagerly showing him how the loose strands had opened out as the reptile bit at them, its great teeth passing through without damaging the strength of the rope; and it was interesting to see how the hook had taken too fast a hold to be dislodged. Then he examined the great bulky body with its crooked legs and claws, and the formidable tail, everything tending to show that it was a reptile just in the full vigour of its existence.

"They never get bigger than this, do they?" said Ned, after a careful measurement had proved the crocodile to be within an inch or two of eighteen feet, and bulky in proportion.

"Bigger? Yes, half as big again. My father saw one twenty-five feet long, but he says those very large ones are so heavy that they are slow and not so dangerous. It is those fellows from fifteen feet to eighteen that the men are most afraid of. They can quite dart through the water like a fish."

"What will they do with it?"

"They are going to leave it here till our people have seen it, and then throw it in the river again. And I hope," added Ned merrily, "it will be a lesson to all the others, and that they will behave better. Here, come along, and let's get something to eat. I say, what a horrid mess!"

"It's dishgusting, sor," said Tim. "Here, I must light a pipe to take the taste out of my mouth. But it's a puzzle—a reg'lar conundhrum, that's what it is."

"What's a conundrum?"

"Why sor, whatever crocodiles could have been made for. But I say, Masther Frank, he thought it was a chicken. He nivver knew it was a tough ould hin."



CHAPTER TWELVE.

THROUGH THE JUNGLE.

A few days later, in which interval several little boating journeys had been made, the results of which could be seen in Murray's house, which was rapidly beginning to show traces of its being intended for a museum, the morning broke fine and comparatively cool; and just at sunrise Mr Braine came to where Ned and his uncle was seated at their early breakfast, to announce that the preparations settled upon the previous evening had been made.

Murray had finished his meal, but Ned was still engaged in getting ready for a tolerably long fast to mid-day, when a good meal would be prepared.

He was still lingering reluctantly over his breakfast when Frank appeared, and as soon as the two boys were together, Murray drew Mr Braine out into the veranda. "Well," he said; "any fresh news?"

"No," replied Mr Braine; "and in spite of my long experience of the man, I am half-disposed to think that I may be wrong."

"Then you do not think I need stay?"

"Oh no."

"Because I should not like to be out of the way if there was any trouble."

"You need have no fear for to-day. He has been perfectly quiet and interested in some affairs connected with the rajah of the next state. This man has offended him, and I should not feel a bit surprised if war broke out between them."

"I don't care what breaks out so long as you are wrong in your ideas about that affair," said Murray, excitedly. "It worries me so that I hardly like to leave the place to go collecting."

Mr Braine smiled to himself as he saw how genuine Murray's interest was.

"You shall have the earliest information if anything is wrong," he said.

"But why wait for anything to be wrong. Would it not be much better for the ladies to leave this place at once?"

"Much better, of course."

"Then why not make a strong effort, and get them down to Malacca?"

"For the simple reason that no efforts we could make would be half strong enough. The only way would be to try to escape."

"Well, why not try that?"

"Because there is such a thing as failure, my dear fellow, and that would mean placing us all in a ten times worse position than we are in now."

Murray frowned and looked intensely miserable.

"Come," said Mr Braine; "don't let us conjure up what may be imaginary troubles. Call those boys, and be off before the sun gets more power. I tell you that you may go away perfectly contented, for this man moves very slowly, and we shall have ample warning of any danger before it comes."

Murray sighed, and it was in rather a half-hearted manner that he handed his guns and cases to Hamet, who bore them off, and directly after they heard him talking to some one, whose voice told at once, from its peculiar, highly-pitched intonation, that it was Tim Driscol, who the next minute appeared at the door.

"Beg pardon, sor," he said, "but masther says if it's at all convaynient would you—"

"What's the matter?" cried Murray, eagerly, catching the man by the arm.

"Oh, jist nawthing as ye may say, sor. A little out of ordher for want of fresh air, and the masther says if ye wouldn't mind takking me with ye to-day, I might be a bit useful."

Murray turned away with an impatient gesture, and exchanged glances with Mr Braine.

"I'm very sorry, sor," said Tim, quite crest-fallen, for he had been longing intensely to go on the trip. "The masther thought it would do me good, or I wouldn't have asked."

"Oh yes, you can come, my man," said Murray. "Take hold of that bag of cartridges, and go on after Hamet."

"Thank ye, sor," cried the man eagerly; and taking up the bag, and giving the two boys a delighted look, he hurried off.

"Sure, if I stay near him, and he looks at me," said Tim to himself, "he may alter that bit of him that he calls his mind."

As soon as Tim was out of hearing, Murray said excitedly: "There, you will be another man short. I had better give up the expedition."

"Nonsense! go, and I would try and make a discovery of metal if I could, even if it is only tin again. If you could hit upon gold, even if it is only some poor deposit in a stream, it would be worth everything to us now, from making him more friendly to us. Spend a little time over that as well as over the birds."

"Then you would go?"

"Certainly, and at once."

"Ready, boys?" cried Murray, quickly now, for he felt that if he thought much more about the trouble at the doctor's home, he would not be able to go.

"Yes; all ready," cried Frank, presenting himself first. "Let's be off. You are not waiting for us."

"Go on, then. The elephants are standing in front of the rajah's."

The boys needed no second request, but hurried off to find three of the huge, clumsy-looking animals, with their attendants and a party of spearmen, standing bowing their heads and waving their curled-up trunks to and fro. They were fitted with strong basket-work howdahs, and the smallest one was evidently the bearer of the refreshments, its rattan-cane howdah being more roomy and of a rougher make.

The arrangements were soon finished, and Murray mounted into the howdah of the first elephant, followed by Hamet and one of the rajah's men; the second elephant was devoted to the two boys and Tim, who took his place in the most solemn manner.

"Be on your guard for the branches," said Mr Braine. "They stretch so across the way, that on a tall elephant you have to mind, or you may be swept off."

With these parting words of warning, he gave the word, the mahouts touched their mounts' heads with an iron crook, and the party moved off, passing with its rather large guard of spearmen right by the doctor's and the merchant's houses, where the ladies stood in the verandas, and waved them a farewell.

"Want the tiger's skin?" shouted Frank to Amy. "You shall have it, if we get one."

She nodded laughingly, and said something; but they were too distant to hear the words, and directly after, the long regular shuffling gait of the elephants had taken them out of sight.

"We are not going near tigers, are we?" said Ned, rather excitedly.

"Of course we are. You can't go anywhere here without going near tigers, and if you don't go near them, they come near you. Wait a few minutes till we are well out of the village, and then you'll see the sort of place our road is.—Won't he, Tim?"

"Indade he will, sor. It's a beautiful road, with a wall on each side, or a hedge, if you like to call it so, as fresh and green as a country one, only a dale more scratchy."

Their way took them past the clump of trees in which the rajah's house was hidden, and the boys looked eagerly between the trunks, but the growth was too dense for them to see anything, even from their elevated perch, as the elephants went swinging by with the spearmen, some now in front and some behind.

"Like it?" cried Frank.

"Yes, I think so," replied Ned.

"Don't feel sea-sick, do you?"

"How can one feel sea-sick, when there is no sea—no boat."

"But you do feel a little giddy with the motion; don't you?"

"I did," replied Ned; "but it is going off fast, and I am beginning to like it."

"Yes, it's all right as long as the forest isn't too dense, and the elephant holes too deep."

"What are elephant holes?"

"Oh, wait a few minutes and you'll soon see that.—Won't he, Tim?"

"That he will, sor, and here we are."

For they had left the village behind, crossed the rice and fruit grounds, and there, all at once, without any preparation in the way of bushes or outstanding trees, was the jungle, with its huge growth rising up like a green wall shutting in some strange territory. It was even more formidable looking than the walls that shut in the river, and as Ned looked to right and left in search of the entrance to the way they were to take, he quite realised how dangerous it was for the poor folk who worked in their rice-fields close up to the black jungle and its lurking creatures.

"There you are," said Frank. "Now then, you must keep your eyes open for snakes and your ears for tigers. Your uncle will shoot if he gets a chance; won't he?"

"I don't know," replied Ned. "I don't think he is well, he has been so quiet lately; but I should hardly believe he would let anything go by."

"Nor I. He's such a shot," said Frank. "My father is pretty good, but Mr Murray is twice as sure. But we shall see no tigers going through a wood like this. The worst of it is, they can see you."

For as he was speaking, the first elephant had gone, as it were, straight into the solid green wall of verdure, and disappeared.

"Now then, Trousers," cried Frank.

"What do you call the mahout Trousers for?" asked Ned.

"I didn't. I was speaking to old India-rubber here."

"Well, why do you call him Trousers?"

"Because elephants always look to me like a big body and two pairs of trousers. Now then, look out for canes and scratches."

For the elephant they were on shuffled into the narrow track, whose sides and roof brushed the great cane howdah, and in a few moments they had passed from the glaring sunshine into the hot dank gloom of the forest, where the swishing noise of the abundant growth, forced aside and trampled down by the huge animals, was for a time the only sound.

"I say, he on the look-out, or out you'll go. We're getting into the wet now."

Frank's words were uttered just in time to make Ned seize hold of the side of the howdah, for the elephant they were on began to lurch and roll, as its legs sank deep in the soft mud and water which filled a series of holes in the track, and the driver turned round to them and smiled.

"Tell him to guide the elephant better," said Ned, as this rocking motion went on. "He is letting it put its feet in all these holes."

Frank laughed.

"It's all right," he said; "they always do that. The holes are the old footprints of other elephants, or their own, when they came along here before, and they get deeper and deeper, and full of mud and water. Elephants always keep to the old footprints, because they believe they are safe."

"But he could make them go on the hard ground."

Frank said something to the driver, who smiled as he replied.

"I told him what you said, and he says nobody could make an elephant step out of them. Look back; the other one is doing just the same."

That was plain enough, and Ned now turned his eyes on Tim, who was seated cross-legged in the hind corner of the howdah, with his arms resting on the edge.

"Ye'll soon get used to it, sor," he said, smiling. "Shakes ye up wondherful though at first. They're great onaisy pigs to ride. Would either of you gentlemen object to my shmoking my pipe?"

"Oh no, smoke away, Tim, but don't make a noise with the match."

"Nivver fear," was the reply; and the man began to prepare his bamboo-pipe, while Ned gazed wonderingly at the narrow view of the dense growth on either side, and the way in which the trees were laced together over their heads by rattan-canes and other creepers, whose leafage helped the spreading boughs far overhead to shut out the faintest ray of sunshine. In front, the way was blocked by the hind-quarters of the elephant Murray was on; behind, the smaller elephant with the provisions shut in the track, so that the spearmen who followed could only at intervals be seen, and the gloom grew deeper as suck, suck, the elephants drew their great limbs from the track holes, or plunged them in, sending a gush of mud and water flying out on either side.

"Is the forest all like this?" said Ned at last.

"The jungle is."

"But are there no other paths?"

"Not that I know of."

"Then how do the animals get about?"

"Oh, some use these tracks, but the tigers and bears creep along under and through the trees and bushes. They can go anywhere. We couldn't, without the men cut a way for us."

Skrit, skrat, skrat! went Tim's match loudly, and the elephant uttered a tremendous squeal, plunged forward, and ran its head against the hind-quarters of the one in front, which trumpeted shrilly, and catching the panic rushed on; the store elephant following, in spite of the mahouts, who strove hard to check them in their headlong course, but in vain.

"Down, down!" shouted Frank. "Hold tight."

His advice was needed, for the plunging and rolling of the great frightened animals was terrible, and for a while they tore on along the narrow track with the mud and water flying, and the growth from the sides and roof threatening to drag the occupants of the howdahs from their seats.

At the end of about a mile, the first elephant was checked, and of necessity the second and third had to stand, which they did with their heads pressed against the other's tail.

"Any one hurt?" cried Murray, looking back.

"No, all right—all right," cried the boys.

"What was it scared your elephant?"

"Oh murther, don't tell him, Masther Frank," whispered Tim, who then desperately told the truth.

"It's all right, sor. I sthruck a match to light me pipe. That's all."

"Well then, don't do it again."

"No, sor."

"Go on slowly now," cried Murray, and progress was again made.

"An' I should think we would go slowly," muttered Tim. "I belave I haven't a whole bone left, and what's more, I didn't light me pipe."

"And you must not now," cried Frank, laughing. "Oh, I did get such a switch from one of those canes.—How did you get on?"

"Something nearly pulled me out of the howdah," replied Ned, "and I'm a bit scratched."

"Bit scratched, sor? Look at me," cried Tim, showing his bleeding hands. "These baskets, if ye are to have a ride in 'em, ought to have a lid to shut down."

The elephants uttered a low sigh now and then, as they shuffled and splashed along the muddy track, whose gloomy monotony was so wearisome that Ned turned at last to his companion.

"I say," he cried, "is it all going to be like this?"

Frank laughed.

"Oh no; only for a few miles. Then we shall get to some open ground."

"You've been along here before, then?"

"Oh yes, twice; but till you get through the jungle it is very dreary."

Ned sat swaying and giving with the movements of the elephant, thinking what a terrible journey it would be for any one who had to walk, and looking back from time to time at the spearmen behind, who seemed to get along lightly enough, when he caught sight of one. Several, however, had climbed on to the rear elephant, while two had hold of the ropes of the one he rode.

All at once, just as if seen through a tunnel, there was a patch of light, and soon after the party emerged into an opening of a few acres in extent, where the sun had full power, and the growth of orchid and flowering tree lit up the scene with glowing colour. Here they heard the cries of birds, and were just in time to catch sight of the metallic green, gold, and purple of half a dozen peacocks before they hurried out of sight among the trees.

Murray obtained a few specimens of parrot and sunbird here, though, in their half-hour's halt before the leading elephant was started, and once more plunged into the continuation of the green leafy tunnel, which by contrast seemed darker than the first part.

By degrees the way of progression grew so wearisome that Ned turned to his companions to find both fast asleep, and he turned again to gaze before him at the hind-quarters of his uncle's elephant, feeling sour and ill-used and heartily sick of the tedious ride.

But all his ill-humour faded away an hour later when the elephants passed out of the tunnel once more into an undulating paradise of tree and flower, rising gradually higher and higher to hills that appeared to be of a lovely blue; and as if roused by the glow of the sun, both Frank and Tim started up.

"Oh, here we are, then, at last," cried the latter. "Then, I suppose, the first thing is something to eat."

He was quite right, for about a mile farther on toward the hills, the elephants were halted close to a stream, over whose glancing water a huge tree of the fig tribe spread its gigantic branches, and offered a most tempting refuge from the sun.

The elephants were tethered, and the rajah's men rapidly unloaded the pannier they had brought, to spread a tempting meal beneath the tree; and this being ended, the first elephant was again brought into use to bear Murray, the two boys, and Tim, on toward the hills shooting and exploring.

This part of the expedition was so beautiful, and the specimens shot so satisfactory, that the wearisome nature of the journey out was forgotten, and that back, which had hung before Ned like a cloud, was no longer thought of.

He said something in respect to it as they walked on beside the elephant, carrying a spare gun and ammunition, and Frank laughed:

"It was tiring, but we had not had any dinner then, and that makes all the difference. I say, Mr Murray, suppose a tiger came now, what should you do?"

"Fire at it, of course."

"With small shot? Oh! I say, hadn't you better load your rifle? I'll carry it."

"Yes; it would be wise," replied Murray. "You'll promise to give it me if there is a chance."

"Of course." And the rifle was handed out of the howdah by Tim, loaded, and shouldered by Frank as they once more went on, getting now on to higher ground, where the rugged incline of the gully down which the stream whose course they followed ran, induced Murray to begin examining the stones that lay loose on one side of the little river's rocky bed.

Then there was another tramp onward, and a couple more specimens fell to the naturalist's gun.

"That's as many as we shall care to skin to-night, Ned," he said. "Let's see now if we can't discover some metal."

"Whoo-hoo!" shouted Tim, from up in the howdah. "Look sor, look! shoot! There he is!"

They followed Tim's pointing hand, to see, about a couple of hundred yards away, in an open spot where a gully ran up into a patch of forest, a full-grown tiger, whose stripes showed out clearly in the sunshine, as, with head erect and tail lashing his sides, he watched the approaching party; but before Murray could seize the rifle, the lithe animal gave a couple of leaps and had disappeared.

"Gone!" ejaculated Murray. "It would be no use to try to hunt him up, without beaters."

So the search for minerals was commenced again, with no further result than the discovery of a little tin, specimens of which were thrown up to Tim, and another halt was made.

By this time the sun was beginning to descend, and after a little hesitation, for the place was full of attractions, Murray said unwillingly, "I suppose we must go back now."

"Too soon yet, uncle," said Ned. "I should like to have a shot at something."

"Another time, my lad," said Murray. "We have been longer than I thought, and we have all that dreary ride back through the jungle. It will be dark before we get back. Yes; let's turn now at once," he continued, displaying a little anxiety as he thought of his conversation with Mr Braine that morning, and wondered that he could have so forgotten himself in his favourite pursuit as to have ignored the position of those at the village.

The lads acquiesced at once, and they mounted the elephant to look wonderingly from one to the other now, as they noted how anxious Murray had become, and impatient in his orders to Hamet to tell the driver to hurry the elephant along.

"What's the matter with your uncle?" whispered Frank at last. "Does he want something to eat?"

"I don't know," replied Ned. "I can't quite make him out. He was all right coming, and thought of nothing but the shooting; now he's all in a fidget. There!"

This was in consequence of Hamet reporting that the driver said he could get the elephant along no faster, as the road was so bad and stony.

Murray threw himself back impatiently, and sat gazing straight before them, while the elephant nodded and shuffled slowly along.

"For suppose," thought Murray, "anything should happen while I am away, I should never forgive myself. I wish now I had not come."



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

TWO HOURS LATE.

"It is only fancy," said Murray to himself, as, after what seemed to be an interminable length of time, they came in sight of the big tree where the other two elephants stood swinging their trunks, and the rest of the party were standing about watching for their return. There was no time lost now, for the day was getting well on, and the Malays showed plenty of eagerness to be once more well on their road, so as to be through the jungle before dark.

"I'm afraid we have rather overdone it, boys," said Murray, after a long silence, during which the elephants plodded patiently on, and their guard kept up a low muttered conversation to themselves.

"It would have been better if we had started half an hour sooner," said Frank, coolly; "but it don't matter, that I see. Once we get into the jungle track the elephants will go through it back to their quarters, and we can lie down and get a nap if we like."

All this was shouted from one elephant to the other, for the same order had been maintained as in coming. "No danger, is there?" said Ned. "Danger? Well, perhaps a little. Tiger might catch one of the men, as a cat does a mouse. You see how close they'll all keep to the elephants as soon as we enter the jungle."

"Oh, nonsense! No tiger would attack a party like this."

"Wouldn't he! You'll see."

"What?"

"Well no, I don't mean that; only that if a tiger is hungry he'd attack anything."

It seemed to be a long journey to the jungle track, and evening was growing very near, as once more the elephants plunged into the narrow dark tunnel, where the mud rarely grew dry in the huge footprints worn by the heavy animals into deep pits, each of which seemed like a trap, out of which the labouring beast had to drag its leg.

The change from the golden glow of the late afternoon to the gloom of the jungle path was again sudden, and it evoked the remark from Ned: "If it is like this now, what will it be when it's dark?"

"Why dark?" cried Frank, laughing. "Oh, you needn't mind. There's no fear of the elephants taking the wrong turning, because there isn't one. If the drivers keep them going, we shall be sure to get back home."

Then the monotonous slush slush of the elephant's tread began, mingled with the squeaking of the strong basket-work howdah, and an occasional snort from one of the great animals, as it found the task of extricating its legs harder than usual. For a time the Malays had kept up their low murmuring conversation, but this soon dropped off as the darkness increased, and they crept up close, as Frank had suggested, to the heads of the elephants, contriving so that one of the animals should form the rear-guard, and thus protect them from attack.

It was not long before the conversation between those on the two leading elephants dropped off, so that by the time it was quite dark the journey was being continued in almost absolute silence, as far as talking was concerned.

And it was dark: so black that the occupants of the howdahs could not see each other when close together, and the only way to avoid the boughs which brushed against them constantly was to crouch as low down as was possible.

Ned had been sitting silently for some time thinking all kinds of horrors, and of how huge serpents might be hanging from the boughs, or tigers watching them in the darkness, ready to spring in among them, when suddenly he started, for there was a low guttural sound like a suppressed roar close at hand, and directly after, a cold chill ran through him, for as the elephant went on with its slow swaying motion, something which seemed to be long and round glided past his face, passed over his shoulder, and then swept about his neck.

The scene up the river came back instantaneously, and in those moments Ned mentally saw a creature like that at which his uncle had shot, hanging from somewhere above, and seeking to coil round his body to crush him in its folds.

It was all momentary, but in that brief space of time Ned sat motionless, and then his breath escaped with a low hiss, as he felt that it was Frank's arm feeling for him, and directly after the boy's lips touched his ear.

"Ned," he whispered, "here's a game. Oh Tim's asleep and snoring."

"Well, I don't see any game in that. I wish I was."

"Don't be snaggy. I mean to have a bit of fun with him."

"What could you do?"

"You know how he has been fidgeting about the tigers."

"Yes."

"Look here, then: you sit fast, and I'll just feel how he lies, and then get out of this jolly old basket, hold on to the side, and then jump in on him, take him by the neck, and give a good loud snarl. I can imitate the tigers exactly."

"And suppose he hits you with all his might?"

"I shouldn't give him time. I should roll off directly. He'd declare a tiger had jumped into the howdah, and brag about how he had escaped."

Ned was silent.

"Well, wouldn't it be a game? Why don't you answer? What are you thinking about?"

"Tim scratching a match, and frightening the elephant," said Ned quietly.

"What? this morning?"

"Yes; and of how it rushed off."

"Ah! I never thought of that," said Frank. "Perhaps it would scare it, and that would be awkward in the dark."

"Let me get down and walk before you begin," continued Ned.

"Oh, bother! I shan't do it now. I say, I don't know where we should all be if he started now."

"I don't know where we are without his starting," replied Ned. "It seems to me as if the thing's going right through the blackest part of the forest as it is."

"Nonsense! And look: it isn't so dark now. We're out in that part where we rested this morning."

That was plain enough, for a load seemed to have been suddenly lifted from their spirits. The air felt warm and fresh. The peculiar dank odour of the trampled leaves and mud was wanting, and right above them were the purple heavens ablaze with glorious stars, looking brighter and larger than they had ever seemed before.

"Hah!" ejaculated Ned, taking a long breath; "that's better."

But the pleasurable feeling soon passed away, for at the end of five minutes, the jungle track was entered upon again, and plash, plash, plash, plash, on they went, with the howdah creaking to the elephant's swing, and the boughs now dripping with moisture brushing against them as the elephants plunged on.

"Why, we shall be hours yet," said Ned. "Oh, I am getting so sick of this. It was bad enough this morning when it was daylight. Hark! What's that?"

"Tiger," said Frank, in a subdued voice, "on the prowl. But I don't suppose he'll come near us."

Frank's words did not inspire confidence. On the contrary, they made Ned feel very nervous, and begin to envy Tim's ability to sleep all through the perilous jaunt. For dangerous it was, since, setting aside the risk of an attack by some hungry tiger, there was always the possibility of one of the elephants coming down when floundering through the mud.

On still, with the motion at last growing so wearisome that the dangers were forgotten, and both of the boys began to nod, but roused up again as a hail came from the foremost elephant.

"Getting tired of it?"

"Horribly!" they shouted back; "and it's a long way yet."

Then the nodding began again, their crouching attitude fostering it, and the darkness was lit up by the dreams which came with their sound sleep, out of which they both started together; the change in the elephant's movement, from a rolling, plunging progress, something akin to that of a boat at sea without its smoothness, to a regular steady walk, waking the boys at once.

"Hurrah!" cried Frank. "Out of the jungle. Not far to go now."

As he spoke, they could see lights, and the elephants stepped out freely, bringing them in a very short time to the front of the rajah's grounds, where a group of men were standing, and among them Mr Braine, Mr Greig, and the Tumongong, who all advanced.

"You are late," cried the former. "Make haste and get down here; we have been waiting these two hours."

"Sorry to have kept you," cried Murray, as the elephants went down on their knees.

"Never mind, we'll talk later on. The rajah desires that you all come and have your evening meal with him, and tell him what you have done."

"Impossible to-night. We are not fit."

"Never mind that," said Mr Braine, rather hurriedly; "he expressed a wish for you to come, and come you must. He has been waiting two hours. The ladies are all there, and the doctor too. A dinner has been prepared for us in a room to ourselves. You will have an audience with the rajah afterwards."

The mention of the ladies being there swept away all Murray's objections, and he descended, while Frank said aloud:

"Then I shall take Ned on home to have something with me."

"No, no," cried Murray, hastily; "he must see to the specimens and guns being safely housed."

"Impossible!" cried Mr Braine, "and we are wasting time. The rajah said all, and he will be impatient. Your man Hamet must see to everything. Come along."



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

THE RAJAH'S RING.

Murray was anxious, unwilling, and willing altogether, as he followed the Tumongong and a guard of the rajah's men into the lantern-lit clearing before the house; and from thence they were ushered into a room hung with mats, where water was brought in brass basins for their ablutions, before they were shown into a long dimly-lit room, where a meal was spread on mats upon the floor, while upon cushions at one end the rajah himself was seated conversing with the doctor and the ladies.

He rose and received the rest of his guests with dignity, pointing out to them the places he wished them to occupy, and then, to the surprise of all, he took the head of the board himself; a compliment which the Englishmen looked upon with suspicion, as possibly meaning something, opposed as it was to his ordinary customs.

To the boys it was delightful, for everything in the dimly-lit room was attractive: the group of guards and officials who stood behind and about the rajah in their showiest silks; the chief in his native costume now, in which bright-yellow silk predominated; and as Ned gazed at him, he could not help thinking how much better he looked in a dress which became him, for he looked now like an eastern prince, and the boy whispered so to his companion.

"Yes; he don't look such an old guy now," said Frank, in the same tone. "We English people can wear our clothes without looking foolish," he said, complacently. "They can't wear English things without being scarecrows."

"But, I say, where are his wives? There are no ladies here," whispered Ned again.

"Locked up, put away in the cupboard. Heads chopped off, perhaps," whispered Frank. "You didn't suppose they would be here to sit down and eat with such infidels as we are!"

"Oh, I didn't know."

"Well, I did. It's a wonder to see the old chap here. He's got some scheme in his head, or he wouldn't be so civil. I wonder what it is. You see they're all obliged to come if he gives orders. But be quiet: don't talk and ask questions. I'm hungry, and the things he gives you to eat are precious good, though often enough you don't know what they are."

"But, I say, tell me this," whispered Ned; "and I won't ask you any more questions. There will not be anything one don't like to eat, will there? I mean anything queer."

"What, young crocodile fatted with niggers, pickled boa constrictor, or curried baby?"

"Don't chaff. Tell me."

"Look here: do you want to know what to do?"

"Of course."

"Then you eat just the same as I do, and you can't be wrong."

Ned took the advice, and, like his companion, he was very soon enjoying himself thoroughly; too busy, in fact, to take much notice of the others, till Frank began to make remarks.

"I say, how nice Amy Barnes looks, doesn't she! Got quite a colour."

Ned glanced at her, and saw that she was flushed and looked excited, but was evidently doing her best to be at ease, talking readily enough with the Resident, and letting him translate in answer to some remark made in a grave and stately way by the rajah, who scarcely ate anything, but kept on giving instructions to his attendants to take this dish or that wine to his guests.

"What's the matter with your uncle?" said Frank, suddenly; "not poorly, is he?"

"Matter?" said Ned, looking across to where Murray was seated. "Nothing; he only looks cross."

"But he is hardly eating anything. Overdid it to-day in our walk, or else riding the elephants has made him queer. It makes some people ill, like going to sea for the first time."

Just then the rajah spoke to one of the attendants, who directly after went and filled Murray's cup with some kind of palm wine, and then the Resident's, and the doctor's.

"The rajah will take wine with us, Murray, in the English fashion," said Mr Braine; and though Murray felt as if he would like to refuse, he told himself that so far he had no real cause, and that such an act on his part might mean peril to all present. So in a very distant quiet way he took wine, the rajah merely putting his cup to his lips, while as Murray drank he could not help thinking how easily such a man might get rid of any one he disliked, and how little likelihood there was of his being ever called to account for the murder.

These thoughts gave a bitter flavour to the by no means unpalatable draught.

He had no time to dwell further on the thoughts which had been troubling him ever since he had entered the place, for the rajah spoke to Mr Braine, who bowed and turned to the naturalist:

"Our host is eager to know whether you have made any fresh discoveries."

Murray replied that he had only found more tin, and this was interpreted to the rajah, who scowled a little, and then spoke rather sharply to Mr Braine, who again interpreted.

"His highness is disappointed," he said, "for he is sure that there is an abundance of gold, and that there are precious stones in the hills. He wishes you to go again."

"Orders me to go again, you mean," said Murray, warmly.

"For Heaven's sake, man, be careful," whispered Mr Braine; but with a smile upon his face the while. "You do not know. Our lives may be at stake. Help me, pray. The ladies. Have you a specimen of anything you found?"

Murray glanced at Amy, who gave him an imploring look, and, drawing a deep breath, he felt ready to diplomatise, give up self, and smother his indignation for the sake of those before him.

The rajah's eyes were fixed upon him keenly, and he met them without flinching, but he mastered the anger at his heart, and thrusting his hand into his jacket pocket, drew out a couple of fragments of quartz. These he passed over to Mr Braine.

"The best I could do," he said. "I searched well, but this is the only metal I could find."

Mr Braine took them to the rajah, whose eyes glittered with cupidity as he saw the specimens; but as soon as he took them in his hands he returned them with a gesture of impatience, saying something quickly to Mr Braine, who bowed, looked troubled, but smiled directly, and said aloud:

"The rajah bids me say that your last discovery of tin was ample, Mr Murray, and he begs that you will start again to-morrow, making arrangements to be away three or four days, so that you may have time to penetrate right into the hills."

"But hang it all!" began Murray; and then he stopped, for he saw a frightened look in the faces of the ladies, and he altered his tone.

"I'll see to-morrow morning," he said.

"That will not do," said Mr Braine, quickly; and Murray was conscious that the Tumongong's eyes were fixed upon them, and that he was evidently comprehending every word they said. "My dear fellow, I must ask you to give way, or at all events seem to give way. Pray, be careful. That chief understands what we say, and I cannot be sure whether he is an enemy or friend."

This last was in a whisper.

"But really, Mr Braine, this is getting beyond bearing."

"No. Try to bear it for all our sakes—at all events now, and we'll talk it over later on. May I answer that you will go?"

"Yes," said Murray, bowing his head, as he uttered the monosyllable unwillingly.

Mr Braine turned to the rajah and spoke to him, his words evidently calming the great man's wrath, for he nodded and turned smilingly to address a few words to Mrs Barnes, and then to Mrs Braine, to which, with a little hesitation, they replied in the Malay tongue.

After that he turned smilingly to Amy, and evidently paid her some compliment, for she started a little and coloured, her eyes being directed the next moment at Murray, as if to apologise for having listened to the prince's words, while the Englishman bit his lip till it bled.

Meanwhile the attendants glided about silently, plying each of the guests with wine, fruits, and sweets, to all of which Frank helped himself liberally; and the guards and attendants, dimly-seen in the feebly-lit place, looked like so many statues cast in bronze.

"I say," whispered Frank, as he cut open a mangosteen, "do you notice anything?"

"Yes. Uncle looks horribly cross. He can't bear to be ordered about."

"S'pose not. No man does. But I say, don't you notice anything else?"

"No."

"Well, I do. Strikes me we are going to have a storm."

"Are we? Well, I want to look at the lightning."

"Nonsense! I mean a row. My father looks as if he had been getting into trouble with the rajah, and the ladies are all on the fidget. So's the doctor. I can't make it out."

"I fancied they looked as if they were not enjoying themselves."

"So did I, but then I wasn't sure, and it was such a beautiful supper, and I did enjoy it so. You did pretty well."

"Yes," said Ned, "I liked it."

"I know," whispered Frank; "they think it's time to get up and go to the drawing-room, and leave us gentlemen to our coffee and cigars, and there is no drawing-room that they can go to, and they daren't get up for fear of offending the grand panjandrum."

Just then the rajah, clapped his hands, and coffee was brought in, another attendant bearing a tray with some clumsy-looking cigarettes, and others bringing great pipes with water receptacles, and charcoal pans to supply lights.

The men bore pipes to the doctor and Mr Braine, and then to Murray, who took one of the clumsy-looking cigarettes, formed by so much tobacco crammed into the dry sheaths of a peculiar palm. Then the attendant came on to where the two lads were seated together, and offered them pipes.

"Go on, you ugly brown-nosed animal," said Frank; "what would they say if I tried to smoke?" Then, uttering a negative in the man's tongue, he let him pass on.

"Wasn't it tempting, Ned?" whispered the boy. "Offering a pipe to us like that. I don't see why we should not have a try. Pass those sweets, and let's have some more of that lemonady stuff. I want a durian, too, and I don't see any. Wonder whether old Pan would mind if I asked for one."

Just then the Tumongong came to where they were seated, and with a grave smile said a few words to Frank, who turned to his companion.

"The rajah says you are to come and see him to-morrow. He will send for you to look at all his curiosities."

"But how can I come if I go with my uncle?" replied Ned.

"Says how can he come if he goes shooting and gold-hunting with his uncle?" said Frank, in English.

The Tumongong smiled sadly, and replied in Malay.

"Tells me you're not to go with your uncle to-morrow, but to come here," said Frank, interpreting. "Never mind; I'll go with him."

The Tumongong said a few words.

"Oh, I'm to stop too. Very well. I don't mind. I'll stay, and we'll make the old boy give us plenty of fruit and sweets. He will, I know. Go and tell him," he continued, "that we kiss his feet."

The Tumongong smiled, patted Frank on the arm, as if he were a favourite, and returned to stand behind where his master was seated, smoking, and gazing amiably from one to the other, favouring Murray several times, and each time their eyes met, the rajah raised his golden cup to his lips, and sipped a little coffee.

At last, when the patience of every one of the English party was thoroughly exhausted, the rajah rose, which was taken as a signal for their dismissal; but the potentate reversed the etiquette of an English parting by shaking hands with the gentlemen first, and smiling almost affectionately upon Murray, whose hand he grasped warmly, while the Englishman's grip was cold and limp. Then turning to the ladies, he bade Mrs Braine, Mrs Greig, and Mrs Barnes good-night, after the custom of his country, and lastly, held out his hand to Amy, who could hardly master herself sufficiently to place hers within it.

As he grasped it firmly, he bent down and said a few words in a low tone, which made the girl shrink away with a horrified look, while Murray would have started forward, but for Mr Braine's restraining hand.

But the rajah retained the hand he held, and slipping a ring from his little finger, he placed it on one of Amy's, accompanying it with a meaning look, and then drawing back to march slowly toward the hanging mats which, divided the room from the next, and passing through followed by the chiefs and attendants; while the visitors lost no time in making for the veranda, below which an armed guard bearing lanterns was waiting, ready to escort them as far as the doctor's house, and here they salaamed and retired.

"Come in, Braine—come in, Mr Murray," said the doctor, excitedly. "I should like a few words with you both. Go in, my dears. Mrs Braine, please, don't leave them yet."

The ladies went hurriedly up the steps into the open veranda, and Mr Braine turned to his son.

"Walk home with Ned," he said quickly. "You can stay with him till I come with Mr Murray."

"Yes, father," replied the boy, and the two lads went off together toward Murray's house.

"They're going to have a confab," said Frank, "that they don't want us to hear. I was right; there's going to be a storm."

"But isn't it very strange?" said Ned, eagerly. "What does it all mean?"

"I'm regularly puzzled," cried frank. "It's impossible, of course, but it looks so like it, that I can't help thinking so."

"What do you mean?"

"That I hope I'm wrong, but it looks as if the old boy has taken a fancy to Amy."

"What—an English lady! Impossible!" cried Ned, indignantly.

"'Taint impossible here; if the rajah says he will; but if it isn't so, why did he give Amy Barnes that ring?"

"I don't know. Why did he give you that kris?"

"Oh, that was for a present. I don't understand such things, but I believe when a gentleman gives a lady a ring, it's because he means to marry her."

"But he can't; he has a wife."

"A wife!" cried Frank. "Lots. But that doesn't matter out here."



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

A TROUBLED NIGHT.

As soon as Amy entered her home, she let the pent-up agony and fear which she had hidden for hours have vent in a burst of passionate weeping, and hurried away to her own room, closely followed by her mother and Mrs Braine, leaving the gentlemen standing in the half-darkened room, silent, agitated, and each waiting for the other to speak. But for some minutes no word was spoken, and the silence was only broken by the creaking sound of the bamboo flooring, as in a violent state of agitation, Murray walked the room from end to end. Just then a low cat-like cry came from the jungle, repeated and answered from different directions, and influencing Murray, so that he went and stood at the opening, gazing across the veranda at the fireflies gliding here and there like tiny wandering stars, and listening to the cries which told him that on the jungle side they were surrounded by enemies.

As he stood there motionless, strange hoarse barking sounds came from the river, with an occasional faint splash, and then a loud beating noise, as if some monster were thrashing the surface of the river with its tail. Then, again, from the forest arose other strange cries, croakings, whinings, and sounds to which it would have been hard to give a name, but all suggestive of the black darkness around being full of danger, and after his experience that day of the forest track, he found himself thinking of how impossible it would be for any one seeking to leave the village to escape in that direction.

Then there was the river.

"Yes," he thought; "that would be easier, for it was a broad highway, swiftly flowing down toward civilisation and safety."

Murray felt a bitter twinge of annoyance at that moment, as he thought of how he had sacrificed everything to his love for science, and as soon as he had found it necessary to accept his position, hardly troubled himself to think of the whereabouts of the boat in which he had arrived, and of where the men who formed her crew had been placed.

"Hamet will know," he thought as, in a vague way, he began to make plans, when he was interrupted by Mr Braine's voice uttering the one word, "Well?"

Murray turned at once and stood close to the other occupants of the room, drawing his breath hard, and longing to plunge at once into the conversation, but shrinking from the emotion by which he was half suffocated.

A silence of some moments succeeded Mr Braine's questioning word, and the faint murmur of women's voices could be heard from the inner rooms.

"Yes; there is no doubt about it now," said the doctor. "I have always dreaded this, but lived on in hope."

"And I," said Mr Braine, sadly.

"The base, treacherous—"

"Hush!"

Mr Braine laid his hand upon his old friend's arm, and pointed downwards to the floor, beneath which lay the open space formed by the house being raised on posts, while the flooring was so slight that anything spoken in the room could easily be heard by a listener below.

"There is not likely to be any one there who could understand us," said the doctor, impatiently. "Man, man, what is to be done?"

There was a few moments' silence, and then Mr Braine said despondently:

"I am at my wits' end. I never felt our helplessness so thoroughly as at the present moment."

Murray drew a long deep breath, and the veins in his temples seemed to throb as he stood listening to his companions' words, and waiting to hear what they intended to do next.

At last he could contain himself no longer.

"We are wasting time, gentlemen," he said. "I have not heard you say a word that promises to help us out of our difficulty."

"Ah, Mr Murray!" said the doctor, "I had almost forgotten you. Yes, it is us indeed. Well, sir, you see now our position; what can we say or do?"

"Surely you are not going to stand still, and see that insolent savage force his attentions upon your daughter."

"Sir, I would sooner see her dead than hurried into such a degrading position, but you know how we are situated, and our utter helplessness."

"But you will send for help. Mr Wilson at his station—Dindong— assured me that in a case of necessity he would see that we were protected."

"How would you send the message, sir?"

"By some Malay. He must be bribed heavily. Plenty would be glad to make the venture."

"Where will you find them, sir? Do you know that you would be sending the man to certain death?"

"Surely not."

"The river is closely watched night and day. No boat could pass down unseen."

"But a man might swim say a few hundred yards," cried Murray. "I would go myself."

"And if you escaped the crocodiles, which is not likely, what would you do then?"

"Land, and follow the stream by the bank."

The doctor uttered a low laugh.

"My dear sir, you do not know what you are saying; the bank for miles inland is utterly impassable."

"Then the other way by that elephant track."

"Farther into the enemy's country. No, sir; there is only one route— the river; and so far, I can only see violence as the way, and we are too weak to attempt that—too weak, or the rajah is too strong."

"Then do I understand you to mean that you are going to remain prostrate, and bow down your necks for this man to trample upon you?"

"Mr Murray," interposed Mr Braine, "you are too hard. You are losing your temper. Recollect, sir, that we are placed in a position whose difficulties you even now hardly realise."

"Indeed you are wrong, Mr Braine!" cried Murray, hotly.

"Then remember, sir, you are speaking to a gentleman—a father, whose heart is wrung by the position in which he is placed."

"Yes, I am wrong," said Murray, warmly; "but have some pity for me too. Doctor Barnes, you cannot be blind to what I think and feel. All this is agonising to me. Look here, sir; do you think I have not brains enough to see that this man reads me and my sentiments toward your daughter. The scoundrel—the insolent barbarian! he is actually jealous, and under his smiling civility, he is trying to crush me down or to sweep me out of his path. Do you not see what this expedition to-morrow means."

"Ah, I did not think of that!" cried Greig, excitedly.

"But I did," said Murray. "I will not go so far as to say that the wretch means to have me killed, but I do say that as my presence here might interfere with his plans, I am to be either put out of the way, or kept up the country a prisoner, doing his work until such time as he considers it safe for me to return."

"Murray is right," said Mr Braine; "too right, I fear. You must not, you shall not risk the journey to-morrow alone. I must speak plainly now. I would not answer for your life."

"I will not go," said Murray, firmly. "I am a quiet enthusiast, but there is some old Scottish blood in my veins, gentlemen, that can be roused, and I'll fight to the death before I will see this wrong done."

"As we all would," said Mr Braine, warmly. "God bless you, Murray! You will be a tower of strength to us; but this is not a time for fighting. We are weak—the rajah is strong. He is cunning, too, with all the smiling deceit of these people, who throw you off your guard so as to get a better opportunity for striking."

"But we must act and at once, Braine."

"Yes, but it must be with quiet and dissimulation; cunning for cunning. Violence is useless."

"I don't know," said Murray, fiercely. "The future of a lady whom I boldly tell her father I love and reverence so dearly that, though my suit may be hopeless, though she may never look upon me as aught but a friend, I will die in her service to save her from such a fate as threatens her. My life is, I know, menaced now. Well, I had better try to do some good before I go, if it is only to rid the world of this tyrannical scoundrel and—"

Murray stopped short, the doctor darted to a chest and snatched out a revolver, and Mr Braine seized a sword hanging upon a couple of hooks against the wall; for all at once a violent scuffling and panting arose from beneath their feet, telling that two men were contending, and all doubt as to who one of them might be, was set aside the next moment by a familiar voice.

"Ah-hah! would ye—ye thayving baste? Shure, would ye? Take that, and that, and that."

It was plain, too, what the donations were from the sounds which followed them—dull heavy thuds of blows delivered by a sturdy fist.

The struggle was continued as all hurried out into the veranda, and down the steps to plunge below the house into the intense darkness, where all was now silent.

"Who's there?" said the doctor. "Driscol, where are you?"

There was no reply.

"Surely the poor fellow has not been stabbed!" cried the doctor excitedly. "Wait till I fetch a light."

He hurried back, leaving Murray and Mr Braine trying in vain to penetrate the darkness, so as to make out whether any one was near. Then the doctor's steps were heard overhead, and his voice came down so distinctly, that both felt how a listener would hear every word.

"Don't be alarmed," he said. "Driscol caught some Malay scoundrel prowling about."

"Where is my husband!" said Mrs Braine.

"Down below with Murray. How is Amy?"

"Calmer now."

"That's right. Back directly."

And then the doctor's step made the bamboo creak as he crossed the room.

"Whoever it was must have heard every word we said," whispered Mr Braine.

Just then the lamp the doctor carried shone down through the steps, and directly after among the posts which supported the house.

"Well?" he said, holding the lamp above his head; "heard any one?"

"Yes," said Mr Braine in a low tone. "You."

"You heard me speaking?"

"Every word you said."

"How unfortunate! But where is my man? There is no one here."

"Thank goodness!" said Mr Braine. "I was afraid the poor fellow had been stabbed. But let's look round."

The lamp's light was directed in all directions, but there was no sign except in one spot where the ground had been trampled, and a climbing-plant torn down.

"We must try to follow the trail," said the doctor; but at that moment steps were heard, and the whisking noise of some body passing through the bushes and shrubs the doctor had collected about the back of his house.

"Who's that?" cried Mr Braine, sharply.

"Only me, sor. Is the master there? Oh, there you are, sor. I wint after him, sor, for he made me a bit mad shticking at me with his kris thing."

"Are you wounded?"

"Only just a bit of a prick, sor. I've put my hankychy round it. In me arm here. It's jist nawthing."

"But who was it? What does it mean?" said the doctor, hastily examining the man's arm, while Mr Braine held the light.

"Who was it, sor? Well, I hardly know. It was so dark, but if I was to guess by the face of the man, I should say it was Mr Tumongong—an' what a name for a gintleman!—and what does it mane? Well, sor, I was having just a little whiff out of me bamboo-pipe, and takking a look round, or a feel round, it was so dark, before going to bed, when I heard a bit of a rustle, and I backed under the house to get away, for I thought it was a tiger; but it was a man, and he kept on coming nearer till he was right underneath here, and close to where we stand, and hiff—!"

"Did I hurt you?" said the doctor, who was binding Tim's wound.

"Yes, sor, thank ye, sor. It did rather, but I don't mind. Well, sor, he was listening to you gintlemen up-stairs; and as I thought it moighty ondacent, I laid howld of him, and nipped him, and we scuffled a bit, and then he pricked me wid his kris, and I hit him two or three cracks wid me fist, for I had no stick. Then he went off in the dark, and I afther him; but there wasn't a chance of catching him, for he went through the trees like a sarpent, and of course, sor, the man who runs has a better chance than the man who runs afther him."

"Did you see where he made for?" said the doctor.

"And is it see on a night like this, sor?"

"No, no. Of course not. There, come into the house, it must have been some scoundrel trying what he could pick up. Come, Braine."

They went back up the stairs into the room where Mrs Barnes and Mrs Braine were anxiously awaiting their coming, and told them that it was only a scare.

"Driscol heard some one about the place, and tried to hold him," the doctor said. "Don't be alarmed."

"But I am alarmed," said Mrs Barnes, excitedly. "I am sure there is some great trouble coming upon us."

"Then act like a true Englishwoman," said the doctor; "help your husband. Don't hinder him by being weak and hysterical."

"I'll try," said Mrs Barnes, speaking firmly.

"That's right. Now Braine, what do you propose doing next?"

"Nothing. We must wait."

"But Amy—my child?"

"I am thinking of her as much as you are," said Mr Braine, "and I see no other course but to stand firm, and to give the rajah to understand that such a thing as he is bent upon is impossible. Mr Murray will stand by us."