"Whisht!" said Tim. "Tibakky;" and he divided about half the contents of the box, the leaf being eagerly received and deposited in a fold of the sarong.

"Whisht!" said Tim again, after a stealthy glance back at the house, and putting the tobacco back, he drew out a bottle. "Will you drink the new ranee's health?"

His question was received in utter silence.

"No!" said Tim. "I thought you wouldn't, and I'm sorry for your religion. Well, I will. Long life to my darling young misthress!"

He took out the cork, passed his hand over the top of the bottle, and then applying it to his lips, took a long gurgling draught, swallowing pretty well a pint before he lowered the flask, the Malays gazing longingly at him as he drank.

"I'm sorry for you, boys," said Tim; "for that's a drop of good stuff," and he replaced the bottle. "But, look here," he said, with a laugh, "left from up-stairs;" and holding up the basket, he took out a cake or sweet of the kind cleverly concocted by the Malay women, and began to eat. "Any one do a bit in this way!" he continued, with his mouth full.

If he had offered the bottle now, they would have drunk from it to a man, and after a momentary pause the chief of the guard took a cake from the basket, broke off a scrap, removed his betel-nut, tasted the sweet, took a good bite, and uttered a low guttural order; which resulted in each man taking a cake, the last man growing excited from the belief that they would not go round; but there was just one each, and the head-man spoke again, with the result that his men went back to their posts eating greedily, while Tim stood in the darkness trembling with excitement.

"Well," he said, fearing to betray himself; "now then for my snooze. Good-night!"

The Malay laid his hand upon his shoulder. "Stop!" he said, "let me taste from the bottle."

"Don't apologise," said Tim, wilfully misunderstanding him. "I was always the man to respect any one who stood by his religion, and so was my mother before me. Good-night."

Tim turned into the house. "Oh, murther," he muttered, returning to his own tongue; "the wine might have shpoilt the docthor's rat poison. What an eshcape!"

"Well?" whispered Mr Braine and the doctor in a breath, as Tim appeared looking white and scared.

"Oh, they've tuk it, ivery mother's son of thim, gintlemen; an' if they all die, docthor, don't go and say it was me doing when I'm not here."

"Die? Nonsense!"

"Oh no, it isn't, sor, and I've made a dhreadful mistake."

"Mistake? Failed?" cried Mr Braine, horrified.

"Sure no, sor, I haven't failed; I've succayded too much."

"But you said you had made a mistake, man."

"Yes, sor. I tuk wan of the cakes meself."

The announcement was received with a blank look of despair.

"Sure sor, don't stand looking at me loike that, please. Thin aren't ye going to give me an anecdote?"

"No antidote would be available, my poor fellow. But how could you make such a blunder? I showed you so carefully."

"Sure ye did, sor, but I was a bit flurried."

"You ate a cake?"

"Oh yes, sor," said Tim, dismally. "I ate wan, and I didn't taste the shtuff till it was down."

"But you couldn't taste it, man."

"Sure, sor, but I did quite sthrong," groaned Tim, sinking on one of the divans.

"But tell me, how do you feel?"

"Horrid bad, sor; shlapy, and it's creeping up me legs. Ye'll have to carry me or lave me behind."

"Whatever can we do?" said Mr Braine.

"Perhaps exertion and the night air will revive him," said the doctor. "I'll give him something too."

He hastily mixed a draught, which Tim drank gratefully, and then lay back with Frank supporting his head.

"How long will it be before the potion acts on the men?" said Mr Braine.

"Very few minutes before it begins, but of course not on all alike. Some one must steal down and watch."

"I'll go," said Frank, and creeping down to the lower rooms—the sheds used by the women and Tim—he stood close to the door, and then by degrees from bush to bush, on and on, till in less than half an hour he was back with the expectant group.

"They are all sleeping heavily," he said. "How is Tim?"

His father pointed to the divan, where the man lay apparently insensible, with Mr Greig bathing his head.

"It is all over," said Braine, sadly; "we cannot leave the poor fellow."

"Oh!" cried Frank, dashing at the man and shaking him violently.

"All right. Moind me head, Masther Frank! I'm ready, sor."

"Can you walk?"

"Can I walk? Hark at him," said Tim, drowsily. "I'll show ye all."

"Here, we'll try," said Mr Braine. "Take these. Put the revolver in his breast. Can you carry a gun, man?"

"For sartain," said Tim, stupidly.

"Then ready. Not a moment is to be lost," whispered Mr Braine. "Lead the way, Frank, and if we by chance are separated, every one is to make for the tall clump of trees this side of the stockade."

"And chirp like this," said Frank, imitating a bird. "That will bring the boat."

"Then forward. Not a word."

They stepped out on to the veranda, and gazed down into the black darkness, with the lightning still quivering and flickering in the distance.

All was perfectly still in the garden for a few moments, and then there was a heavy stertorous breathing, which sounded louder as they descended and passed quickly on down to the gate; Tim staggering a little, but keeping step for step with the doctor, who supported him by the arm.

Frank led as he had been instructed, and heard the heavy breathing to right and left; but it was not until he reached the entrance that he really came in contact with the guards, for there lay one right across the path, and another had his arms folded on the bamboo top rail of the gate, and hindered further progress.

To step over the prostrate man was easy, but this other completely barred the way. Frank waited till his father came up, and he heard him draw his breath heavily, and stand thinking.

"We cannot stand over trifles now," said Mr Braine. "Desperate remedies are our only hope;" and, after hesitating a moment or two, he gently passed his arm round the soft lithe body of the Malay, lifted him from the gate, and let him sink to the ground beside his companion.

Those were critical moments, and all looked on trembling; but the man only muttered a little, and, with a heavy sigh, went off into a deeper sleep.

The party stood listening for a few moments, and then started for the stockade, in and out among houses and gardens, where all was silent save the occasional cackle and movement of the game-fowls many of the people kept. Twice they heard voices, but the place seemed to be pretty well plunged in slumber, and, with his spirits rising moment by moment, Frank hurried on, with Amy close behind him, till the houses were left behind without a soul being encountered; but now, as they neared the river, there were other dangers to fear.

Of the reptiles Frank thought little. The danger was from the naga that was always patrolling the stream night and day, especially the former, on the look-out for trading vessels trying to slip by in the darkness and in the silence of the night. Knowing how sound travelled, he was in agony lest there should be word or whisper to excite the Malays' suspicion.

But fortune favoured them. He caught sight of the dark hulls of the prahus, but the boat was invisible, and as Frank crept on along the river-bank listening to the strange sighings and splashings of the river, he at last made out the great tree beneath which he had rescued Ned from a horrible death, and a quarter of a mile farther on, through the wet untrampled shore-growth, where twice over he heard the rushing and splash of some reptile, he paused by a thick bed of reeds and grass, with bushes overhanging the river's edge.

Here he stopped till the others joined him—Tim still staggering on with the doctor's help—and then moved forward again by a tall palm.

He listened, and everything but the splashing of fish and reptiles was still. There was no dipping of oar or creak of bamboo against wood.

Suddenly a low chirping sound rose from the midst of the party, and was answered from a dozen yards distant. Then came the rustling of some one forcing his way through the bushes, and Ned stood among them, silently grasping hand after hand.

"I was afraid they'd got you, Frank," he said.

"No; it's all right."

"But where's my uncle?"

There was silence, and then Mr Braine explained their position.

"I see," said Ned, firmly; "but we cannot stir from here without him."

"No; we are going to get him out at any cost."

"How?" said Ned.

"Hist! speak lower," whispered Mr Braine. "Drop down in the boat to the point nearest his house, and there part of us land."

"But you say he is guarded."

"Yes. The case is desperate. But, first of all, let's get on board."

"No," said Ned; "you are going to forsake him. I will not go."

"I give you my word as a gentleman, sir," said Mr Braine, coldly.

Ned said no more, but acting as guide, led the way down to the boat, where, with Hamet's help, the ladies, arms, and ammunition were placed on board, and they all followed after, literally rolling Tim in over the side, to lie perfectly helpless at the bottom.

"Safe so far," said Mr Braine, as they crouched together in the fore-part, while the ladies were under the thatch awning shivering with dread.

"Catch hold, Ned. You too, Hamet," whispered Frank, who, remembering his own sufferings, thrust some food into the fasting pair's hands.

"Now," said Mr Braine, "there is no better plan. About three hundred yards below the big tree, by that cluster of palms."

"The prahus are near there," said Frank.

"A full hundred yards lower, boy," said his father. "You lads will keep the boat while we land."

"I am coming too," said Ned.

"No," whispered Mr Braine, angrily. "Take my orders, and keep the way of retreat open for us."

"I am not going to leave my uncle in that danger without coming to help," said Ned, stubbornly.

"Then come," said Mr Braine, angrily, but admiring the boy's determination all the same. "Now then, revolvers only, and they are only to be used if cunning fails. How many do we muster if it comes to a fight?"

"Hamet will come, father," said Frank.

"To save master? Yes," said the Malay, quietly.

"Four, Ned five," said Mr Braine. "Oh, if that poor fellow had not made the mistake. He is brave as—as—"

"An Irishman," said the doctor.

"Yes, as an Irishman or a Scot."

"But I don't think he's so very bad, father," whispered Frank.—"Here, I say, Tim. There's a fight."

"Foight? Eh!" said Tim, struggling up, and rubbing his eyes.

"Hush! whisper."

"But who said there was going to be a foight?"

"I did."

"Where? Come on!"

"Hush! Don't speak so loud. He's right enough, father."

"Then push the boat carefully out of this wilderness, and in Heaven's name let's go."

Hamet unfastened a rattan line, and the boat began to glide downward at once, with bush and leaf scratching and rustling against side and thatch, till they were clear of the dark vegetable tunnel into which it had been thrust the previous morning. Then taking a pole, the Malay punted it along close in-shore, thrusting the metal-shod staff quietly down till, when they had gone about a hundred yards in the profound darkness beneath the trees, the point struck on something hard, when instantly there was a tremendous eddying swirl, the boat rocked, and Hamet said quietly, "Crocodile."

A couple of minutes later Mr Braine pointed to the spot where he wished to land, and the boat was cleverly brought in close to the bank, here so steep that it lay invisible from the shore, the overhanging boughs hiding it from any one upon the river.

"Now, Frank," whispered his father, "there must be absolute silence. Not a word must be spoken. You and Mr Greig must keep the boat. You will be sure to hear us coming, so stand ready to cast off."

"Yes, father."

"Right," said Greig.

"And if matters come to the worst, let the boat drop down the river. Save the ladies, and try to get help."

"Yes, father," said Frank huskily. "Are you going to tell them what you are about to do?"

"No. Now then, ashore! Quick!"

One of the first to step quickly and silently out of the boat was Tim, and a minute later the boat-keepers saw the party disappear into the darkness; and then Frank sat there listening to a faint sigh or two, the rippling of the water beneath the boat, and trying to make out the shape of the nearest prahu.



CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

UP THE RIVER.

A halt was made as soon as the little party were well away from the boat, for arms to be examined, and a plan of attack arranged.

Hamet listened respectfully till it had been decided that the only way was for the party to creep up silently, seize and bind the guard, and then retreat at once—a rather reckless proceeding, but one that seemed to them the most likely to succeed—and then he whispered a few words to Ned.

"Hamet proposes, sir, that we should try to communicate with my uncle from the back of the house or the roof. He says he could climb the durian tree and break through quietly."

"Then let him try," said Mr Braine, eagerly. "We will be ready to support him and attack if it is necessary."

Hamet drew in his breath at these words, and assuming the lead, took the party round through garden after garden, till they were only a few yards from the house, where they stood listening to a low, murmured conversation, which told where the guards had stationed themselves; and then going down on hands and knees, he crept away from them, leaving the others breathless with excitement, and listening for the alarm.

In a couple of minutes the Malay was back to catch Ned's hand and draw him away, to put in force the tactics which had enabled him to rescue the two lads on the previous night.

Ned followed him with beating heart, till they were beside one of the palm-tree posts which supported the house, and then submitting to the Malay's busy hands, he found himself placed with his arms grasping the post and his body curved a little, and comprehending the man's plans, he stood firm, while Hamet reached up as high as he could, planted one bare foot on the boy's back, the other on his shoulder, and then the bamboo supports of the matting walls creaked softly, as with the agility of a monkey he passed along to where the durian tree stretched a branch over the roof, upon which, by the help of the bough, he managed to swing himself, and then all was silent again.

Thump—thump—thump—thump. Ned felt his heart beat as he listened to the murmuring of the Malay guards' voices which came under the house, and as the boy stood there, his ears were strained for the next noise Hamet might make, wondering the while whether the guard would hear.

He was so near the spot where Murray would be lying, that he felt he had only to raise his voice a little to announce their presence, but he dared not speak. Then he started, for he knew that Hamet was at work, for there was a faint rustling, with an occasional crack, as of the breaking of a leaf; and as the boy stood there in the darkness, he knew that Hamet was cautiously cutting through the attap thatch, scrap by scrap, for now little pieces no bigger than elm-leaves began to fall about him.

This went on for what seemed to be an interminable length of time, and he began wondering how a Malay who knew so well how his fellow-countrymen made a roof, could be so long in making a hole big enough for a human body to pass, when a familiar voice close to his ear, as it seemed to him, exclaimed:

"Who's there? Stop, or I fire."

"Oh, uncle!" panted Ned to himself; "how could you be so stupid."

Then he threw himself down, for there was the quick movement of feet, the familiar creaking of the bamboo steps in front, that he had so often ascended and descended, and then his uncle's voice said loudly:

"Nothing wrong. Water—water!" And as if to himself—"I don't suppose they understand a word."

But it was evident that they comprehended the last word, for the bamboo floor creaked, and Ned plainly heard the sound of some one drinking. Then came the words, "Thank you;" the floor and steps creaked again, and after all had been silent for what seemed to be half an hour, the boy rose to his feet again, conscious that Hamet was hard at work, for the scraps fell fast.

Then came a pause, the faint creaking of the floor as if Murray had turned round, a dull expiration of the breath as of some one breathing very hard; and as Ned stood grasping the pillar, he felt that the slight house was quivering slightly.

Ned's heart beat now fast, and in imagination he saw his uncle hanging from Hamet's hands and being drawn upward toward the sloping roof.

Another creak, a loud rustle, and he knew that he had climbed—half drawn—through the palm thatch, and the pair were about to descend.

"Quick, quick!" thought Ned, "before they hear you;" and longing to go to Murray's help, he strained his head back and tried to pierce the thick darkness.

All at once there was an ominous crack, a violent rustling sound, and then a sharp jerk or check.

Murray had slipped, and was coming down fast, but he had saved himself, and from overhead now came a sharp whisper, "Quick!"

The command was needed, for the guard had taken the alarm. There was the rush of feet, a louder scrambling from above, and Hamet and Murray dropped down into the arms of the guards who came running under and round the house.

The struggle had commenced, and though Murray fought bravely, he had been taken at a disadvantage, and the help had come, apparently, in vain.

For, realising that the attempt had failed, Mr Braine and the doctor rushed to the assistance of the others, and a fierce melee ensued in the darkness, wherein the fresh comers, who dared not use their revolvers for fear of injuring friends, devoted their principal efforts to keeping the enemy from using their krises, weapons admirably suited for a close encounter.

It was only a matter of a minute or two.

"Murray—is Murray there?" cried the doctor.

"Yes," came from the ground. "I'm held—two men. Never mind me—save yourselves."

The fierce struggle went on almost in silence, for the Malays as they wrestled with the Englishmen, sought more to take prisoners than to strike, and uttered a low growling noise, more like that of wild beasts than men.

"It's of no use," whispered the doctor. "Braine, Ned, Hamet, make for the boat."

"Yes, quick! escape!" cried Murray, after a tremendous effort to get free.

"No, no," cried Ned, hoarsely, wresting his arm from the doctor's clutch; and with a short run he sprang upon one of the men who were holding Murray down.

The sudden action and the weight of his body in his leap drove the Malay from his hold, and, freed thus from one enemy, Murray made another desperate effort as Ned rolled over, got his right arm free, dashed his fist into his enemy's face, and sprang up.

"Now!" he panted, "all together for the boat."

He was striking out right and left now with nature's weapons, sending one man down, and keeping others at bay.

"Where's Ned?" he panted.

"Never mind me, uncle; run!" cried the boy.

"By-and-by," muttered Murray, striking out again and repeating his nephew's manoeuvre, but with the addition of a blow on the ear which knocked over the man seated on Ned.

"Now then, are you ready?" cried Murray, as Ned sprang up; and the Malays now gathered together, and after a few moments pause: "Look out!" cried Murray, "spears!" for the enemy were coming on again. But at that moment the doctor and Mr Braine pressed to the front, and four flashes, followed by the sharp reports of their revolvers, checked the assailants for the moment, and the party began to retreat rapidly.

But shouting excitedly now, the Malays pressed on, and two spears whistled by the ears of the retreating party.

"Ah, ye cowards!" cried a familiar voice; "tak that then," and shot after shot was rapidly fired, one of which was followed by a hoarse cry, and a man went down.

"Sure, I forgot all about it before," said Tim; "and I hadn't so much as a shtick."

"Silence!" said Mr Braine, sternly. "Don't fire again without orders. Forward, quick!"

It was quite time, for there was a loud confused noise of voices from all sides now, and, greatest danger of all, from the river to which they were hastening fast. Lights were gleaming amongst the trees, some of which Mr Braine saw were from the prahus, and it was evident that they would soon have an attack to repel from that side.

"No, no," whispered Hamet, just then. "This way."

For in his excitement Mr Braine was leading the party wide of the boat, which was reached at last, just as lanterns were moving on the river, and voices were shouting from different directions.

"Now for it!" whispered Mr Braine. "Quick! All in! Every man take an oar. We must make a dash for it. The stream will help us. Don't attempt to fire unless they board."

"No, no," cried Hamet again, as they struggled into their places; and there was so much authority in his tones, that for a while all paused, and the Malay silently took one of the poles from the side, and keeping the boat well under the shelter of the bank, forced her up stream instead of down, always keeping close to the shore.

Mr Braine saw the wisdom of the act directly, for the boat progressed slowly and without a splash, being a good thirty yards away as Murray's guards reached the bank just below where they had embarked.

An eager shouting and interchange of questions followed; two lights were seen moving down stream in a zigzag way, and all at once a dazzling blue light began to burn a couple of hundred yards from them, lighting up one of the prahus moored in mid-stream; but though every figure on the large vessel, and the shape of another near, stood out plain, the fugitives were in darkness, and though they felt that they must be seen, Hamet worked calmly and steadily with his pole, sending the boat higher and higher, the force of the stream being only slight so close to the bank.

Then, again, the wisdom of his plan became evident, for the bank was now dotted with dammar torches, and their swarthy bearers could be seen holding them over the water as they hurried down stream toward where the closing in of the jungle would soon preclude further progress on foot.

The blue light burning in a vessel on the first prahu died out, but before it was extinct another flamed up from the second prahu, and the scene was wonderfully picturesque to the little party still moving up stream. Both banks were lit up, with the shapes of the trees standing out distinct and clear, while the river seemed to flow on like glittering steel, on which, growing distinct now, three nagas were visible for a few moments and then disappeared.

By this time Hamet's efforts had sent the boat four hundred yards above the last prahu, and as he grew more distant, his strokes grew quicker and less cautious, till it was wonderful what speed one pair of arms kept up.

And now for the first time Mr Braine leant forward to the man and whispered: "Well done; but you are taking us farther from safety."

"No," said Hamet, quietly. "Up the river. Hide. Some night creep down. Back to Dindong."

"Yes. I see," said Mr Braine. "He is right."

Silence was preserved once more, and Hamet kept on so close in-shore that the overhanging boughs swept the thatched roof of the boat. Then all at once he thrust down his pole deep into the gravelly sand, and, as it were, anchored the boat.

"Now," he said, panting with his exertions; "all take oars and row."

"Yes," said Mr Braine, eagerly, and the oars were seized; but Hamet uttered a low "hist!" and all listened.

For a few moments English ears failed to catch that which had struck upon the more keen sense of the Malay, but soon enough they could hear beat—beat—beat—beat—the sound of rapidly plied oars, and it was plain that a naga had now come up the river in pursuit.



CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

A DETERMINED PURSUIT.

"Lost!" said Murray, bitterly.

"No," replied Mr Braine, quietly; "they have to take us yet."

"Hist!" whispered Hamet, and parting the overhanging boughs, he forced the boat in till, as far as they could tell, they were hidden—a branch acting as anchor—and they listened to the water rippling by them, and the beat, beat, of the oars.

Sound travels so rapidly over smooth water, that it was long before the fugitives could feel that the boat was close at hand. Then, on it sped nearer, and above the sound of the oars came that of voices in low, angry discussion. Two of the leaders were evidently disputing, and their words were plain to three at least on board.

Abreast now, and becoming then just visible through the drooping boughs, and as Ned and Frank sat together, hand clasped in hand, the unspoken question was: "Will any of the keen eyes on board see us."

"Our escape cut off this way," thought Ned, the next moment; and then he placed his lips close to Frank's ear and whispered, for the boy had suddenly given his hand a quick pressure.

"What did they say?"

"It was the Muntrie," whispered Frank in the same way. "Says there is no boat missing, and that we can't be on the river. The only boat out is the one up by, where we are in prison."

"Hist!" came from Hamet, and instead of the sound of oars growing fainter, they waxed loud.

The boat had been turned, and swept by them again down stream, the search being deemed useless.

Ten minutes after, when the beat of oars had died away, the boat was thrust out again, and all joined now in sending her up stream with a quiet steady stroke, which was kept to for a couple of hours; and then all at once the river mist began to be flushed with opal tints, the haggard faces of the occupants of the boat grew plain, and marks of blood were detected and rapidly washed away.

The bright sunshine and some refreshment sent a gleam of hopefulness into every breast, and the men rowed on with renewed energy. They were all together now, and if they could manage to sustain life for a few days, they would be able either to reach the campong of the neighbouring rajah, and throw themselves on his mercy, or, after hiding, drop down the river some dark night.

As the sun rose higher, their exertions began to tell; the strokes given by Frank and Ned grew more feeble, and a suitable place being found, the boat was run in under shelter among the overhanging boughs, and an hour's rest taken. Then once more forward, in spite of the heat, till well on in the afternoon, when, as Frank and Ned were again resting, and the boat was slowly making way against the stream, Ned spoke, for the first time for quite an hour.

"I suppose we've passed the place where they took us."

"Eh?" cried Frank, starting. "I don't know. I forgot that. I say, Hamet, hadn't we better go on the other side of the river?"

He had hardly uttered the words, when a spear flew from among the bushes not many yards away, and stuck in the bottom of the boat close to where Hamet was seated.

Mr Braine snatched his revolver from his waist and fired in the direction of the enemy, who replied with a couple more spears, both of which fell short, dropping into the water with a light splash, for Hamet had made a tremendous sweep with his oar, and sent the boat's head round toward the farther shore, so that in a minute or two they were out of danger.

"I will not fire again," Mr Braine said; "not that it much matters, for these men will warn any boat which follows that we have gone by."

At last the heat began to be less oppressive, and better progress was made. The party were divided into two crews, one of which rested while the other pulled, the four ladies insisting all through the night in taking an oar, so that as the sun rose next morning, they had reached the spot where the party had made their first exploring trip—the open park-like tract beyond the jungle, with a view of the hill-country in the distance.

"Why not halt here for a few hours!" the doctor said. "It is impossible for us to go on without getting food, and to stop at any village means danger."

His propositions were acceded to, and the boat run into a nook, where it was hidden from any one passing along the river; and the possibility and risk of shooting something to supplement their supplies were being discussed, when once more Hamet raised his hand.

There it was again, the faint beat of oars a long distance off, but plainly indicating pursuit; and with the knowledge that the enemy on the bank would tell of their passing, it was decided to land at once and strike for the hills. The mist would hide them for the time, and if their boat was not discovered, it would still be available after the danger had passed.

Very few minutes had elapsed before they were all ashore, and once more taking the way through the park-like country, Frank acting as guide, and taking care to keep his party well hidden from the river; an easy enough task, as the open glades were well furnished with clumps of trees, each of which acted as a screen from any one who might be in pursuit.

Of this, however, as the hours passed, there seemed no sign, and place after place was recognised in passing. The morning was glorious, and to the great satisfaction of all, game was seen to be sufficiently plentiful to set famine at defiance. But, of course, no shot was fired, the efforts of all being devoted to reaching the hills, where the first halt would be made for rest and food.

The comparative coolness of the air as they ascended, the lovely scenery of the higher ground, and the feeling of hopefulness that danger was escaped, at all events for the present, made the long tramp pleasant; and the ladies laughingly disclaimed all feelings of fatigue, when Mr Braine called a halt beneath a huge tree high up on the slope they had ascended, and from which they had their first glimpse of the river they had left.

They had just seated themselves about the baskets, and were laughingly sharing out the shrunken remains of the provisions hastily gathered, when the doctor said, "How long do you think it will be before the Rajah gives up the pursuit?" when Tim, who had been getting his breakfast ready, as he merrily whispered to the boys, and withdrawn to take it in smoke some distance apart, suddenly jogged his master's elbow.

"What is it, Tim? Oh yes; you are not forgotten. This is our—"

"Sure, we're none of us forgotten," whispered Tim, pointing.

And there, to the horror of the party, in a bend of the river, and apparently close to the spot where they had landed, lay two large prahus in the broad sunshine.

Every eye was fixed upon them as they glided straight in their direction along one of the bends of the winding river.

"Well, he means to capture us," said Mr Braine, quietly, as the prahus disappeared behind the trees; "but he will have to land his men, and even if they came on at once, it must be hours before they reached here. So breakfast, dinner, or whatever it is, and then another start."

The sight of the prahus did not act as an appetiser, but the meal was eaten, great care being exercised that no traces of their stay were scattered about, and then once more the word was "Forward!" and the tramp for safety recommenced in silence.

As they went on, Frank pointed to where Murray had shot his various specimens and found the pieces of tin ore; and they went on higher till a comparatively open spot was reached before crossing, where, as they were now so high, Frank stopped to reconnoitre, gazing down with shaded eyes into the plain and along the park-like slope they had ascended.

"I can't see any sign of the prahus, Frank," said Ned. "There's nothing on the river. Oh!"

"What's the matter?"

"Something flashed half a mile away there. Look down to the left of that great tree. That's the one where we stopped to eat."

"Spears. I see," whispered Frank. "Here, Hamet."

The man stepped to his side.

"Look!"

Hamet crept forward and peered between the leaves of a bush, and gazed down for some moments in silence. Then turning, he said calmly:

"Thirteen of the rajah's men. They are tracking us by the marks we have left, and will overtake us in less than an hour."

This was spoken in broken English, but no speech was ever more impressive to the hearers, and the gentlemen pressed together, while the ladies listened as if to their fate.

"Well," said Mr Braine, hoarsely. "You see. What do you say? Surrender or fight?"

"Fight," said Murray, after exchanging a glance with Amy; and the two boys uttered a faint "Hurrah!"



CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

OVERCOME.

"Now forward," said Mr Braine in a low earnest voice. "The plan will be to keep on till we come upon a place that we can hold against attack. Frank, Ned, lead on with the ladies; we will come last. Quick, and in silence. Single file."

Frank led on, but at the end of half an hour no likely spot had been found, and distant shouts told that their pursuers were closing in.

Mr Braine came now to the front.

"We must have some place found at once, boys," he whispered, avoiding the inquiring looks of the ladies. "If it is only a patch of rocks or a dense clump of trees."

But no such spot offered itself, and on all hands he could see how easily they would be surrounded and at the mercy of the enemy.

At the end of another quarter of an hour they were approaching a steeper place than usual, but their pursuers were very near now, and the gentlemen owned to themselves that though they might shoot down a few of their enemies, the Malays would certainly conquer; when Ned, who had been staring about him wildly for some minutes, suddenly uttered a low cry.

"Here, quick!" he cried. "Follow me;" and turning at a sharp angle to the left, he seemed to be going almost back to the enemy.

"Stop! Are you mad?" whispered Murray, dashing after the boy and seizing his arm.

"No. I know the place: this way."

"Yes, follow him," said Mr Braine. "He may know;" and without hesitation he ran after Ned for a few hundred yards, till the boy stopped to gaze about him wildly, as the voices of their pursuers were now very plainly heard.

"It was somewhere about here—somewhere about here," whispered Ned. "Yes, I know! Here!"

He pointed to a narrow rift just before him, and into this, as the ladies came up, he led them; the others followed, and they had hardly all passed from the heat and glow of the day into the cool darkness of the cavern into which Ned had slipped on his first expedition, when a big swarthy-looking Malay brushed by the bushes which masked the entrance, followed by two more, who paused and shouted.

"The heathens!" muttered Tim, who was the last to enter; "they've found us, and I've lost me poipe."

There was an answering shout, and the men went on, while those in the cave breathed more freely. They were for the moment safe.

There was shout after shout, now more distant, now close at hand, for, to the dismay of the fugitives, the Malays did not go far, but, as if scenting their prey, turned back, and came by the narrow crack again and again, and those within wondered that they passed it unseen, for the eager excited faces of the Malays were plain enough, and once they were not more than twenty yards away.

"There is some reason for their hanging about," whispered Mr Braine, as he stood there pistol in hand. "They must know of the place."

As he spoke there was a fresh shout, and four spear-armed men came to where the big fellow the fugitives had before seen was standing, rolling his opal eyes in every direction.

There was an answering shout from high up overhead, and as Ned stood gazing out past Mr Braine, he saw one of the men down the slope give a sudden leap, stoop down, and after securing something, hold up a bamboo-and-reed pipe.

"Bedad, they've found it," murmured Tim. "It fell out of me pocket."

"You've lost us now, Tim," whispered Frank.

"Whisht, sor. I couldn't help it. I haven't been meself since I took the masther's rat poison."

"You didn't, Tim. Father told me. You drank too much wine."

"Murther! Masther Frank. Why, so it was. It did get right into me legs."

"Silence!" whispered Mr Braine, sternly. "Ready with your arms."

He raised his revolver as he spoke, for the men who had disappeared had returned strengthened, and began to search eagerly about. Then one of them uttered a cry, pointed, and, levelling their weapons, they came on.

"Stand back!" roared Mr Braine, in their tongue; and he fired a shot over their heads.

This checked them for a minute, and they drew back behind the bushes to begin throwing spears, but the missiles only struck against the rocks at the side of the rift, and finding their efforts vain, they paused for a few moments. A few words ran from bush to bush, and Mr Braine whispered a warning, "Be ready;" and directly after, the more ominous word, "Fire!"

It was time, for the Malays dashed forward, kris in hand, but from out of the cave a scattered volley of revolver shots greeted them so warmly that two dropped, and the others fell back, followed by their wounded companions.

"A moment's respite," said Mr Braine. "Reload. We can beat them off."

A moment's respite, but not a minute's, for there was a wild shriek from the interior of the cave, and a chill ran through Ned. He had recalled the entrance to the place through which he had slipped, and he turned just as there was a rush, a burst of yells from within, answered by others from without, as the Malays again came on.

Then there was a wild struggle, the pistols were useless, and now thoroughly mastered by their lithe antagonists, all the efforts of the last few hours proved to have been in vain, for Mr Braine, Murray, the doctor, Mr Greig, Tim, and the two boys lay bound where they had been dragged out among the bushes, with the ladies seated weeping by them, and only one of the unfortunate party spoke.

It was Tim, who turned to the boys.

"Look at that now," he said; "I niver had a chance, and I've murthered one hand hitting it against the wall."

"Never mind," said Ned; "perhaps our time will come."

"Faix thin, me lad, I'd like to hear it shtrike at wanst."



CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

A BAD RETURN.

It was a dreary tramp down to the naga lying close beside their own, fastened to a tree on the river-bank; but though the two wounded men scowled at them, and even at the doctor who had offered to, and did dress their wounds, the rest of the Malays were respectful and friendly enough, for the Resident and doctor were favourites with them, and they could all recollect acts of kindness. The ladies were helped over difficult parts, and refreshments and water were freely offered to those who had, as the Malays thought, naturally enough tried to escape, while they on their part had received orders to recapture them, and been successful.

Then once more they were afloat, and for the first time Ned recognised their guardians of the jungle prison from which they had been rescued by Hamet, these men going back in their own boat, now reverted to its proper crew.

So the two nagas floated gently down the stream in the afternoon, reaching the campong at last; but they went down so leisurely that it was dark when they reached the jetty, shouting and beating a gong to announce their return in triumph.

Everything seemed very quiet at the village, and Ned tried to pierce the darkness and make out the place where they had lain in hiding, and that where they had landed to try to rescue Murray.

"I say," whispered Frank, rousing up from the despondent state in which he had sunk, "try and count the prahus."

Ned turned and looked in the other direction, but it was too dark, and he said he could not see.

"I can't either, but it seemed as if there were four."

The men sprang ashore, and secured the two boats before bidding their prisoners come out, and as one by one these landed, Mr Braine overheard a little of their conversation.

"We are to be all taken straight up to the rajah's," he whispered. "Keep up your courage, and let's hope yet. All may be well after all."

"Very kind of you to say so, Mr Braine," replied the doctor, "but—"

There was no time for further converse, the Malay head-man giving an order, and the whole party were marched off the jetty and up the broad path leading toward the rajah's; the crews of the two boats following with regular military step, till they reached a narrower part, where the way led between two houses, when suddenly, as if they had risen out of the earth, a body of men blocked the road, and guard and prisoners were halted.

Then there were cries of excitement, and orders given to retreat, but another body of enemies blocked the road in their rear.

For a few moments it seemed as if the prisoners were to be in the centre of a desperate encounter, but a few sharp commands sufficed to make the Malay guard sullenly give up their arms to a force ten times their number, and then the march toward the rajah's house was continued, but under a fresh guard now.

"What is the matter?" whispered Ned. "Is the rajah angry with them for taking us?"

"I don't quite know," said Frank. "It seems to me that—Wait a minute or two, it's so dark, and I can't make these men out."

They were marched directly after into the enclosure, now a blaze of light from the number of lanterns and dammar torches stuck about. The place, too, was filled with armed men, and as they were halted just at the foot of the steps, a Malay officer in scarlet and yellow came down, looked eagerly at the English party, and then signed to them to follow.

Frank tried to get to his father, but he was not allowed to advance till the ladies had all ascended to the broad veranda; then both lads were ordered to go up, and they followed their seniors into the rajah's chief room, now brilliantly lit, and dotted with his chief men, while he sat on a bamboo stool at the far end in his gorgeous uniform as upon their first meeting, the Tumongong sitting upon a second stool upon his right.

"Ugh! the old guy!" whispered Frank. "I wish—I say, look—it isn't him. Why, Ned, what's happened?"

The reason for this exclamation was the rising of the Tumongong, to tower above the double rank of sword and regalia bearers on either side. And to the astonishment of all present, he stretched out his hands, and, in very fair English, as he took Amy's and kissed them, said:

"My dear child, Allah be praised that you and yours are safe! Mrs Braine, Mrs Barnes, welcome home."

He kissed their hands in turn, and then greeted the gentlemen warmly before turning to the boys. "Frank—Edward Murray," he said, "safe; no one hurt? I am very, very glad."

"But," cried Mr Braine, eagerly, "the rajah?"

"I am the Rajah of Dah now," said the Malay chief with a touch of hauteur in his tones. "Are you surprised?"

"No," said Mr Braine, warmly. "Thank God! I knew that some day it must come."

"When the fruit was dead ripe, it would fall," said the new rajah, solemnly.

"And Sadi?"

"The tyrant, the robber and oppressor of all who ascended and descended this river, is dead, sir, and with your help, I hope that a new period of peace will open on the land. The time was ripe at last, and I sent to my ally here, Rajah Alleen."

This chief rose and was presented to all in turn, bowing with Eastern dignity, and the scene would have been impressive but for the Malay's vanity. The gorgeous military uniform of his enemy had excited his cupidity ever since reports had reached him of its splendour, and the minute he had made an almost bloodless seizure of the campong, he had claimed it as his spoil, received it readily from his friend the ex-Tumongong, and arrayed himself in it ready for the return of the English people, whom he wished to impress.

He succeeded far above his expectations, for that night, when back at his old home, Frank said merrily:

"Why, it don't fit him half so well as it did poor old Sadi."

"No," assented Ned. "But—dead! how horrible!"

"Yes; one of his own men killed him, they say, for every one hated him except me."

"And you liked him?"

"No, I don't think I liked him," said Frank, taking up the kris Hamet had replaced in his hands; and then, with a shudder, hanging it upon the wall; "but he was always very kind to me."



CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

TIM PROVES HIMSELF A DRISCOL.

But for the presence of two strange prahus and their enormous crews, who seemed more than could be packed in the long swift vessels, it seemed impossible to believe in the great change that had taken place.

For the Resident, the doctor, the Greigs, and Murray were back in their houses, where the new rajah's people were constantly showing them tokens of their master's good-will. The people of the campong were all en fete, and the place was given up to rejoicings as they began to realise that new days were in prospect, and a man might call his life his own.

And not the least puzzled of the occupants of the place was Tim, who suddenly came confidentially to the boys as they sauntered back into the garden.

"Masther Frank," he said, "will ye have the goodness to pinch me arm?"

"Certainly, Tim," cried the boy.

"Aisy lad, aisy. Don't take the pace out. Thank ye; it's all right. I am wide awake."

"Of course you are."

"Oh, but I didn't know. I thought perhaps the masther's rat poison was still on me strong."

"Go along; it was the wine!"

Tim's eyes twinkled, and just then he heard himself called, and hurried in.

"It is a bit of a puzzle, Ned, isn't it?" said Frank. "I could hardly believe it at first. Hallo! What now?"

A party of the rajah's officers were at the gate to summon the doctor and Resident, with Murray and the boys, to an audience, both these gentlemen being at the doctor's house.

His highness received them with a great display of genuine, manly dignity, and with a showy retinue about him. He then spoke to his visitors in the Malay tongue, the Resident translating as of old, and bade them welcome to his court, assuring them of his friendship and of that of his people as long as they would stay.

He was thanked, but there was considerable hesitation in the way in which his offers were received. Then refreshments were handed round, and finally the court was dismissed, only the guards remaining outside, while the rajah led his visitors into an inner room, where coffee, sweets, and fruit stood on one mat, pipes on another.

"Now, gentlemen," said the rajah, "pray seat yourselves, and we will smoke. My dear boys, there are sweets and fruit for you till you wish to go."

The boys did not wish to go, and as soon as they saw their elders settled down to their pipes, they began, as Frank expressed it, "just to try the fruit," and that fruit was tried, and obtained most favourable verdicts in every case.

At the end of a short conversation, the Resident said respectfully:

"May I ask your highness—?"

"Stop," said the rajah, laying his hand upon the Resident's arm, while the boys looked on and listened, "we have known each other for some years now, and I hoped that I had merited your friendship."

"Indeed, yes," said Mr Braine; "but you never trusted me even to speaking English, though I always felt that you could."

"My dear Mr Braine," said the rajah, "if I had spoken English to you alone some day, I should have betrayed myself, and—believe me, I wished to live. My predecessor was suspicious in the extreme, and you know how those fared whom he disliked."

"Yes," said the Resident with a shudder.

"I could speak English easily ten years ago. And, now henceforth, when we are alone, let there be no formality. You are an English gentleman. I have always tried to be a gentleman too."

"You always have been one," said Mr Braine, warmly.

"Thank you," said the rajah, holding out his hand. "Then, now listen, I want the help of my friends. By your guidance this land has grown powerful, but unfortunately it has been for evil. I want it to be powerful now for good. Stay with me as my friend and counsellor.—You, too, doctor, and Mr Greig; and as for you, Mr Murray, I am not quite the barbarian you think. Let all those past troubles be as an ugly vision of the night. Forget them and stay. I can admire your pursuits, and it will give me great gratification if you will make this place your home. My elephants and boats and men are at your service, and, of course, you are free to come and go as you please. You hesitate! Come, come; I implore you. Doctor, you will not forsake me?"

"Hang it, Tumongong—I beg pardon, I mean rajah, no."

"There," said the rajah, laughing; "I have you too. Murray, you will not go. I am not blind."

Murray held out his hand.

"In the cause of science," he said, smiling, "I stay."

"I ask for no more," said the rajah. "Here boys," he cried, "you've had enough fruit; you are going to stop. Frank, my lad, at any time you want anything, ask me for it as your old friend."

"Thank you," cried Frank, eagerly; "then I want something now."

"What is it?"

"Give me a new kris."

"Why? A handsome one was given to you."

"Yes," said Frank, with a slight twitching of the brows, "but I'm not going to wear that again."

The rajah took one of two that he was wearing and gave it to the boy.

"Keep it as my present," he said; "and I hope, boy, you will live to see the day when the kris has given place to good honest laws which protect people so that they can go unarmed."

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There needs no telling how, as soon as the rajah's ally had gone, the campong settled down to its everyday life, but that life grew more and more new. The Resident and the doctor stayed; Mr Greig began to make trade flourish; and Murray went on with his collecting, working energetically for six months, when he was obliged to return to England with Ned.

But they were both back again within six months more, and a friend of Murray's accompanied him. He was a clergyman, but a great naturalist, and he joined his friend in collecting, till one day there was a great festival, for an English gentleman was married to an English lady, a certain Mr Wilson coming up from Dindong to be best-man. Afterwards the happy pair went down the river and along the coast to Malacca to spend their honeymoon; while Ned Murray stayed at the campong to look after the specimens and enjoy himself to his heart's content.

Then the happy pair came back, and there was constant talk of going back to England when the collecting was done; but the collecting never was done, and Murray set to work to write a book on the natural history of the place, that meant years of delightful work, so they stayed on to see the land improving month by month, and find the rajah their firmest friend.

A couple of years had passed, when one day Frank, who had developed a great love for mineralogy, and Ned, who promised to be a great authority on botany, came upon Tim Driscol busily improving the Murrays' garden.

"What are you doing, Tim?" said Ned.

"Jist putting in a few of Miss Amy's—"

"Mrs," said Frank, sharply, and Tim slapped his own mouth.

"Av coorse," he said. "A few crapers and a bit of chumpadah, and some scinted things she likes. Oh, it's a baste of a place, but one must make the best of it."

"Why don't you go back to the old country, then?" said Ned.

Tim gave him a droll look.

"Bekase I'm a Driscol, sor."

"And what's that got to do with it?"

"Sure, Masther Ned, there nivver was a Driscol yet who didn't know when he was well off."

"Why, Ned," cried Frank, laughing, "he's a philosopher."

"Yis, sor," said Tim, "and I get more so every day. But, by your lave, when are you young gentlemen going back?" They answered together: "I don't know."

THE END.