That's pretty good for this climate. Yes, I'll take another cigar. But I say, Chumbley, this is very awkward."

"Would be very awkward, you mean."

"Yes, of course. And we are all unarmed."

"Well, not quite all," said Chumbley. "Being a sort of man-at-arms--a kind of wasp amongst the human insects--I always carry my sting."

"What! have you anything with you?"

"Pistol and a few cartridges," replied Chumbley, coolly.

"And I should have had my gun. You know my little double-barrelled Adams, don't you?"

"Yes; the one with the dent in the stock."

"That's the one, my lad! Well, I should have had that with me if it had not been for Mrs Bolter. I wanted to bring it, so as to collect a little, and she said it was folly, so I had to put it away. Have the others any arms?"

"Two apiece," said Chumbley. "Fleshy."

"And you can joke at a time like this?" exclaimed the doctor excitedly, while the swarthy steersman looked down at him wonderingly.

"Well, where's the use of doing anything else about what was only a pa.s.sing fancy on my part. Come, doctor, smoke your cigar in peace.

Perhaps, after all, Murad means to be as amiable as host can be, and we shall all get back to the station, having found no worse enemies than the sun and the champagne."

"Champagne? Nonsense, man. We shall have to drink palm wine."

"Perhaps so; but I'll make an affidavit, as the lawyers call it, that there are half a dozen cases on board with the brand _Pfungst, Epernay_ upon them, and--"

"Look--look!" exclaimed the doctor, laying his hand upon his companion's arm.

"What--what at?" said Chumbley, coolly. "I don't see anything dangerous."

"Dangerous--no! Look at that tree laden with blossoms to the water's edge."

"Yes, I see it. Very pretty. Can you see a tiger's nose poking through?"

"No, no, man; but look at the magnificent b.u.t.terflies--four of them.

Why, they must be nine inches across the wings. Where's Rosebury?"

"Oh! come, doctor: you are better," exclaimed Chumbley, smiling.

"That's right; don't think any more about my scare."

"This trip is completely spoiled," exclaimed the doctor, excitedly. "No shooting--no collecting! Oh! for goodness' sake, look at that bird, Chumbley!"

"What, that little humpbacked chap on the dry twig?"

"Yes."

"Hah! he looks as if he has got the pip."

"My dear fellow, that's one of the lovely cinnamon-backed trogons. Look at his crimson breast and pencilled wings."

"Yes, very pretty," said Chumbley; "but I often think, doctor, that I'd give something to see half a dozen sooty London sparrows in a genuine old English fog."

"Nonsense, man. There, too--look!" he cried, pointing, as like a streak of white light a great bird flew across the river. "That's a white eagle. I never have such chances as this when I'm out collecting."

"S'pose not," said Chumbley, drily. "It's always the case when a fellow has no gun. Precious good job for the birds."

"Oh! this is maddening!" cried the doctor. "Look--look at that, Chumbley," and he pointed to the dead branch of a tree, upon which a bird sat motionless, with the sun's rays seeming to flash from its feathers.

"Yes, that is rather a pretty chap," said Chumbley. "Plays lawn tennis evidently. Look at his tail."

"Yes, that is one of the lovely racket-tailed kingfishers, Chumbley.

Ah! I wish, my dear boy, you had a little more taste for natural history. That is a very, very rare specimen, and I'd give almost anything to possess it."

"Aren't those long feathers in his way when he dives after fish?" said Chumbley.

"There it is, you see," cried the doctor. "You un.o.bservant men display your ignorance the moment you open your lips. These Malay kingfishers do not dive after fish, but chase the beetles and b.u.t.terflies."

"Poor beetles! and poor b.u.t.terflies!" said Chumbley, with his eyes half closed. "I say, doctor, this is very delightful and dreamy. I begin to wish I was a rajah somewhere up the river here, with plenty of slaves and a boat, and no hara.s.sing drills, and tight uniform, and no one to bully me--not even a wife. I say, old fellow, if I am missing some day, don't let them look for me, because I shall have taken to the jungle.

I'm sick of civilisation and all its shams."

"Hallo! you two," cried a voice. "Come, I say, this isn't fair. Here they are, Hilton."

It was the Resident who spoke, and Captain Hilton also appeared the next moment, the four gentlemen so completely filling up the s.p.a.ce that the steersman hardly had room to work his oar.

"It's all right," said Chumbley, coolly. "The doctor was giving me a lesson in natural history."

"With the help of a cigar," said Hilton. "Shall we join them, Harley?"

"Yes--no. We had better get back. The Rajah might think himself slighted if we stayed away."

"Yes, you're right," exclaimed Chumbley; and getting up slowly, they all made their way back to the covered-in portion of the boat, where the beauties of the river were being discussed, and where Hilton found a seat beside Helen Perowne.

"How nice little Stuart looks in her white dress!" thought Chumbley to himself. "A fellow might do worse than marry her. Humph! Is Mr Rajah Murad going to try it on there, as he has been disappointed in Helen Perowne? No; it is only civility. 'Pon my word the fellow is quite the natural gentleman, and can't have such ideas in his head as those for which I gave him credit."

Chumbley chatted first with one and then with another; while in his soft, quiet way, looking handsome and full of desire to please his guests, the Rajah threw off his Eastern lethargy of manner, and seemed to be constantly on the watch for some fresh way of adding to the pleasures of the trip.

Not that it wanted additions, for to sit there in the shade, listening to the plash of oars and the musical ripple of the clear water against the sides of the boat, while the ever-changing panorama of green trees waving, rich bright blossoms, with now and then a glimpse of purple mountain and pale blue hazy hill, was sufficiently interesting to gratify the most exacting mind.

Now and then they pa.s.sed a native village or campong, with its bamboo houses raised on platforms, the gable-ended roofs thatched with palm-leaves, and the walls frequently ingeniously woven in checkered patterns with strips of cane. The boats attached to posts or palm-tree trunks told of the aquatic lives of the people, this being a roadless country, and the rivers forming the highway from village to village or town to town.

The easy motion of the boat, the musical ripple of the water, the rhythmical sweep of the oars, and the ever-changing scenery in that pure atmosphere, redolent with the almost cloying scent of the flowers, seemed to produce its effect on all, and the conversation soon gave place to a dreamy silence, in which the beauty of the river was watched with half-closed eyes, till after some hours' rowing against stream, a loud drumming and beating of gongs was heard, making the doctor and Chumbley exchange glances, and the former whispered to the lieutenant:

"Does that mean mischief?"

"Don't know: can't say," was the reply. "It may mean welcome. All we can do is to keep quiet and our eyes open, then we shall see."

"Very philosophical, but precious unsatisfactory," muttered the doctor, as the boats went on towards where a cl.u.s.ter of houses showed their pointed roofs amidst the cocoa-palm, and here a couple of flags were flying, one yellow, the other the familiar union-jack; while under the trees could be seen a party of gaily-dressed women, among whom, by the aid of a lorgnette, Hilton could make out the tall, commanding figure of the Malay Princess.