Ned took hold of the handle and drew the little weapon from its light-coloured wood sheath to find that it was very broad just at the hilt, and rapidly curved down to a narrow, wavy or flame shaped blade, roughly sharp on both edges, and running down to a very fine point. It was not polished and clear like European steel, but dull, rough, and dead, full of a curious-looking grain, as if two or three different kinds of metal had been welded together, while up near the hilt there was a beautiful arabesque pattern in gold.

"Ugh!" said Ned, returning it to its sheath; "it's a nasty-looking thing. Is it poisoned?"

"Not it. A thing like that doesn't want any poison upon it."

"But krises are poisoned."

"I never saw one that was, and father says he never did. He has asked several of the big men here about them, and they always laugh and say it is nonsense; that the only poison in them is given by a good strong arm.

Everybody wears a kris here," he continued, as he returned the weapon to his waistband. "Perhaps old Jamjah will give you one."

"I don't want one," said Ned. Then, suddenly, "It seems a stupid sort of handle, doesn't it?"

"Yes; more like a pistol, but they like it, and they know how to use it too. I say, I hope the old chap will ask you too, next time he asks me.

It's capital fun, for you can hear all his wives whispering together behind the mat curtains, and they get peeping at you while you're having all the good things, and are longing to join in, but they mustn't be seen by a giaour, or the son of a giaour, as they call me. I say, if you like I'll talk to the old fellow about you, and then he's sure to ask you."

"No, don't please," replied Ned. "I nearly burst out laughing when I saw him yesterday."

"I say, it's precious lucky for you that you didn't. He'd never have forgiven you. Had he got on his grand uniform? Yes, he would have, to show himself off, and he does look comic in it too. You see it was made for him at a guess in London; and, my! it is rum to see him straddling about in it sometimes. He's just like a peac.o.c.k, and as proud of his feathers. But if you had laughed it would have been horrible. So mind what you are about, for he's sure to ask you some day, and he'll call you 'goo-ood boy' if you eat enough. I taught the old c.o.c.k parrot to say that. But, I say, aren't you getting hungry?"

"Yes," said Ned, quickly, for that seemed to account for a faint feeling from which he suffered.

"So am I. Daresay the old croc is," said the lad, grinning.

"Oh!" cried Ned, offering his hand, "I am grateful to you for that."

"Stuff! That's all right."

"I shall never be able to repay you."

"How do you know? Some day you'll catch an elephant putting me in his trunk, or one of our prize striped torn tigers carrying me off, like a cat and a mouse. Then it will be your turn. Come on and have breakfast with us."

"No, I can't leave my uncle."

"Then I'll come and have breakfast with you. Old Jamjah will send you your rations, and they will be good till you offend him. Then you'd better look out for squalls."

"What do you mean?"

"Poison. But old Barnes will put you up to some dodges to keep that off, I daresay. Yes, I am hungry. Come on."

CHAPTER NINE.

NED LOSES HIS HAT.

The two lads had grown in an hour as intimate as if they had been friends for months, and they were chatting away together as they approached Murray's house, where Hamet was standing looking out.

"Hah!" he cried; "you are here. The master has been looking for you, and is gone again."

"Here he comes!" cried Ned's new companion, taking off and waving his cap as Murray came striding up, looked strangely at the Resident's son, and then turned to his nephew.

"I was getting anxious about you," he said. "Keep by me, my boy. Come along to breakfast. We are going up the river directly after. Mr Braine has been to say we are to go on with our work at once, and land and examine some hills about ten miles up."

"I know," said Ned's companion, "Gunong Bu."

Murray turned upon him sharply, but the lad was in nowise abashed.

"I'll go with you, and show you. I know the way through the jungle.

There's an old path. I've been--"

"Thank you," said Murray, coldly. "Come, my boy, the breakfast has all been sent on by the rajah."

"I knew he would send," said their visitor. "You keep friends with him, and you'll see how civil he can be."

Murray frowned a little; and, amused by his uncle being deceived as he had himself been, Ned said quietly, "he has come to breakfast with us, uncle."

"It is very kind of him," said Murray, coldly; "but he might have waited till he was asked."

"And then you wouldn't have asked me. I say, you; he thinks like you did, that I'm a n.i.g.g.e.r."

"Well," said Murray, quickly, "are you not a Malay, in spite of your perfect English?"

"Of course not, sir; I'm Frank Braine."

"My dear sir, I beg your pardon," cried Murray. "You should have told me, Ned. Come in, my lads, I'm getting sharp-set;" and directly after, they were seated, eastern fashion, cross-legged on the mat, which was spread with Malay luxuries, prominent among which was some excellent coffee, and a hearty meal was made, with the Resident's son as much at home as if he had been a very old friend; and hardly was it ended, when Mr Braine appeared.

"Ah, Frank," he said, smiling; "not long making yourself at home, I see.

The boat's ready, Mr Murray," he continued, "and plenty of provisions on board. I daresay you will get some new birds and insects on your way, and the rajah hopes you will make some discovery up in the hills."

"He seems reasonable," said Murray, laughing. "What would he like first--a gold-mine?"

"Oh, you must humour him, and then you will have plenty of opportunity for your own work. Will you want an interpreter beside your own man?"

"No," said Frank, quietly. "I'm going with them, father."

"You, my boy? Oh, very well, only try not to be rash; though I don't suppose you will have any adventures. You know, I suppose, that we have tiger and elephant about here, so take a rifle in case you meet big game."

The men were waiting below, and they were soon after despatched with Hamet to carry guns, ammunition, and the other impedimenta of a naturalist who is an enthusiastic collector. The gentlemen followed soon after, Mr Braine seeing them down to the boat, which proved to be a handsome naga, fully manned. The crew were well-armed, and as Ned glanced at their faces he, little observant as he was in such matters, could note that they were a strong, fierce-looking, determined party, who would stand at nothing their leader set them to do.

There was a friendly wave of the hand, followed by that of a couple of pocket handkerchiefs, as the boat swung out into the stream and began rapidly to ascend, for the doctor and his ladies had just strolled down to the bamboo jetty, but too late to see the party off.

"I say, don't do that," cried Frank, quickly, as Ned hung one arm over the side of the boat, and let the cool water run through his fingers.

"Of course not. I forgot Hamet did tell me."

"There's a chap at the next place with only one arm. He was hanging over the side of a boat holding his line with his hand, and a croc snapped it right off."

"Is that a traveller's tale, squire?" said Murray, drily.