"Are the men in it?" said Ned.

"No. All on board big prahu."

"Let's go and see, Frank."

"Very well, but you mean 'feel.' Why not wait till morning?"

"No can go then," said Hamet, quickly.

"Very good reason," said Frank, as thoughtful now as his companion.

"Yes, we might as well know. My father has often said he wished we had a boat of our own that we could use if we wanted to go away in a hurry, because the rajah had gone in a mad fit."

"Young masters come?"

"Yes. Go on and we'll follow," said Frank; "but look out for the crocs."

Hamet gave them a keen look, held up his hand, and threw himself down, crawled to the doorway, and out on to the veranda.

"Looking out for squalls," said Frank, laughingly.

In a minute Hamet was back.

"Can't see men. All dark. No one. No speak. Keep close to Hamet."

"Yes; we'll follow," said Ned, and after lowering the lamp a little by putting the wick back amongst the oil, they crept out on to the veranda, where all listened for a time and tried to pierce the darkness.

It was very quiet. Only a cry from the jungle, and a faint splash from the river; and descending quickly, Hamet took about a dozen paces at a run, and then stopped for the boys to overtake him.

"No one. No spears," he whispered, evidently fully convinced that his sharp run would have in some way brought him in contact with the guard if they had been there.

Then, going off quickly in the direction of the jetty, he turned off when about half-way there, and led his young companions in and out among the houses, and after pa.s.sing them, away along the edge of the rice-fields that skirted the village, the boys following in perfect silence for about a quarter of an hour, when Frank whispered: "He's going wrong, right away from the river."

"Hist!" whispered Hamet, and he went on again for another ten minutes, before Frank tried to speak again.

"It's all right," he said. "I know: it isn't where I thought. There's a creek runs right up ever so far among the rice-fields. I never went there, but that's where he is going."

"Hist!" whispered Hamet.

"Oh bother! You need not be so particular now. We're right away from all the houses. n.o.body would be down here.--I say, Ned, how do you like your walk?"

"It's very dark and awkward," said Ned; "but I don't mind. I should like to be able to tell uncle where the boat is."

They had now reached a part where trees were growing pretty thickly, and it was only by keeping close to their guide that they were able to make their way onward; but this confusing part of their journey was soon over, for Hamet suddenly stood fast as if puzzled, and uttered a word or two in a tone full of vexation.

"He can't find it after all," cried Frank. "Oh, what a bother, to drag us all this way for nothing."

"Hah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Malay, and catching Ned's hand, he drew him through the trees at right angles to their former course, and again suddenly stopped.

"Well, which way now?" asked Ned. "Can't you find it?"

"The boat--the boat!" whispered Hamet, and drawing Ned's arm out to full length, he made him stoop a little in the black darkness, with the result that the boy's hand rustled among the leaves of the attap covering.

"It's here, Frank," he said excitedly, and pressing down now with both hands, he felt the boat yield and then stop.

"Yes, that's a boat, sure enough," said Frank, who now felt about the top of the awning. "Yes, and I can feel the poles and oars. Why, this is quite a narrow ditch, only just wide enough to hold it. I've got hold of a rope, too. It's tied up to a cocoa-nut palm; I know the thing by the feel."

"Yes; the boat," whispered Hamet.

"All right. Then now you know where your own boat is, Ned, and when you are tired of us all, you can jump in and say 'Good-bye.'"

"Or take you with us," said Ned. "I don't want to go away from you.

Not so ungrateful as you think. Oh, don't! You needn't hug me like that. I say: don't act like a great girl. Ah, Ham--"

Then silence. For Ned felt, as he believed, his companion fling his arms affectionately about him, and so roughly that he bore him back. He felt the silken baju and sarong and the hilt of the kris against him, and then he went down heavily. Frank was evidently playing him some foolish trick, and he had clapped a hand now over his mouth to keep him from making a noise, and betraying their whereabouts.

Then a horrible pang of fear ran through him, for there were smothered sounds and scuffling going on close by, leaves cracked and stalks and twigs snapped, and directly after the hand was removed, and he opened his mouth to cry out, but something soft was thrust in, then a cloth was dragged over his head, his arms were bound to his body, and he felt himself lifted up, and carried by a couple of men.

"A piece of treachery," he thought. "And we trusted Hamet so. Poor Frank! Is he being served the same?"

He got as far as that point, and then the heat and the oppression caused by the gag so nearly stifled him that his brain grew confused; there was a sensation of giddiness and a singing in his ears.

"They are choking me," he thought; and he made a desperate struggle to get his hands to his lips, and then he remembered no more till he felt a sensation of something cool being trickled between his lips. It tasted bitter but pleasant, and in his half-insensible state he swallowed the grateful beverage, and swallowed again and again.

Then forgetfulness stole over him once, and he knew no more, till he opened his eyes and saw the level rays of the sun shining through the open doorway on to the mats that formed the side of the room.

"Going to get up, uncle?" he said, and then he stared, for a couple of dark faces were thrust in to stare at him, and as he looked quickly round, he could not see the guns on the walls, nor his uncle's specimens hanging out of reach of the ants, nor yet his uncle; but close beside him, lying on a mat, the figure of Frank, evidently fast asleep.

The two swarthy-looking faces were withdrawn slowly, and Ned turned, seized Frank by the shoulder, and shook him violently.

"Don't, father!" was the result, as Frank spoke, without unclosing his eyes. "Let me lie a bit longer. My head is so bad."

"Frank, old chap, wake up. Where are we? What does it all mean?"

The boy opened his eyes and sat up, stared round, rubbed himself, and then gazed at his companion.

"I--what does it mean? I--what--I remember now. Some one jumped on me and stuffed something into my mouth. I thought it was you then. It was that Hamet. What does he mean? Here, we're not tied now; let's get out of this. I say, where's my kris?"

He sprang up, and Ned followed his example, both making for the doorway, but only to be confronted directly by four spearmen, who effectually barred the way.

"Eh," said Frank, thoughtfully, "that's it, is it? 'Tisn't one of Hamet's games. Here you," he continued, speaking now in Malay; "what does all this mean? Why are we brought here?"

One of the men answered respectfully enough, and Frank turned from the door to face his companion.

"Those are the rajah's chaps, and that fellow says we are to stay here.

I know: they thought we were going to cut off in that boat. Here you, where's Hamet?"

The man addressed looked at him half smilingly, but made no reply.

"He won't speak," said Frank, impatiently. "It's no good to try. You might as well ask questions of a cocoa-nut. I hope they haven't given him the kris. Here, you: tell me this--Hamet--has he had the kris?"