"And make yourself sick."

"No; I'll make them sick. They'll bring a pipe and some burning charcoal."

"To light the pipe?"

"No; it will be to light this jolly old bamboo house. It will blaze up like fun."

"And roast us to death!"

"Not it. We won't be inside. Perhaps we can run away in the scrimmage."

Silence again, and hot, weary, and miserable, the boys lay there in the darkness, till a peculiar sound struck Ned's ear.

"Asleep?" he said.

"No; who's going to sleep if you talk so. Yes, there it is again.

Hurrah!"

"Then you did hear that sound?"

"Hear it? Yes. Know what it is?"

"I thought it was a crocodile in the river."

"So it is, and it shows that the river isn't far off. I wish there were none, and then we'd cut down some bamboos and float away to the village.

But not to-night. Let's go to sleep."

There was again silence, with the hot air growing unbearable, and Ned had just made up his mind to undress, when from out of the jungle, plainly heard through the thin plaited bamboo and palm walls, came a peculiar cry--_Coo-ow_, _coo-ow_--to be answered from farther away.

"What's that?" said Ned, half aloud, speaking to himself.

"Argus pheasant," said Frank, drowsily. "Oh, I do wish you wouldn't bother. Wonder whether they've got any of that stuff."

"What stuff?"

"To send us to sleep again."

"I wouldn't take a drop," thought Ned; and then in the hot silence he lay thinking about Frank's father, wondering what was going on at the rajah's village, and what his uncle thought of his absence, till weary nature closed his eyes, and even the loud cry of the argus pheasant and the melancholy howl of a tiger prowling about had no effect upon his slumbers.

But a touch effected that which sound had not produced.

For, mingled with his dreams, he had one of a great rat gnawing very softly somewhere by his head, and this kept on for what seemed in his dream like a tremendous length of time before it ceased, and the rat came in through the hole and began walking over his face and sat up on his lips.

That woke him, and he felt the perspiration standing on his brow, for it was no dream: the rat was seated on his lips, and as he lay motionless like one in a nightmare, he felt the little animal glide from his lips to his shoulder, then down his arm to where his hand lay upon his chest, play with the fingers for a few moments, and then grasp them firmly.

It was not a rat: it was a warm soft hand.

A sob escaped from Ned's breast, and he was about to speak, but his hand was pressed firmly, and he returned the grasp, for it felt like the hand of a friend, and if it were, it meant help and perhaps escape.

Turning quickly on his side, he leaned over and touched Frank, who started awake.

"Yes," he said loudly. "What is it?"

The hand was s.n.a.t.c.hed away.

"I told you. Argus pheas--fez--fuz--" snore.

Ned shook him again sharply.

"What's the matter?" he said, thoroughly waking up now.

"Hush! pray. Hist!" whispered Ned; and he pressed his companion's arm, for steps were heard on the creaking bamboo floor, a light shone through between the mat hangings, a dark face appeared and a lantern was held up, so that its dim light fell upon them.

Just then a bright thought occurred to Ned.

"Tell them to bring some water," he said, querulously; and Frank, who grasped the idea that there was something particular in the way, gave the order sharply to the man, who retired directly, and returned in a few minutes with another bearing a vessel of some pleasant, cool drink, of which Ned partook with avidity.

"Leave a fellow a drop," said Frank; and the half-full vessel was handed to him. "Ah, it ain't bad," he continued, as he too drank heartily.

"There, be off. Thank you," he added, in Malay; "the light hurts my eyes."

The man smiled as he took the vessel, and as Ned watched through his half-closed eyes, he saw that there was the gleam of spears in the outer room. Then the matting dropped behind their jailers, the bamboo floor creaked, the last rays of the light disappeared, and Frank rose softly, crept to the doorway, and peered under the matting.

"They're all out on the veranda," he whispered, as he returned. "What was the matter?"

Ned told him, and Frank uttered an excited "Ah!"

Then after a long silence:

"It's help come. P'r'aps it's old Hamet. Bah! you were dreaming."

"No; I am sure."

"Then," said Frank, with his lips close to his companion's ear; "if you were awake, there must be a hole for the hand to come through."

And as Ned listened, he heard the faint rustling of his companion's hand moving here and there, and then there was a heavy catching breath, and Frank's fingers were placed over his lips.

"Big hole under the mat. Behind your head. Hist! some one coming."

For there was a gleam of light, and then, hardly heard, save for a faint creak of the floor, some one approached, and Ned lay with his arm over his eyes, just making out that the lantern was thrust in, and that a head was visible between the mats and the door, while Frank lay as naturally as if in a heavy sleep, his head half off its resting-place.

The mats fell within again. There was another faint creak, the last gleam of light again disappeared, and the boys lay for a full half-hour without moving, while the silence was now broken by the heavy beating of their hearts.

All at once, after an interval which seemed terrible, the cry of the argus pheasant was repeated, and it sounded terribly near, while at the same moment Ned was conscious of a faint rustling, and the steamy dank scent of the jungle came to his nostrils.

The next moment fingers touched his cheek, were pressed upon his lips, touched his breast, and were gone directly; a slight start from Frank suggesting that he was now being touched. Then followed a faint rustling, and Frank leaned over, put his lips to Ned's ear, and said:

"The hand touched me, then went down to my waist, and it has taken my kris. It's a thief. Shall I call for help?"

At that moment he felt his hand seized and tugged. Then again, and it was drawn under the mat to the opening above their heads.