"And rob ourselves of our right hand?" said the doctor, warmly. "No!"

"Thank ye, sor," said Tim. "I thought I'd say that, for ye may remimber once making a mistake, and nearly cut off your right hand--I mane meself."

"It was not a mistake, Tim, but an experiment with one of the native medicines."

"Faix, it just was, sor, and I'll niver forget it. But ye'll look loively, sor. There's plinty of the little cakes iv Masther Frank didn't ate thim all."

"I did not touch them, Tim," said Frank, eagerly.

"Then the day's our own, sor. You come down and docthor 'em, and I'll go and prepare the syle for the sade."

"What are you going to do?" said Mr Braine, quickly.

"Only shmoke me poipe in the gyarden, sor, and soother and blarney them over a bit. It'll kim aisier, thin, to go in and fetch a bit and sup from the panthry, and not be so suddint like. They're such desayving thayves of the world, they suspect everybody."

Tim went down, and the doctor busied himself at a medicine-chest for a few minutes before following him.

"Now, Greig, help me," said the Resident, turning down the lamps a little. "Frank, keep out of sight in case we are watched. You know where the doctor keeps his ammunition."

"Yes, father," was the reply, and the pair busied themselves in examining revolvers and guns, placing ammunition ready for flight, and finally arming the ladies, and thrusting an ornamental kris from the walls into their belts.

Then weapons were placed ready for the doctor and his man, their arrangements being about complete as the former returned looking pale and anxious.

"Ah," he said, on seeing the preparations, "that's right. It's hard to leave all our treasures and collections."

"Yes; but we must think only of ourselves."

"Of our wives and children," said Greig, quietly.

"Yes. But, tell me, what have you done?"

"Put a strong opiate in every cake."

"But those who take it--does it mean risk to their lives?"

"No. The worst that can happen may be a day or two's illness after.

That is not what I fear," said the doctor, significantly.

"What then?"

"The rajah's punishment of the poor wretches."

"Hah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr Braine, "but we must be selfish here for others'

sake."

A few more preparations were made by Frank's suggestion, every sc.r.a.p of food from below being placed in a couple of baskets; the two women who a.s.sisted Tim in the house having gone for the night some time before.

"Now," said the doctor, "what next? Matches and a lantern."

These were placed ready; a few comforting words said to the ladies--who were now calm, firm, and helpful, looking strangely Malayan in their garb, for they had trenched upon a store which, they had saved up as mementoes of their sojourn in the jungle--and then all sat down to listen and wait, the strange forest sounds coming faintly to their ears, mingled with the occasional mutterings of their guard.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

NED IS OBSTINATE.

Tim acted his part well. He strolled out from his "panthry," and sauntered along to where the chief of the guard stood gazing at him sternly; and trusting to the pretty good smattering of Malay he had picked up, he said quietly: "Going to be on guard all night?" The Malay nodded.

"Sorry for you," said Tim, beginning to fill his pipe. "I did six months' soldiering myself when I was a mere lad, and it was hard work keeping awake on sentry-go."

He struck a match and lit his pipe, lighting up the scowling face of the guard and his own good-humoured phiz.

"I say," he continued, "next boat you gentlemen overhaul, look sharp after the matches, if they've brought any up from Malacca, for we're getting short, and I don't care to take to the flint and steel."

Tim nodded and went on, smoking, to make the round of the place, stopping to say a word or two to the other armed men in his easy good-tempered way, seasoning his remarks with a joke or two, while the lightning flickered in a bank of black clouds across the river.

By degrees he made his way back to the head-man, and began to talk confidentially.

"I say," he said, "I suppose we shall all be big people now, when the rajah has married me young lady."

The Malay laughed softly, contemptuously. "Oh yes," he said. "Perhaps he'll make you Muntrie or Tumongong."

"Get out, making fun of a boy," said Tim, good-humouredly. "Well, good-luck to you, I've nearly finished my pipe. I'm tired, and going in to sleep. Take care of us. Good-night."

The Malay wished him good-night, and Tim turned to go, but stopped and pulled out his pouch.

"Have a bit o' tibakky!" he said. "It's the master's. Some the rajah gave him."

The Malay nodded eagerly, and Tim gave him two or three pipefuls.

"Here," he said, "I've got a lot. The master don't like it, and tells me to help myself. I'll fetch a bit for the other boys."

Tim lounged off, and at the end of a few minutes, with a small basket made of thin strips of bamboo, and still smoking, sauntered up to the head-man.

"Call 'em up," he said, in a low voice. "Don't talk loud; they've not gone to bed yet indoors."

The Malay gave Tim a peculiar searching look, but the Irishman was tapping the ash out of his pipe and putting it in his pocket, after which he took a bra.s.s box from the basket just as the Malay uttered a low guttural sound, and his men stole up silently one by one.

"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, pa.s.sed 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.