The party stood listening for a few moments, and then started for the stockade, in and out among houses and gardens, where all was silent save the occasional cackle and movement of the game-fowls many of the people kept. Twice they heard voices, but the place seemed to be pretty well plunged in slumber, and, with his spirits rising moment by moment, Frank hurried on, with Amy close behind him, till the houses were left behind without a soul being encountered; but now, as they neared the river, there were other dangers to fear.

Of the reptiles Frank thought little. The danger was from the naga that was always patrolling the stream night and day, especially the former, on the look-out for trading vessels trying to slip by in the darkness and in the silence of the night. Knowing how sound travelled, he was in agony lest there should be word or whisper to excite the Malays'

suspicion.

But fortune favoured them. He caught sight of the dark hulls of the prahus, but the boat was invisible, and as Frank crept on along the river-bank listening to the strange sighings and splashings of the river, he at last made out the great tree beneath which he had rescued Ned from a horrible death, and a quarter of a mile farther on, through the wet untrampled sh.o.r.e-growth, where twice over he heard the rushing and splash of some reptile, he paused by a thick bed of reeds and gra.s.s, with bushes overhanging the river's edge.

Here he stopped till the others joined him--Tim still staggering on with the doctor's help--and then moved forward again by a tall palm.

He listened, and everything but the splashing of fish and reptiles was still. There was no dipping of oar or creak of bamboo against wood.

Suddenly a low chirping sound rose from the midst of the party, and was answered from a dozen yards distant. Then came the rustling of some one forcing his way through the bushes, and Ned stood among them, silently grasping hand after hand.

"I was afraid they'd got you, Frank," he said.

"No; it's all right."

"But where's my uncle?"

There was silence, and then Mr Braine explained their position.

"I see," said Ned, firmly; "but we cannot stir from here without him."

"No; we are going to get him out at any cost."

"How?" said Ned.

"Hist! speak lower," whispered Mr Braine. "Drop down in the boat to the point nearest his house, and there part of us land."

"But you say he is guarded."

"Yes. The case is desperate. But, first of all, let's get on board."

"No," said Ned; "you are going to forsake him. I will not go."

"I give you my word as a gentleman, sir," said Mr Braine, coldly.

Ned said no more, but acting as guide, led the way down to the boat, where, with Hamet's help, the ladies, arms, and ammunition were placed on board, and they all followed after, literally rolling Tim in over the side, to lie perfectly helpless at the bottom.

"Safe so far," said Mr Braine, as they crouched together in the fore-part, while the ladies were under the thatch awning shivering with dread.

"Catch hold, Ned. You too, Hamet," whispered Frank, who, remembering his own sufferings, thrust some food into the fasting pair's hands.

"Now," said Mr Braine, "there is no better plan. About three hundred yards below the big tree, by that cl.u.s.ter of palms."

"The prahus are near there," said Frank.

"A full hundred yards lower, boy," said his father. "You lads will keep the boat while we land."

"I am coming too," said Ned.

"No," whispered Mr Braine, angrily. "Take my orders, and keep the way of retreat open for us."

"I am not going to leave my uncle in that danger without coming to help," said Ned, stubbornly.

"Then come," said Mr Braine, angrily, but admiring the boy's determination all the same. "Now then, revolvers only, and they are only to be used if cunning fails. How many do we muster if it comes to a fight?"

"Hamet will come, father," said Frank.

"To save master? Yes," said the Malay, quietly.

"Four, Ned five," said Mr Braine. "Oh, if that poor fellow had not made the mistake. He is brave as--as--"

"An Irishman," said the doctor.

"Yes, as an Irishman or a Scot."

"But I don't think he's so very bad, father," whispered Frank.--"Here, I say, Tim. There's a fight."

"Foight? Eh!" said Tim, struggling up, and rubbing his eyes.

"Hush! whisper."

"But who said there was going to be a foight?"

"I did."

"Where? Come on!"

"Hush! Don't speak so loud. He's right enough, father."

"Then push the boat carefully out of this wilderness, and in Heaven's name let's go."

Hamet unfastened a rattan line, and the boat began to glide downward at once, with bush and leaf scratching and rustling against side and thatch, till they were clear of the dark vegetable tunnel into which it had been thrust the previous morning. Then taking a pole, the Malay punted it along close in-sh.o.r.e, thrusting the metal-shod staff quietly down till, when they had gone about a hundred yards in the profound darkness beneath the trees, the point struck on something hard, when instantly there was a tremendous eddying swirl, the boat rocked, and Hamet said quietly, "Crocodile."

A couple of minutes later Mr Braine pointed to the spot where he wished to land, and the boat was cleverly brought in close to the bank, here so steep that it lay invisible from the sh.o.r.e, the overhanging boughs hiding it from any one upon the river.

"Now, Frank," whispered his father, "there must be absolute silence.

Not a word must be spoken. You and Mr Greig must keep the boat. You will be sure to hear us coming, so stand ready to cast off."

"Yes, father."

"Right," said Greig.

"And if matters come to the worst, let the boat drop down the river.

Save the ladies, and try to get help."

"Yes, father," said Frank huskily. "Are you going to tell them what you are about to do?"