"Here, let's go," whispered Archie; and he started up from his chair, whose bamboo legs sc.r.a.ped loudly over the veranda floor.

"Who's that out there?" said the Major sharply.

"Down, sir, and Maine."

"Oh," said the Major; and then, "Is it any cooler out there?"

"No, sir," said Archie sharply. "I thought it was getting rather warm."

"Is any one else out there?" said the Resident, leaving his chair and stepping through the Malay French window out into the sheltered spot.

"No, sir," said Archie.

"None of the servants within hearing?"

"No, sir."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite, sir," said Archie, as he laid his hand upon one of the creeper-covered supporters of the roof.

"That's better," said Sir Charles; and, followed by the Major, he began to stroll along past the mess-room windows towards where a sentry was on duty, watchful and silent, while Archie and Captain Down turned in another direction.

"You needn't be so precious thin-skinned about hearing what Sir Charles said to the old man. I don't see why it should not be confidence for us, and--Well, what's the matter? Giddy?"

Archie responded by gripping his companion tightly by the wrist, and the two young men stood listening to a faint rustling away to their left, till every sound they could hear came from behind them, where their commander and the Resident were still talking at the end of the veranda in a low tone.

"Hear that?" said Archie.

"Yes. Cat or some prowling thing smelling after the remains of the dinner."

"If it had been anything of that kind we shouldn't have heard its velvet paws."

"Perhaps not. What do you think it was, then? Not a tiger?"

"No; I thought it must be one of the Malay fellows--a listener."

"Not it. What would be the good of his listening to a language he couldn't understand?"

"I don't know," said Archie. "Some of these Malays are very deep.

Hadn't we better say something to the Major?"

"Rubbish! No! Why, if it had been some one lurking about, the sentry would have seen him."

"Yes," said Archie thoughtfully.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

JOE AND THE CROCS.

About an hour after the last conversation Sergeant Ripsy was giving a few final words of command to the little squad of men whom, to use his own words, he was about to plant, as if they were so many vegetables, at different points about the cantonments, in accordance with the strict military rule kept up, just as though they were in an enemy's country and it was a time of war.

Arms were shouldered, and there was a halt made here, and a halt made there; and this was repeated until a sentry had been stationed at six different points, where the guard could have full command of so many muddy elephant-paths leading away into the black jungle, as well as of two well-beaten tracks which commanded the river.

It was at the latter of these that the Sergeant, whose task was ended until the hour came for rounds, paused to say a few words to the sentry, a well-built fellow who looked as upright as the rifle he carried; and before speaking Sergeant Ripsy glanced through the clear, transparent darkness of the night to right and left, up and down what seemed to be a brilliant river of black ink, which rippled as it ran swiftly, and sparkled as if sprinkled with diamonds, from the reflections of the stars; for, strangely enough, the fire-flies, which had been so frequent amongst the overhanging vegetation, had now ceased to scintillate.

"Here, you, Corporal Dart, hold up that lantern. A little higher. Now left; now right. That will do."

The non-com, who knew his Sergeant's motive, had opened the door of the swinging lantern, and flashed it to and fro so that its light fell athwart the stolid countenance of the sentry, who stood up--as rigid as if he had been an effigy cast in bronze.

"You have been drinking again, sir."

"Not a drop, Sergeant," said the man gruffly.

"What's that?" came fiercely.

"Not a drop, Sergeant; nor yesterday nayther."

"Smell him, Corporal."

_Sniff, sniff_, from the Corporal, accompanied by a mild chuckle from the remains of the strong squad.

"Silence in the ranks!" roared the Sergeant.--"Well, Corporal Dart?

Report."

"Onions, Sergeant; not drink."

"Faugh! Lucky for you, Private Smithers, for there's going to be no mercy next time you are caught."

"Well, but, Sergeant, this is now, and it aren't next time."

"Silence! A man who is going on duty must keep his tongue still. Now then, you know the word and what's your duty. Sentry-go until you are relieved. Strict watch up and down the river, for no boat is to land.

If the enemy come, take him prisoner; but you are not to fire without cause."

"Without what, Sergeant?"

"Cause, idiot. Don't you know your own language?"

_Plosh_!

"Oh, there's one of them big scrawlers. Keep your eyes open, and don't go to sleep."

"All right, Sergeant."

"Don't be so handy with that tongue of yours, sir. Listen, and don't talk. Do you know what will happen if you do go to sleep?"