Where Adam Gray had been seated fishing, the bank was about three feet
above the surface of the water, and this clayey bank was either
perpendicular, or so hollowed out beneath by the action of the river,
that if any one had the courage to lower himself into the water, here
about four feet deep, and to cling to the tangled vegetation, and wade
along close to the overhanging bank, he could pass right up to Dullah's
hut unperceived.
There was danger, of course; for the stream ran swiftly, and the
venturesome wader might be swept away. A crocodile, too, might be
lurking beneath the bank; but the business was so important that Gray
resolutely set his face against the idea of danger, telling himself that
it was his duty; and leaving his rod upon the bank, he quietly lowered
himself into the river, the cold water sending a sharp shock through him
as he stood, breast high, holding on by some tangled roots, while the
water pressed against him, with no little force, as it ran.
He paused there for a few minutes listening, half fancying that he had
heard a noise, and that the slight splash he made might have been noted
by Dullah or the men on the sampans; and as he listened, sure enough
there was a dull noise, as of a blow, followed by a little rustling, and
then, just above his head, he could hear somebody breathing hard, as if
after some exertion.
Gray did not stir; and fortunately he was quite concealed by the
overhanging bank, as a Malay, down upon his hands and knees, leaned over
the edge and looked up and down the river.
For the moment Gray felt that he must be seen, and his hand stole
involuntarily towards his breast in search of a weapon; but he was in
utter darkness beneath the bank, and the man's eyes were more directed
outward.
The result was that the Malay, who, kris in hand, had crept cautiously
from Dullah's hut right up through the undergrowth and long grass, to
where he believed the Englishman to be fishing, drew cautiously back,
and crept once more away.
Gray remained motionless for a few moments, and then, convinced that
this meant ill to him, he began to wade cautiously along towards where
the sampans lay in the stream, some thirty yards away.
He moved very slowly, so as to make no plash in the water, which
sometimes, as the river shallowed, came only to his waist, while at
other times it nearly reached his chin; and had he not clung tightly to
the water-washed roots and depending bushes, he must have been swept
away.
Gray had gone about half the distance; and as he neared the sampans,
whose forms he vainly tried to make out in the darkness, to his horror,
he found that something was moving towards him in the water.
Quick as lightning he drew the long keen dirk from his belt, and stood
ready to thrust, for it was either a crocodile or some large animal, he
felt sure; but directly after he stood holding on by his left hand, to a
bunch of tangled root hanging from the bank, and felt his heart seem to
stand still, for, to his surprise, he plainly made out that it was a
man, wading in the opposite direction, and evidently for a similar
purpose to his own.
It was, in fact, one of the Malays from the nearest sampan, who, while a
companion had undertaken to stalk the Englishman from the shore, as he
sat there asleep, had set off from the boat, meaning to get there at the
same time as his friend, but had miscalculated the period it would take.
He was now coming along cautiously, and had nearly reached Gray in the
darkness before he became aware of his presence.
As soon, though, as he made out that it was the Englishman who was
before him, he made a lunge forward, striking at Gray with his kris; but
the latter avoided the blow and prepared to close with his antagonist,
feeling as he took a step back, that the result would probably be death
for both, for they must be swept away by the swift stream.
Just then the Malay seemed to leap at him, but at the same moment he
uttered a smothered cry, which was silenced directly by the rushing
water, and Gray found that he was alone.
He needed no telling that one of the loathsome reptiles of the river had
been close at hand, and had seized his enemy; his wonder was that he
himself had not been the victim.
It was enough to paralyse the bravest heart, and for a few minutes Gray
clung to the roots of the tree beside him, feeling sick and giddy, and
as if some reptile was only waiting for his next movement to drag him
down.
It was fortunate for him that he did not stir, for the Malay's cry had
alarmed his companions, who could be heard talking quickly and in
whispers, close at hand.
At first it seemed to Gray that they were coming to the help of their
unfortunate companion, but this did not prove to be the case. They knew
what had happened, from old experience, and accepted the accident as one
of the misfortunes to which they were heirs, troubling themselves no
more about the matter.
Recovering himself somewhat, but feeling all the time that any moment he
might be seized, Gray crept once more slowly along, till he stood with
the water nearly to his shoulders, beneath the overhanging bank, by
Dullah's hut, and between it and the two sampans.
The place was admirably suited for concealment, for now little more than
his head was above water, and that he had contrived should lie behind a
screen of drooping verdure, which made his chilly hiding-place so dark
that he could not have been seen twelve inches away.
Having escaped from the reptiles so far, he felt more hopeful; and as he
stood there, behind his screen, he began to try and make his position
valuable.
He had not long to wait for this. In less than a minute, a voice, that
he took for Abdullah's, was whispering to some one on the river, and a
sampan came so close in to the bank that had he stretched out his hand
he could have touched the side.
It was a grief to him that he was not thoroughly conversant with the
Malay tongue, but he had picked up a good deal, and had mastered a
sufficiency to catch the import of the words he heard.
The principal was an order that the _orang_ should come ashore, the
order being given by Dullah.
What was the _orang_?
He puzzled for a few moments, as the sampan pushed off. _Orang-outang_!
Was this after all a trading visit, and they were going to bring some
great monkey ashore.
_Orang-outang_--man of the woods, of course. _Orang_ meant man or men,
and the men were to land. There was danger then, and men were to land.
That was enough, and now he would go and give warning; but he could not
move without being heard, and he had to remain listening, as there was
the faint beat of oars, and then, though he could hardly see them, two
long row-boats of great size seemed to come up out of the darkness, and
he felt more than saw that they were full of men.
What was the sentry about? There was one so near that he ought to have
seen or heard their coming, and Gray listened eagerly for the report of
his piece giving the alarm.
But no report came, for the sentry had not heard. He had not been
krissed, but as far as giving alarm was concerned he might have been
dead; for the sentry close at hand was Private Sim, and he was fast
asleep.