"The Inche Maida need have someone to drill and discipline her men,"
whispered Chumbley to his companion, as, after walking up and down for a
few minutes, they saw the two Malays, whose duty it evidently was to
guard their prison, light their pipes and then stroll away, their course
being for a time indistinctly made out by the faint glow of one of the
bowls.
Mutually regretting that they had not made an attempt to escape sooner,
since they were finding the task so easy, Hilton led the way, going
cautiously step by step upon their blind quest of a path which should
lead them to the river.
That such a path would exist they felt pretty sure, the river being the
great highway of the land; and paths were so few, that they were pretty
certain of its being the right one if they should hit upon a track.
In spite of their efforts, though, first one and then the other leading,
no path was found; and at last, in utter despair, after being driven
back again and again by the density of the jungle, they were compelled
to sit down amongst the bushes edging the forest to wait for day.
It was a grievous disappointment after escaping from the house and
evading the guards. They had hoped to be miles away towards the river
before daybreak, whereas now the chances were that they would hardly
place to their credit a hundred paces even if they avoided the guards.
Day seemed as if it would never come, and yet so persevering had been
their efforts that the first streaks of dawn began to appear in less
than an hour after they had seated themselves in what proved to be a
very fair hiding-place; and almost as they made their first step to
reconnoitre, there was a flash of orange and gold in the sky.
Chumbley pressed his companion's hand, pointing as he did so to what was
evidently the pathway they had sought for; and after a glance round they
were about to step out into the open, and then run as quickly as they
could into the shelter, pushing rapidly on to make the best of their way
into the depths of the jungle.
Hilton gave his companion a glance, and they were about to start off
when a couple of spear-armed Malays took up their position on one side
of the Inche Maida's house, a couple more starting up from beneath a
tree where they had been sleeping, and so near that the officers must
have nearly trodden upon them as they passed.
Had the two young men not sunk down in their hiding-place they must have
been seen, and it was evident now that the Inche Maida's followers
watched a part of the night, after which they lay down to sleep, and
rose again at daybreak to continue their guard.
Regrets were unavailing, and it was as useless to wish themselves back
in their comfortable prison, there to rest till night, when they could
have easily got away with the knowledge they possessed.
Hilton uttered a weary sigh as he lay there trying to devise some means
of escape; and meanwhile the sun rose higher, lighting up the dark
places beyond where they lay, and showing them more and more that the
slightest movement meant being seen and offering themselves as marks to
the Malays' spears.
They exchanged glances and lay perfectly still, with one of the Malays
coming to and fro past them as he kept guard, and so near, that had he
looked in their direction at the right moment, he must have seen them.
A couple of hours had passed away when the outcry that the fugitives had
been expecting arose, the Inche Maida herself giving the alarm and
furiously bidding her people to join pursuit.
Quite twenty well-armed men darted off through the opening into the
jungle, the Princess following them at the end of a few minutes with
half a dozen more of her followers, leaving the palm and bamboo edifice
apparently deserted, and the way free.
"Now is our time, Chum!" whispered Hilton, and cautiously rising, they
began to look for another path--one that would lead them to the water by
a different route.
They ran round the house twice, and then gazed at each other in despair.
There was but one path, which led right to the opening in which the
house was built. All around was impassable jungle; and the only way to
escape was to follow the Inche Maida and her men.
The place was a regular trap, and could have been defended by a few
resolute fellows against hundreds if there was an attack.
"What's to be done, Chum?" said Hilton.
"Go in and hide somewhere, and wait till night."
"With those women to tell the Princess where we have hidden ourselves!"
said Hilton, angrily, pointing to a group of half a dozen women standing
in the doorway and watching their movements.
Chumbley made a few steps as if to go to them, when they scuttled off
like so many rabbits in an English warren; and there were but two
courses open to them--either to follow their would-be pursuers, or to
calmly go back and wait for the Inche Maida's return.
"It will be taking trouble for nothing to go after them," said Chumbley,
wearily. "Let's go back to our room and order the women to bring us
some breakfast."
"What? And give up without making an effort?" cried Hilton. "I'd
sooner die!"
"I wouldn't. But all right," said Chumbley. "I'm with you; but we may
as well be armed."
He ran into the house, and as he expected, had no difficulty in finding
a couple of krisses and spears, one of each of which he handed to his
friend; and then they struck boldly into the jungle, following the path
taken by their enemies hour after hour; and, though momentarily
expecting to hear them returning, continuing their course in the most
uninterrupted way.
It was always the same; a dense wall of verdure to right and left; tall
trees shutting out the sunshine, and the greatest care necessary to keep
from falling into one or other of the great elephant holes.
At last they came upon a place where the pathway forked; and after a
moment's hesitation they chose the path to the right, that to the left
being the one most likely to bring them nearer to their friends, and,
therefore, probably the one their pursuers had taken.
In fact, hardly had they gone a hundred yards down the way they had
chosen, before they heard voices across the jungle, evidently those of
their returning pursuers.
This lent fresh wings to their feet, and they hurried on, finding to
their dismay that the enemy had turned into this path, and were now
following them fast.
It was a race for liberty, perhaps for life; and whither the path led
they could not tell. Whenever they paused for a moment to listen, they
could hear the voices of their pursuers; and at last, panting, streaming
with perspiration, their faces bleeding from contact with thorns, they
glanced at each other, when, by mutual consent, they made another
effort. The path took a turn, and Hilton uttered a cry of joy, for at
the end of a long green tunnel there was the brilliant sunshine upon the
river.
This put new life into them; and racing onward, they reached the water's
edge just as a couple of Malay fishermen were securing their sampan to a
post.
The sight of the weapons, and the threatening words used by the
desperate fugitives, silenced any opposition the fishermen might have
made; and as the two officers sprang aboard, the men loosened the rope,
took their paddles, and the boat was round the bend of the river and out
of sight before the Inche Maida's followers reached the water's edge.
Before night the Residency island was in sight.
Hilton had been very silent for some time, but at last he spoke:
"Chum, old fellow," he said, "I've been thinking about what we are to
say."
"Hilton, old fellow, I've been thinking the very same thing."
"It would be too ridiculous to say that we had been carried off by a
woman."
"We should be roasted to death!" said Chumbley.
"But she ought to be punished."
"Can't go and carry sword and fire into the woman's home because she
took a fancy to you."
"What are we to say, then? I dare not own to this affair!"
"I swear I won't!" said Chumbley.
"Then what is to be done?"
"The only thing seems to me to be that we had better say we were carried
off by the Malays."
"Which is a fact," said Hilton.
"And we were taken to a place that we had never seen before."
"Another fact," said Hilton.
"And kept prisoners."
"Which is another fact."
"I think that's best," said Chumbley. "It would be horrible to go and
take revenge upon this woman."
"But she deserves to be well punished."
"Well, we are punishing her," said Chumbley, "by coming away, and
leaving her in a horrible stew, for she is safe to imagine that we shall
go back with a company, and destroy her place. Besides, she will never
dare to show her face at the settlement again."
"Well, let the matter rest for the present," said Hilton. "Only let us
thank our stars that we have escaped."
"To be sure!" said Chumbley, with a sigh of relief. "Poor woman, I
should not like her to be hurt, she behaved so well; and--Hurrah!
there's Harley! Row, you ruffians--row! There--to that landing-stage!"
Then, as the men, who were in a great state of dread as to whether they
should be allowed to depart, tremblingly placed the boat alongside the
bamboo landing-stage, Hilton sprang out, Chumbley following, after
placing some silver coin in the men's hands, and sending them rejoicing
away.
"What's that?" cried Chumbley, as he caught part of a sentence and the
Resident's hand at the same moment. "Miss Perowne missing?"
"Yes; carried off, I suppose now," said the Resident, between his teeth.
"The same brain must have contrived your absence, though for what I
don't know, unless it was for ransom."
Hilton and Chumbley exchanged glances. "Only one brain here could have
plotted this," cried the Resident, as he mastered the fact of his
friends having been made prisoners in some out-of-the-way place; "and
the brain was that of the doubly-dyed, treacherous scoundrel who has all
along professed to be our friend. I always suspected it: Helen Perowne
is a prisoner in Rajah Murad's hands."