Five minutes, ten minutes, a quarter of an hour passed, and neither of
the boys spoke. No sound came from the house, no splashing of the water
told that their guide was on his way back.
All at once a shout reached them, followed by another cry, the noise of
a struggle succeeded by a splash. Then another splash, and while, with
their nerves all on the strain, they listened trembling with excitement,
there was another faint gurgling cry; but, instead of being from the
direction in which their rescuer had gone, it was close to them in the
river, and ceased at once, to be heard again more faintly lower down.
"Oh, Ned," whispered Frank, passionately, "that was poor old Hamet.
They've krissed him, and thrown him in the river."
"Can't we help him?" panted Ned, knowing as he spoke that they were only
vain words.
"No--no--no," groaned Frank. "And hark! They're coming after us."
For there were shouts, and quite close at hand the glow of torches
dimly-seen above the trees, while as the boys strained their eyes in the
direction, Ned jerked Frank's arm.
"Hark!" he whispered; "some one's crawling along the path. Can't we
run?"
"Can't we fly?" said Frank, bitterly. "It's all over."
"Hist! quick!" came from the water; "get in."
There was the sound of wood brushing against the bushes, and a dark
object rose in front of them.
"The boat!" said Frank, excitedly. "Hurrah! In with you, Ned."
The latter needed no second admonition, but sprang in against the man
who was holding on by the boughs, and as the boy stumbled and fell,
Frank followed.
It was none too soon, for there was a sharp rustling behind them,
something dark sprang right after them, and another black figure, which
had struggled through the tunnel-like passage, rose up; but the boat was
loosened, their rescuer struck out fiercely, and the man who had tried
to leap on board fell back into the water with a splash, and they heard
him dragging himself out just as there was a peculiar thud close to
where Ned stood.
"What was that?" he whispered.
"Spear," said the man, laconically; and they heard him drag the weapon
out of the thwart into which it had stuck.
The shouting continued, and it was as if two parties were answering one
another; but the sounds grew more distant, and Ned realised that they
were gliding down the stream.
"They'll come after us in another boat," panted Ned.
"No. No boat," said the man.
"Oh, Hamet, old chap," whispered Frank, "we thought they had krissed
you, and that we heard you go down the river."
"No," said the man, quietly. "Two men keeping boat. Not hurt."
Ned felt a strange shrinking sensation, and his imagination supplied the
facts of the case, as he mentally saw their friend wade in the darkness
up to where this boat had been moored, and attack its guardians. He
shuddered, and dared think no more, but, happily, Frank began whispering
to him just then.
"This is one of the little nagas," he said. "I know it. The men used
it to take us up the river. They did not know it would be all right for
us to escape. I say, Hamet, how far is it down to the rajah's campong?"
"Don't know," said the man quietly, using an oar so as to get the boat's
head down stream, and farther from the bank, where the fireflies were
still flitting at intervals.
"Well, we shall float down to it. We needn't speak low now?"
"No; only a little," replied the man.
"I say, you were a good one to come and help us. But, I say, you did
not kill any one, did you?"
"They tried to kill Hamet," he replied, quietly.
"Oh, Ned!" whispered Frank, with a shudder, "I shall never wear that
kris again."
They glided on down in silence for some time before either of the boys
spoke again, and then Ned said in a low voice:
"They seized you too, Hamet?"
"Yes, master, and brought us up the river here. I said to myself, `I
will save the young masters,' and they are here."
"But what is to be done now?"
"Go down in the dark to my lord, and say here is a boat waiting. Shall
we go back to Dindong?"
"But we could not, Hamet," said Frank. "The rajah's people would hear
us, and stop us."
"Perhaps," said the man, quietly. "Heaven knows: but we will try."
"Yes," said Frank, "we will try, unless my father thinks we ought all to
stop, and he could bully the rajah. But we will see."
"Yes, we will see," replied Hamet; and there was silence once more for a
time, but Ned was too much excited to remain quiet long.
"Are you sure," he said, "that they cannot follow us on shore though
they have no boat?"
"Quite sure," said Frank. "They are on the wrong side of the river, and
they could not cut a way through the jungle for days and days. I don't
know how far we are up either. Perhaps miles and miles, and they were
rowing and poling up all night."
Silence once more fell upon the party, and the boys sat watching the
dark wall of trees on either side and listening to the forest sounds,
all of which seemed strange and impressive at such a time. Now and then
the oar creaked with which Hamet kept the boat's head right, and several
times now the boys shrank from the side as there was a sudden swirl and
rush through the water, evidently caused by a crocodile disturbed by the
passing boat. Then, too, came the cry of a tiger, distant or near, and
other peculiar calls from deep in the jungle, sounds that they would
hardly have noticed by day, but which were peculiarly impressive now.
And so the time wore on, till, just as Ned was asking if his companion
did not think they must be near the campong now, Hamet said in a low
voice:
"Don't talk. Words fly along the water. Be heard."
"Then we must be near now?" whispered Ned.
"Yes," replied Frank. "I say, Hamet, keep a good look-out for the
prahus, and run her in by the tree where the crocodile was caught. It
will be quite black under those boughs."
"Pst!" whispered Hamet, and he ceased dipping his oar in the water, for
suddenly a faint light appeared ahead of them not larger than that
emitted by a firefly, but the regular beat of oars told that it was in
some boat, and unless prompt measures were taken, it was evident that
they would be seen, and the efforts of the night thrown away.