WHAT HARRY HEARD
No more was heard of the tiger, but the boys laughed and talked about
it together, for they could not help enjoying the ill-luck which had
attended those who went in its chase.
"I know how it is," said Harry, with mock seriousness; "the tiger
heard who was coming to shoot him, and he went, off to wait until
Prince Phra had grown up old enough to go tiger-hunting in proper
style."
"Yes, that's it," said Phra drily. "But you may as well say how you
know. The tiger came and told you, I suppose."
"Oh, never mind that," said Harry. "I wish you wouldn't talk about it.
I say, when's that chest coming from London?"
"Don't know; some day," said Phra.
It was pretty well on to half a year from the time of the order being
given to the day when the big chest was delivered at the palace, being
brought up by one of the royal barges, with its many rowers in scarlet
jackets, from the vessel lying at the mouth of the river, right up to
the stone landing-place in front of the palace, from which it was
borne, attached to a couple of great bamboos, by a dozen men, preceded
and followed by guards bearing spears.
"Such a jolly fuss," said Harry, frowning. "Why, you and I could have
each taken hold of an end and carried it up to our house and opened it
there."
"Well, no," said Phra; "you see, it is my father's, and he is King,
and it is only proper for the box to be brought up like this."
"Is it?" said Harry contemptuously. "All right, only I thought the box
was for us."
"So it is," said Phra; "but father has not given it to us yet."
"Oh, all right, only it does seem so stupid; and if a lot of English
boys could see, I daresay they'd laugh like fun."
"If one of them laughed at my father he'd repent it," said Phra hotly.
"Tchah! They wouldn't laugh at your father. I should like to catch 'em
at it! I should have something to say then."
Phra caught his friend warmly by the arm, and his eyes brightened.
"They might, though," said Harry solemnly, "if they saw him sitting
under that big umbrella, with his silk padung on, looking like an old
woman in a petticoat."
"That he doesn't," said Phra warmly; "and I'm sure a padung is a much
more comfortable thing out here in a hot country than a pair of
trousers."
"Oh, I don't know," said Harry; "but it is jolly hot."
"You don't know, because you have only put one on just for fun; but I
often feel disposed to give up wearing trousers, and to go back to a
padung again."
"What, go back to being a barbarian?" cried Harry. "You ought to be
ashamed of yourself."
"Well, I'm not," said Phra warmly. "It's much cooler, and more
pleasant."
"Oh, you savage! You'd better say it's cooler to go without anything
at all."
"So it is--in the shade," replied Phra.
"Well, I am!" cried Harry. "After all the trouble father, Dr. Cameron,
and your most humble and obedient servant have taken to make a
civilized being of you, to talk like that!"
"Civilized being! pooh! I should have been a civilized being without
your help."
"Not you. To begin with, you wouldn't have worn trousers, and wearing
trousers means everything. A man who wears trousers stands at the very
top of civilization. A man who doesn't wear them is a savage."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Phra. "I should like Mr. Cameron to hear you say
that he was a savage."
"Who ever would say so? Mr. Cameron is--is--well, he's a tip-topper in
everything."
"But he doesn't wear trousers when he goes with us shooting. He always
wears his war petticoat then."
"Wears his what?" cried Harry wonderingly.
"That grey fighting petticoat. His kill it."
"Kill it? Kilt!" cried Harry. "Oh, what a rum chap you are sometimes,
Phra! But that's only the old savage dress of the Highlanders. Hardly
anybody but soldiers wears that now."
"Kill--kill it--kilt," said Phra thoughtfully. "What had you got to
laugh at? Why, it does mean a war petticoat."
"All right; have it your own way," said Harry, who was watching the
last of the guard following the box into the courtyard.
"But I don't want to have it my own way if I'm wrong," said Phra. "I
want to be right."
"Very well. You are wrong there, lad."
"Why do they call it a kilt, then?" said Phra.
"Because it is a kilt, I suppose. Because--because--there, I don't
know. We'll ask the doctor. But, I say, I didn't mean any harm about
laughing at the King. I wouldn't, and I wouldn't let any one else
laugh at him. He's such a good old chap; but he does look rum
sometimes."
"Well, I know that," said Phra hurriedly. "And I don't like it, Hal,
and I wish he would do as English gentlemen do; but he can't
altogether."
"Why?"
"Because he's king, and the people wouldn't like it. The priests don't
like a great deal that he does now, and they talk about it to the
common people. They make them believe that my father is fighting
against them and doing them harm."
"If I were your father, and they talked against me, I'd pitch them all
into the river."
"No, you wouldn't, Hal. But hadn't we better go up to the door and see
the chest opened?"
"Yes, come on," cried Harry eagerly, and they followed the guard,
going by sentries armed with spear and kris, who smiled solemnly at
the two boys, and made way for them with every show of respect.
They crossed the courtyard, which partook more of the nature of a
garden, and looked particularly attractive, with its quaint,
highly-pitched, gable-ended buildings around. But Harry had seen the
place too often to pay any heed to the beautiful architecture, and he
was all eyes for a little procession issuing from the principal
doorway, consisting of the King, a quiet, grave-looking, grey-haired
man, in silken jacket and sarong, and a number of his chief men, while
the royal umbrella was held over his head.
The chest, one of ordinary deal, nailed down, strengthened with a
couple of bands of hoop-iron, and directed in painted black letters,
had been placed in front of the entrance, and ten spearmen stood in a
row on each side, when the two boys, in obedience to a sign from the
King, went up, each receiving a smile and a nod.
"Here is the new present," he said, smiling. "Take it, and see if
everything is as you wished it to be; and I hope it will give you both
much pleasure."
He spoke in very good English, and smilingly accepted the boys'
thanks, before gravely turning and going back in procession to the
main entrance to the palace; while, as soon as they were alone, Phra
sent one of the guards to fetch a couple of artificers to bring
hammers and chisels to open the chest.
"I don't believe a box ever had so much fuss made over it before,"
said Harry, laughing. "The things ought to be all right. I say, Phra,
I hope nothing's broken."
"Oh, don't say that!"
"The big clock that came from England was. They're wretches, those
sailors, for pitching packages about on board ship."
"They ought not to be allowed to be so rough," replied Phra. "My
father would not permit them to be careless."
"Ah, but your father's one of the kings of Siam. We English people
aren't allowed to slice people's heads off because they do as they
like. I say, though, suppose they're burst."
"Burst! oh, I say, don't," cried Phra. "I've been looking forward to
these things coming, so that we could play English games, and it would
be horrible if we had to wait another six months."
"Perhaps they'll be all right," said Harry, in consolatory tones; "but
that corner of the box has had a great bang, and the lid's split in
two places, just as if it had been thrown down on the stones of a
wharf."
"It says, 'With care. Keep this side up,'" said Phra.
"Oh yes; that's why they knock it about so, I suppose," replied Harry,
laughing. "The sailors know their heads won't be chopped off."
"Here are the men," said Phra, as a couple of workmen came up,
prostrated themselves, and then cleverly attacked the nails in the
box, clumsy-looking as their tools were, removing the iron bands,
wrenching up the lid and taking it off, while the guards and
attendants stood stolidly looking on.
The removal of the lid revealed a quantity of paper shavings packed
round sundry brown paper parcels, while one end of the chest was
occupied by half a dozen pasteboard boxes, one of which was
immediately opened, to reveal the neatly-sewn and laced leather cover
of a football.
"What's that for?" said Phra. "Yes, I know; a football."
"Yes. You have first kick. I'll throw it down, and you run and kick
it, just as you saw in our book of sports."
"I could not with the guard looking on," said Phra.
"I could," said Harry. "English fellows can do anything. Here goes."
He threw the ball down heavily, making it rebound, and then as it
repeated its rebounds he rushed at it, and, although he had never done
such a thing before, gave it a flying kick which sent it high in the
air, but only to come down and bounce into the fountain basin in the
middle of the courtyard.
"Wonderful!" the spectators seemed to say, as they looked solemnly at
one another.
"Oh, I didn't mean that," cried Harry, rushing after the ball,
followed by his companion, who walked sedately up just as Harry had
shouted to one of the guard to come.
"Here," he said in Siamese, "fish out that ball."
The man smiled, reached out over the basin, and in another moment
would have transfixed the football on his keenly-pointed lance.
But Harry was too quick for him, and gave the lance shaft a thrust.
"Not like that," he cried; "you'd kill it--let all its wind out. This
way."
He showed the man how to guide the ball to the side with his spear,
and then picked it up all dripping, to place it in the sun to dry.
"I say, Phra," he said, as he paused to wipe his wet face; "I'm afraid
football's going to be rather a hot game out here."
"The book said it was played in winter," said Phra.
"Yes, but then we haven't got any winter here, so we must play it any
time we can. But it is going to be rather a warm sort of game. Never
mind; we've got the balls--six of them."
"But you don't want six."
"Yes, you do," cried Harry. "Some will burst; some will get kicked
over into some one else's place and lost perhaps. But I say, we must
learn to play, as we have got the balls."
"Come and finish opening the box," said Phra.
"'Tis opened. Why don't you say unpacking?"
"Because I am not so full of English as you are," replied Phra, with a
sigh; and they bent over the chest and went on taking out its
treasures: bats, stumps, bails, pads and gloves, all carefully done up
in brown paper, while a whole dozen of best cricket balls were in as
many little boxes.
"Seem to be making a pretty good mess with all these shavings," said
Harry, raising himself up with a sigh of relief that the box was at
last emptied.
"The people shall clear all away soon," replied Phra, glancing at the
stolid-looking guards, who were gazing wonderingly at the new form of
war club with handle bound with black string, and at the short,
sharp-pointed spears which seemed to be a clumsy kind of javelin. "But
this cricket seems as if it would be a very hot game to play."
"Oh, I don't know," said Harry carelessly. "Of course I've never
played, but I know all about it. If you come to that, so do you."
"Yes," said Phra thoughtfully, "but I'm afraid I shall not like a game
where one has to get so many runs. It will be terribly hot work."
"But you only get a great many runs if you can."
"Then it will be much cooler and pleasanter if you can't get any,"
said Phra. "I say, Harry, couldn't we alter the game?"
"I don't know. I daresay we could."
"Let's do the batting ourselves, and make the people bowl and run
after the balls."
"And always be in?" said Harry. "Well, that wouldn't be bad. But I
say, where are we to play?"
"I should like it to be right away somewhere," said Phra. "It would
not be pleasant for us to be running and tearing about with our people
looking on and making remarks about our getting so hot."
"Never mind about the cricket to-day," said Harry. "You want a lot of
fellows to play that--twenty besides ourselves; but we could have a
game of football."
"Very well; let's play football, then. I'll have all these things
taken into my room. Only let's get right away. I don't care about
playing here."
"Why not? It will be a capital place if we take care not to kick the
ball into the fountain."
"I don't like playing here, with all the men looking on. It seems so
silly to be running after a ball and kicking it, as if you were cross
with it for being on the ground."
"I never thought of that," said Harry. "But let's see: why do we kick
it? I wish we'd been the same as other boys."
"Well, so we are, only you were born in India, and I was born here."
"I don't mean that," cried Harry. "I mean the same as other English
boys are. They go to big schools where they learn all sorts of games
when they're half as big as we are. But let's see; we want to know why
everything is. Why do we kick the football?"
"To make it bounce, of course."
"That isn't all. We kick it to make it fly through the air."
"For exercise," said Phra.
"That's something to do with it, I suppose; but there's something
else. It's to try who's best man. Don't you see?"
"No," said Phra; "I only know that we've got to learn to play football
and cricket."
"Never mind about cricket now; let's get to play football first."
"But we don't know anything about it," said Phra, "and it seems so
stupid. Let's ask Mr. Cameron to show us how."
"That we just won't," cried Harry. "He'd only laugh at us. 'What!'
he'd say, 'don't know how to play football? Why, I thought every boy
could play that.'"
"I don't like to be laughed at," said Phra.
"Of course you don't. I don't either. That's the worse of people too.
Just because they know something that you don't know, they think
themselves so awfully clever, and laugh at you because you don't know
the same as they do."
"Well, how do we play? Do you know?"
"I know something about it. You make sides, because it's going to be a
fight."
"Then it's a cowardly game," cried Phra.
"Why?" said Harry in astonishment.
"Because in a fight you ought to use your fists; you taught me so; and
this is all kicking."
"Oh, what a chap you are, Phra! If I didn't know what a
straightforward one you were, I should think you were making fun.
Can't you see this is not a fighting fight, but a fight in fun--to see
who's to get the best of it?"
"So's a fighting fight," said Phra.
"Yes, but this is play. There ought to be a lot of fellows on each
side, but I don't see why two can't have a game. I'm sure they'll get
more kicking. Now we're going to play; I'm against you, and you're
against me."
"I see; I'm against you, and you're against me. Well?"
"We begin out in the middle of a place, with the ball between us. I've
got to kick it to the hedge on your side, and you've got to prevent
me. You've got to kick it to the hedge on my side, and I've got to
prevent you. That's easy enough to understand, isn't it?"
"Oh yes, I understand that; but I shan't play here."
"Why?"
"Because we're sure to fall out over it and fight, and I don't want
our guards to see me and you fighting."
"Oh, we shouldn't be so stupid."
"I don't know whether it's stupid, but I know how you are when you get
hurt a bit, Hal. No, I shan't play here."
"Very well, come on home with me. There's plenty of room at the bottom
of the garden, and there'll be no one to see us there except Mike, and
I'll take care he is sent somewhere else."
"That will do," said Phra. "How many balls shall we want?"
"Only one, of course."
"Why not have two?" said Phra. "One apiece; then we shouldn't fall
out."
"And we shouldn't be playing at football. This ball will do. Come on."
Phra made no further opposition, but he hazarded the remark that it
was rather hot to play.
"Yes, this is the hottest place I was ever in," said Harry. "There
couldn't be any place hotter. But come along; English boys don't study
about its being hot or cold when they want to do anything. I'm glad
Doctor Cameron is nowhere near. He'd be interfering and dictating
about the game directly. That's the worst of him, he knows so much. It
will be much nicer for us to learn how to play well before he sees us
at it, and then we shall know as much as he does."
The boys trudged off, with the sun shining down upon them as it can
shine down in Siam. It was somewhere about a hundred degrees
Fahrenheit in the shade, and it may readily be set down as being a
hundred and twenty in the sun; so that Harry was quite right in his
remarks about Dr. Cameron, for if he had been present he most
assuredly would have interfered to the extent of making them put the
football away, and ordering them into the shade.
But there was no one to interfere, as they trudged on, and entered by
the gate of the bungalow, finding all very quiet till they got around
to the back, where a peculiar noise came through the open jalousies of
one window, making Harry step forward on tip-toe till he could look
in.
This done, he stepped cautiously back to his companion.
"Only Mike," he whispered. "Lying on his back fast asleep, and snoring
like a young thunderstorm in the distance. Come along; we shall have
it all to ourselves."
"Where's your father?"
"Gone down to the port in a boat, to see the captain of one of the
ships."
Five minutes later they were in a good-sized field, well hedged in
with native growth, and displaying a very respectable lawn-like
greensward, one which had cost Mr. Kenyon years of trouble to get
something like an English meadow.
It was a capital place, and having settled which were to be the
goals--though Harry did not call them so--they walked into the middle
of the enclosure to make a start.
"Now," said Harry, "of course we don't know exactly how to begin,
but--"
"Why didn't we read what it said in the book?" said Phra.
"What book?"
"The one that came in the chest."
"I didn't see any book in the chest."
"I did: _The Book of Games_; it was at the top, wrapped up in paper,
and I sent it into my room so as to be safe."
"Well, you are a fellow!" cried Harry. "Never mind; we'll read all
through it to-night. Let's begin our way to-day. There lies the ball,
and we must start fair. I'll say one--two--three, and away! and then
we must kick."
The boys stood face to face with the ball between them, and so close
that their toes nearly touched it.
"Ready?" said Harry.
"Yes."
"Then one--two--three--and away!"
Phra was quick as lightning almost, and at the word away! he kicked at
the ball; but Harry, instead of kicking, thrust it a little on one
side so as to get a kick to himself, and he got it, right on the shin.
"Oh!" he cried, beginning to hop on one leg, while Phra sent the ball
flying towards his goal, and ran after it at full speed.
"Hi! stop! stop! stop!" shouted Harry.
But Phra was too much excited to halt. He was finding a certain amount
of satisfaction in delivering kick after kick to the yielding ball,
which, in spite of a long voyage, proved to be wonderfully elastic,
and flew here, there, and everywhere, except in the direction of the
goal. For Phra's kicks were wanting in experience. He kicked too high,
or too low, or out of centre; and the consequence was that he had a
great deal of exercise, before a final kick sent the ball up to the
hedge which formed one goal.
He turned round now, streaming with perspiration and flushed with
triumph, to find that Harry had been limping and panting after him, to
come up now, hot and angry.
"I've won," cried Phra. "What a capital game!"
"You've won!" grumbled Harry. "Of course you have. Any one could win
who didn't play fair. But it wasn't playing."
"Why, what's the matter?" said Phra, staring.
"You know; you kicked me instead of the ball, and crippled me so that
I couldn't try."
"I'm so sorry, Hal. Ought you to have been kicking too?"
"Yes, and I wish I had--I wish I had kicked you at the beginning as
you did me."
"But that was an accident," said Phra earnestly.
"It hurt just as much as if you had done it on purpose."
"Never mind," cried Phra; "let's begin again. I didn't understand the
game. But, I say; it's splendid fun."
"Oh, is it?" said Hal, sitting down to rub his tender shin.
"Yes, splendid. When you kick the ball it flies off so beautifully.
You seem obliged to run after it."
"Yes," said Harry sarcastically, "and then I was obliged to run after
you. Why didn't you kick it my way?" he added fiercely.
"I couldn't," replied Phra innocently. "That's the funny part of it,
and I suppose the ball's made so on purpose. It never went the way I
kicked it, but flew to all sorts of places. But I say, it's glorious
fun running after it for the next kick."
"Oh, is it?" sneered Harry; for if the skin was not off his shin, it
certainly seemed to be off his temper.
"Yes, come on, and let's begin again."
"Shan't," said Harry sourly; "it's too hot."
"Oh, nonsense; you don't feel it when you're at play."
"Play! I don't call it play," cried Harry angrily. "I call it being a
pig and trying to have everything to yourself."
"Oh, I say, don't talk like that, Hal! I didn't know I was doing
wrong. There, I apologise. I won't do it again. Come along."
"No, I'm not going to try now. It's a fool of a game, and all
one-sided."
"Well, never mind; you'll have the right side sometimes. Let's start
off again. I know you'll like it."
"No, I'm not going to play any more," grumbled Harry. "I wish the old
ball was burst."
"You are in a temper," said Phra quietly. "I'm sorry I hurt you. Here,
have a kick, Hal."
"Shan't; I'm too hot and tired."
"Rest a bit, then," said Phra. "I say, what queer people the English
are to have invented a game like that! They must look so comic."
"What!" cried Harry indignantly. "Well, I do like that! Who looks
comic, playing at shuttlecock and kicking it up in the air, and
sending it back with the knees, elbows, or shoulders? I've seen some
of the men knock the great shuttlecock up with their necks or chins.
Now, that does look stupid."
Phra's eyelids contracted a little, and there was a frown upon his
brow for a few moments.
It passed off then, and he brightened up, just when a few angry words
would have caused an open rupture.
"Come and have a try, Hal, old chap," he said. "Sorry I hurt you," and
he held out his hand.
This was too much for Harry, whose irritation was passing off with the
pain. Jumping up quickly, he made a snatch at the ball, sent it
flying, dashed after it, and delivered a tremendous kick, intending to
send it right across the field.
But it did nothing of the kind, for the kick proved to be a regular
sky-flyer, the ball taking an almost perpendicular course. Harry was
lying in wait for it as it came down, ready to kick again; but Phra
was coming, and unintentionally proved that two legs are much better
for stability than one.
Of course every one knows this, and takes it for granted, just as most
of us know some of the problems of Euclid, and could take the theory
there set out for granted. But the old Greek philosopher proves them
all, and Phra proved our theory by giving Harry a sharp push just as
one leg was raised, sending him over like a single ninepin, and
securing the ball once more, racing away, laughing heartily the while.
"Oh!" ejaculated Harry; "and him only a nigger! He shan't beat me like
this."
He rushed off, with his temper coming back, in full chase of Phra, who
ran on, kicking the ball, and roaring with laughter the while, till
just as he was about to finish off with a tremendous kick, one which
would secure a goal if it went straight, Harry came on with a rush,
sent him flying instead of the ball, turned, and enjoyed a capital
series of kicks before he was overtaken in turn.
Phra tried to put the same tactics into force, bounding right at
Harry, who was just on the point of kicking home, when a thrust sent
him over, and while still under the impetus of his run, Phra delivered
the kick instead, a kick which proved to be the most direct that had
been given, for the ball landed close to Harry's hedge, bounced, and
went right home.
"There," cried Phra, flushed with victory; "I've won again."
Then he stared, for Harry threw himself down, panting and roaring with
laughter.
"What are you laughing at?" cried his adversary. "That makes two games
I've won."
"No," cried Harry, wiping his eyes; "this one's mine."
"Nonsense! I kicked the ball."
"Yes, but into my goal."
"No; it's mine. I kicked the ball there."
"By mistake; for me."
"Oh, what a stupid game!" cried Phra pettishly. "Phew! how hot I am! I
don't want to play any more at a game like that."
And now, with the excitement at an end, both found that playing
football in their fashion under such a sun was an exercise of which a
very little went a long way.
They stretched themselves out on the ground, with the ball lying hard
by getting warm.
"Oh, I say, it's too hot to stop here; come and lie in the shade,"
cried Harry. "Let's go indoors."
They went back, passed through the verandah, and entered the
dining-room.
It was as hot there, a heavy, stagnant heat; but there was a basket of
oranges upon the table.
"These'll be better than water to drink," said Harry, rolling four
across the table to his companion, and pocketing as many for his own
use.
"But we can't stop here," said Phra; "it's too hot to breathe."
"I know; let's go and lie down on the floor at the landing-place."
"Yes, that will do," replied Phra, and a few minutes later the boys
were extended upon their backs upon the bamboos, shaded by the
palm-leaf roofing, and feeling a faint breath of warm air come up from
the surface of the river, just as if it had floated up from the sea.
Here, as they lay, the boys peeled their oranges and threw the yellow
rind into the river, where, whenever the white side fell downward,
there was a loud splash made by a fish, which dashed at it and left it
again as not good enough for food.
The oranges were not good--they were small and pithy, as if the sun
had dried all the juice out of them; but they were the best the boys
could obtain, and they were eaten in silence, neither feeling disposed
to talk; and then the natural thing occurred to two boys hot and tired
upon a torrid day when there was a sleepy hum in the air in and out
beneath the shade in which they lay.
Five minutes after the last orange was eaten, a heavy breathing could
be heard.
"Asleep, Phra?" said Harry softly.
A repetition of the breathing was the reply, and Harry lay with his
hands clasped under the back of his head, gazing up at the palm
thatch, where all looked softly light, though it was in the shade, the
reason being that the sunshine was reflected from the surface of the
water and played in a peculiar, mazy way upon the inner part of the
roof, as if a golden net were covering the palm leaves and being kept
in continuous motion.
There was a good deal to be seen up there: flies were darting about,
and often faring badly, for every now and then a lizard ran along,
looking like a miniature crocodile, the sunny reflections in full
motion resembling the water.
The dart of one of these lizards upon an unfortunate fly was too quick
for the eye to follow. One minute the curious little creature in its
glistening armour would be creeping up to within a few inches of a fly
busy at work brushing its head and wings with a care and nicety that
suggested great pride in its personal appearance; the next moment
there would be what seemed to be a faint streak upon the palm thatch,
and the lizard would be where the fly was preening itself, but the fly
was gone, and it had not been seen to fly away. It was there still,
but securely enclosed, and ready to be transmuted into food.
"They are quick," thought Harry; but his attention was taken off the
lizards to the action of something gliding along among the loose
leaves of the thatch--something long and pale green and grey. It
seemed to be so insecurely placed that it appeared to be on the point
of falling, and if it had dropped it must have been upon the sleeping
figure of Phra. But somehow it held on by means of the long plates or
scales at the lower part of its body in one or two places, while the
rest hung in limp, unsupported folds.
It was very interesting to follow the sinuous movements of this snake,
a gracefully thin creature of about four feet long; and over and over
again Harry laughed to himself, thinking how Phra would jump when he
felt the thin, twining reptile drop upon him; but there was no fear of
its falling, for it had the instinct of self-preservation strong
within its fragile body, and it always appeared to be holding on
tightly by one part, while the other was gliding forward seeking a
fresh hold.
It was nothing new to the watcher, for Harry had seen snakes of this
kind often, both living and dead, and his father had pointed out to
him that it was of a perfectly harmless description, the head being
softly elliptical and gently graduated off in its junction with the
long, thin neck, showing no sudden swellings out caused by the
possession of poison glands, which give to the dangerous little
serpents the peculiar spade-shaped or triangular head with the corners
bluntly rounded off.
As Harry lay watching the snake, he fully expected to see it dart its
head at some of the flies buzzing about, but it went on its way
quietly investigating, for it was in search of more juicy morsels than
flies, its instinct having taught it that the palm thatch of such a
roof as that in which it searched was exceedingly likely to contain
the nest of some mouse or hole-loving bird, one of the little
wren-like creatures whose fat, featherless young would form delicious
morsels for a creature whose teeth were implements for holding on and
not for masticating its prey.
In those days the American humourist was not born, or, as he did,
Harry might have lain there and wondered in connection with their food
and the great length of neck whether it tasted "good all the way
down." But naturally, as he had not read the lines, he thought nothing
of the kind. In fact, he paid no more heed to the little snake beyond
thinking of what a number of different things there were living in
that thatched edifice; for all at once there was a low, deep, humming
buzz, a flash as of burnished copper, and a thick, squat beetle flew
in beneath the roof, lit on one of the bamboo rafters, and began to
fold up its gauzy wings perfectly neatly, shutting them up beneath
their cases, into which they fitted so closely, that when all was shut
up there was no sign of opening, and a casual observer would never
have imagined that such a short, stumpy, armour-clad, horny creature,
all spikes and corners about the legs, could fly.
That beetle took up a great deal of Harry's attention, for all was so
still that when it crawled up into the thatching, holding on by its
hooked legs, the rustle and scratching could be plainly heard. But at
last the sound seemed to be distant, while, strangely enough, the
beetle gradually appeared as if it were swelling out to a gigantic
size, but grew hazy and undefined, and was apparently about to die out
as if into mist, when Harry started and saw that it was just the
rounded, stumpy, coppery green insect again, and he knew that he had
been asleep and was startled into wakefulness by some sound close at
hand.
Voices, and then the rippling of water, and as he lay perfectly still
upon his back he knew that a boat was coming abreast of the
landing-place and a man was talking in a haughty, contemptuous way, as
if in answer to some question that had been asked.
"That Feringhee dog the King favours; he was the beginning of the
swarm that invaded the country."
"Never mind," said another voice; "don't be angry: it will soon come
to an end."
"The sooner the better. I am sick of all this. A mad king makes mad
people who will not sit still and see their country ruined by his
follies. What whim will he have next?"
"Who knows? There is always some case or another coming by one of the
unbelievers' ships. I believe they send their diseases and sicknesses
here to kill our people, so that they may come and take the country.
It is all wrong. What a beautiful place that man has here!"
"Hist! don't talk."
"Why not? I do not mind who hears. I would say what I do even before
our foolish king."
"Be silent; there are people lying asleep on that landing-place, and
they might hear."
One of them did hear--plainly enough, for in still weather water has a
wonderful power for conveying sounds along its surface. These words
were spoken in the native dialect, but every word was clear to the
involuntary listener, for the language was almost as familiar to Harry
as his own.
The words jarred upon him. What did they mean? The speakers from their
tone were evidently people who hated the English colonists, and an
intense desire to see whether they were people whom he knew animated
the boy with the disposition to start up and look. But on second
thoughts he felt that it might be better for them if they appeared to
be asleep, especially as Phra was the King's son.
But once more the desire to see who it was grew strong in Harry's
breast, and as the light splashing of the oars grew less plain he
slowly turned his head till he could open one eye and gaze over the
surface of the river.
He was too late; there was nothing in sight but the boats moored to
the farther bank.
"I could see them from the far end of the garden, though," he thought;
and rolling himself gently over three or four times, so as not to
awaken Phra, he reached the bridge-like way off the stage into the
garden, where he rose to his feet and keeping in shelter of the
flowering shrubs which had been abundantly planted, he made for the
corner of the garden higher up the stream, for the slow progress of
the boat in passing showed that the people, whoever they were, had
gone in that direction.
Harry had little difficulty in getting to the boundary of his father's
grounds, keeping well under cover, though it was hot work hurrying
along in a stooping position. But when he raised his head cautiously
and peered over the river, the result was disappointing.
There was the boat certainly, going on against tide, propelled by a
couple of stout rowers; and it was evidently the boat of some one well
to do, for the rowers were dressed alike. As to the occupants of the
central part beneath the awning, they were partly hidden by the
uprights which supported the light roof shelter, and their backs were
towards him. They were richly dressed, but though the boy watched till
the boat passed out of sight beyond a curve they did not turn their
heads once.
Harry returned to the landing-stage, feeling troubled and thoughtful.
He was asking himself whether he should tell Phra what he had heard,
and a feeling of shrinking from making his companion uncomfortable had
almost fixed him in his determination to say nothing until he had told
his father.
But Phra's action altered all this.
For just as he was about to set foot upon the stage, Phra leaped up
and began to rub his ear frantically.
"What did you do that for?" he cried fiercely.
"Do what?" said Harry, laughing at the boy's antics.
"You put that nasty little beetle in my ear."
"I didn't," cried Harry, bursting into a roar of laughter.
"Yes, you did. There it is," cried Phra angrily, as he stamped upon
and crushed a little round insect about the size of the smaller
lady-bird. "Tickle, tickle, tickle! Why, if I hadn't woke up, the
horrible little creature might have eaten its way into my brains, and
killed me."
"Nonsense! nothing would do that."
"Well, you had no business to play such silly boys' tricks. It's
enough to make me hit you. Yes, you can laugh at me; but if I were
regularly angry, you would be ready to run."
"Run away?" said Harry merrily.
"Yes, run away."
"Oh yes, and never come back again. You frighten me horribly."
"You're mocking at me, but I tell you it was very cowardly and
stupid."
"No, it was not; for I did not do it, my boy."
"What? why, I woke up and caught you just as you were going to run
away."
"No, I was coming back."
"Oh, Hal! that's what you call a cracker, and that's more cowardly
still. When I went to sleep you were lying down beside me, and when I
woke up you were standing over there."
"That's right," said Harry.
"And when you woke up you felt mischievous, and caught that little
beetle to put in my ear."
"That's wrong," said Harry sturdily.
"Why, I felt it directly it was in; and you must have done it."
"Oh, of course, because beetles have no legs to crawl, and no wings to
fly, and you weren't lying ear upward so that it could drop in off the
roof."
"You may argue as long as you like, and as I was asleep, of course I
couldn't quite tell how you did it; but there's the beetle. See?"
"Oh yes, I can see," said Harry thoughtfully; "but I didn't put it
there. It got into your ear while I was away."
"Oh, Hal!"
"And oh, Phra!"
"To say you were coming back when you were just going to slip away!"
"Wasn't going to slip away. I tell you I was coming back."
"I don't believe you."
"Very well," said Harry; "don't."
"I--I mean, I beg your pardon, Hal."
There was no reply.
"Tell me why you went away," said Phra, who felt that he had gone too
far.
"It's of no use. You will not believe me," said Harry, taking out his
knife and beginning to carve his initials on one of the big bamboos.
"Yes, I will!" cried Phra. "I daresay I was wrong. I was cross with
being woke up like that, and I felt sure you had done it."
"And you feel sure now," said Harry coldly.
"No, not sure," said Phra frankly, "only doubtful."
"Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself for feeling so. It's not as
if I were a Siamese fellow--they say anything. An English boy doesn't
like to be doubted."
"Beg your pardon, Hal--so sorry," said Phra penitently. "Shake hands."
"Not I," said Harry stiffly. "I'm not going to shake hands with a chap
who doesn't believe my word."
"Hal!" cried Phra, with a pleading look in his eyes.
"We'd better not be friends any more; and you'd better go away and
have nothing more to do with us English people."
"Why? What makes you say that?"
Harry was silent, and stood frowning there, hacking at the bamboo; but
the quick-witted Siamese lad seemed to grasp the idea that there was
something more behind the fit of annoyance, and began to press his
companion. And the more silent and mysterious Harry proved to be, the
more he pressed.
For a time he obtained nothing but mysterious hints and bitter words
about things not being as they should be, and at last the boy said
angrily,--
"Look here, Hal, I'm sure you are hiding something. I woke up and saw
you there, and I felt sure you had been playing some trick. You know
you often do."
"Yes, often," said Harry quietly.
"Then you told me you had not, and I begged your pardon for saying
things when I was cross. I know you well enough now; you can't keep up
anything of that sort--you get in a temper sometimes, but it's all
over soon and you shake hands, or even if you don't, it's soon all
right again and forgotten: but now you keep on talking about our not
being friends any more, and I'm sure there's something the matter.
Now, isn't there?"
Harry nodded and looked gloomy as he went on cutting in the hard wood,
and spoiled the shape of the K he was carving.
"What is it, then? Why don't you tell me?"
"Don't want to make you uncomfortable."
"Then it's something serious?"
Harry nodded again.
"You're not going away, Hal?" cried Phra excitedly.
"It seems as if we'd better," said Harry gloomily.
"No, that you shan't!" cried Phra angrily. "Who says that? I know;
it's your father's offended about something. But I won't have it."
Harry smiled.
"You're not king," he said.
"No, but I shall be some day, and till I am, my father will let me
have anything I like, so long as it's wise and good. It's quite right
for you and your father to stay here, for it's doing you both good,
and us too. Father said only the other night that it was a grand thing
for the country to have wise Englishmen here to instruct us in
everything."
"Do you think so, Phra?"
"Of course I do. Why, look at last year, when that dreadful plague
came and the people were dying so fast till Doctor Cameron made them
keep the sick people to themselves, and had their clothes and things
burnt. Father always says he stopped it from going any further. It's
so with everything, if people would only learn."
"But they don't like us," said Harry.
"The sensible ones do. It's only the silly, obstinate, old-fashioned
folk who like to go on always in the same way, and who think that they
know everything and that there's nothing more to be learnt. Here's
something you never heard. Some of the other king's people put it
about last year that father was making poisons in his room so as to
kill the people."
"Oh yes, I know it," said Harry bitterly.
"And they say the bad diseases come in the cases father has from
England. I daresay they'll think that there's another plague come in
our case with the cricket bats and balls."
"They do say so," said Harry.
"How do you know?" cried Phra sharply.
"Heard 'em."
"When?"
"Just now, when you were asleep."
"Hah! Then that's it!" cried Phra; and it all came out.
The Siamese lad heard his companion to the end with a look of haughty
contempt which made him look years older, and when he had finished he
said slowly,--
"Poor silly idiots! Those are the sort of people who would say that a
blowpipe was better than a rifle. What does it matter?"
"Matter? Why, it is bad for you and your father to be friendly with
such people as we are."
"How absurd!" cried Phra. "The weak, silly, ignorant people are so
stupid about things they do not understand."
"But these were not common, ignorant people, but noblemen."
"Very likely," said Phra, with a shrug of his shoulders. "It is as
father says: many of the old noblemen of the other king's party are
too proud to learn anything, and they pretend to believe he deals in
magic and is mad."
"Yes, that's how they talked," said Harry.
"Well, let them talk. I'm glad my father is so mad as he is, and wants
to learn all about the wonders of the world, and to get me to learn
them too. And I do like it, Hal; I'm ever so fond of learning about
all these strange things. Of course I like playing games, too, and
even your games that you teach us are wonderful and clever. Pooh! let
the silly people talk till they learn to know better."
"But these men in the boat spoke threateningly of it all having an
end, just as if they meant to attack the King and drive us all away."
"Bah!" ejaculated the lad. "Attack my father? Pooh! they dare not.
He's as gentle and kind as any one can be, but he can be angry too,
and when he is, he is very fierce and stern. He won't believe that any
one would dare to attack him. I don't believe it either."
"But if you had heard those two men talk?"
"Well, then I should have heard two men talk, that's all. What is
talking? A mere nothing."
"But suppose they were to begin to act?" said Harry, who was looking
at his friend admiringly.
"What do you mean--fight?"
"Yes."
"I hope they will not," said Phra rather sadly, "because it would be
so terrible. They would fight because they don't know better, and they
will not learn. But they would learn then when it was too late."
"What would happen?"
"A number of foolish people would be killed, and when those who began
the trouble were caught--"
"Yes?" said Harry, for Phra had ceased speaking; "what would happen
then?"
"They would have to die, too, and it seems horrible when the great
world is so beautiful and people might be happy."
"Think the King would have them executed?"
"Of course. He is all that is good and kind to everybody now, but if
the people rose against him, he would say, 'Poor blind, foolish
creatures! I must forgive them, for they don't know better; but the
leaders must suffer for leading them into sin.'"
"And their heads would be chopped off?"
"Certainly," said Phra coldly. "It would be for every one's good. But
don't look like that, Hal; we can't help the stupid people talking
foolishly. It does not matter to us."
"But it does," said Harry. "It makes me think that we ought not to
stay."
"Nonsense!" cried Phra.
"Are you going to tell your father what the people are saying?"
"No; why should I?"
"I think he ought to know," said Harry.
"I daresay he does know how people talk, but it does not trouble him.
They are foolish people who do not know he is the best king we have
ever had. Let them talk. There, I am going home now. You keep the
football."