The Rajah of Dah | Page 9

beautiful. Look! they seem to flash out like the sparks
in a wood fire, when the wind suddenly blows over it, and then go out
again."
"Yes," said Ned thoughtfully; "our glow-worms that we used to find
and bring back to put in the garden were nothing to them. Look at
that!"
He pointed to where a bright streak of light glided through the darkness
for a few yards, and then stopped suddenly, when all around it there
was a fresh flashing out of the lights.
"Why, uncle!" cried Ned, "if we caught a lot of those and hung them up
in a glass globe, we shouldn't want this lamp."
"I don't know how the experiment would answer, Ned," was the reply.
"But it would be awkward to go plashing about in the mud and water to
catch the fireflies, and we have no glass globe, while we have a lamp."
The coruscations of the fireflies seemed to fascinate Ned so much that
he became quite silent at last, while the Malays sat huddled together
chewing their betel, and talking in a low subdued tone. Then Murray
struck a match to light his pipe, and the flash showed Ned's intent face.
"What's the matter, boy?"
"I was trying to puzzle it out, uncle."
"What?"
"Oh, there are three things," said Ned, as the half-burned match
described a curve and fell into the water to be extinguished with a hiss,
looking as it flew something like one of the fireflies ashore, but of a
ruddier tint.
"Well, philosopher," said Murray, leaning over against the side of the
boat, "let's have some of your thoughts."

"You'll laugh at me."
"No. Honour bright."
"Well, uncle, first of all, I was wondering why those lights in the
fireflies don't burn them."
"Easily answered, Ned; because they are not hot."
"But they seem to be burning like the flame in a lamp, only of course
very small."
"Seem, Ned, but they are not burning. It's light without heat, the same
as you see on decaying fish; and as we shall find in some of the great
mushrooms in the jungle. It is one of the puzzles scientific men have
not quite settled yet. We have it, you see, in our own glow-worms. I
have often seen it in a kind of centipede at home, which to me seems to
be covered with a kind of luminous oil, some of which it leaves behind
it on a gravel path or the trunk of a tree."
"Yes; I've seen that," said Ned thoughtfully.
"Then, again, you have it on the sea-shore, where in calm, hot weather
the luminosity looks like pale golden-green oil, so thick that you can
skim it from a harbour."
"But what can it all be for?"
"Ah, there you pose me, Ned. What is everything for? What are we
for?"
"To go up the river, and make all sorts of discoveries."
"A good answer. Then let's roll ourselves in our blankets and go to
sleep. Hamet says that we shall start again before it is light, and they
are going to sleep now."
"All right. Shall I make the beds?"

Murray laughed, for the bed-making consisted in taking two blankets
out of a box, and then they rolled themselves up, the lamp was turned
down, and, save for a few moments' rustling sound caused by Ned
fidgeting into a fresh place, all was silent, the faint whisper of the water
gliding by the side of the boat hardly warranting the term sound.
"Asleep, Ned?" came after a pause.
"No, uncle."
"Thinking?"
"Yes, uncle."
"What about?"
"I was thinking how horrid it would be if those people came stealing on
board with their krises, and killed us all."
"Then don't think any more such absurd rubbish, and go to sleep."
"Yes, uncle."
"The people out there have just as much cause to fear that we should
turn pirates, and go and attack them."
There was another pause, and then a fresh repetition of the questioning,
and this time Ned had been thinking how easy it would be for Hamet
and his companions to stab and drop them overboard.
"Get out, you horrible young imaginer of evil. If they did that they
would not be paid for their journey."
"No, uncle, but they'd get the guns and all our things."
"Ned, I'm beginning to think I ought to have left you at home," said Mr
Murray quietly.
"Oh, I say uncle, I couldn't help tumbling overboard."

"No, sir, but you can help putting all kinds of bloodthirsty ideas in my
head. Now go to sleep."
"Well, uncle, if you'll promise not to believe you ought to have left me
at home, I will not think anything like that again."
"Very well, sir. It's a bargain."
There was a