The Rajah of Dah | Page 9

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 long silence, and then, ping--ing--ing--ing, came a sharp, piercing trumpeting.
"Here he is, Ned."
"Who, uncle?"
"The fellow who wants to have our blood."
"Shall I get the guns, uncle?" whispered Ned, in awe-stricken tones.
"Bah! Nonsense! Whoever shot at a mosquito?"
"Mosquito! Oh, I say, what a shame to scare me like that."
The insect came, filled himself full, and flew off replete; but somehow sleep would not come to either Ned or his uncle, and they were lying hot and weary longing for the repose, when they both started up, for from somewhere in the forest beyond the cottages came a deep-toned sound which can only be rendered by the word pow!
"What's that, uncle?"
"Hist! talk in a whisper. It may be some kind of ape on the prowl; but I'm afraid--"
"So am I, uncle, horribly."
"Be quiet, sir, and let me finish what I have to say," cried Murray angrily. "I was going to say I'm afraid it's a tiger."
"Oh, I say, do get down the guns," whispered Ned. "A tiger? And loose?"
"Loose? Why, you young donkey, do you think this is the zoological gardens, and the tiger's cage has been left open?"
"I don't know, I'm sure; only it seems very risky to be here like this, and not even able to shut the door. No--no--no--no, uncle," continued Ned hastily; "you promised you would not think that you ought to have left me at home."
At that moment the cry came again louder and nearer, but modified so that there could be no doubt about the animal that had given vent to