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."
CHAPTER XI
THE NAGA'S BITE
Phra had not been gone long before Mr. Kenyon returned from his business down in the port, and in reply to his question, "Anything fresh happened, my boy?" Harry told him what he had heard, watching his father's face intently the while.
"Then you think it is very serious, father?" said Harry.
"Do I, Hal? What makes you say that?"
"You look anxious about it."
"I was not aware that you were studying my face," said Mr. Kenyon, smiling. "Well, it is serious news, and it is not serious, if you can understand that. The words you heard were those of dissatisfied folk, and these exist everywhere. Of course I have long known that the common, ignorant people resent our being here a good deal, especially the followers of the second king, as they call him; but most of the people like us, and I find that they are very eager to deal with me in business, trusting me largely with their goods, and quite content to wait till I choose to pay them. That looks as if we have a good character. Then, as regards our treatment in the place, you have never found any one insulting or offensive to you."
"No, father; every one is smiling and pleasant."
"Of course. You need not trouble yourself about the disagreeable remarks of a couple of malcontents."
These words cheered Harry, whose young imagination had been piling up horrors to come for the dwellers at the palace and the English people who were near.
Two days later, when he was a little higher up the river, a pleasant, musical voice saluted him from the other side of a hedge.
"What! going by without calling? For shame!"
Harry turned through a gate and down a path to where a lady was seated busy over some kind of needlework under a shady tree.
There was something so pleasant in her smile of welcome that the boy eagerly caught at her extended hand, before taking the chair that was pointed out.
"But that's the doctor's," he said.
"Yes, but he is down the river in his boat, seeing some of his patients. Have some fruit, Harry. All that basketful was sent us this morning by one of Duncan's patients."
"How nice! May I take that mangosteen?"
"Take all," said Mrs. Cameron, for she it was. "The people are never tired of sending us great pines and melons. They are so nice and grateful for everything my husband does for them. I used to think it would be very dreadful to come out here amongst all the strange, half-savage people, as I expected they would be."
"But they are not savage," said Harry.
"Savage? No. They are as gentle and nice as can be. They seem to be more afraid of us than we are of them."
Harry feasted his eyes upon the sweet face and form of the graceful English lady, and the sight seemed to bring up something misty and undefined of some one who used to lean over his little bed at night to press her warm lips upon his face, which was brushed by her long, fair hair.
It was a pleasant feeling, but sad as well, for the few moments that the memory stayed.
Then he had to answer questions as to why he had not brought his friend with him, of the games he had been playing, about his excursions; and he was in the midst of his answers when a quick step was heard, and Mrs. Cameron sprang up.
"Here is Duncan," she cried.
"Hullo, Hal!" cried the doctor, entering; "here you are, then! Where's the Prince?"
"He has not been down to-day."
"Oh, then that is why we are honoured with a visit, is it?"
"I—I was not coming to see you to-day, was I, Mrs. Cameron?" said
Harry, colouring.
"No, that is a fact," said the lady. "He was going right by, but I called him in."
"Ah, well, we will forgive you. Stop and have tea with us."
Harry's acceptation showed that he was only too glad, and after the pleasant meal in the verandah, there was an interesting hour to be spent in the doctor's curious compound of surgery, study, and museum, where plenty of fresh insects had to be examined.
Mrs. Cameron displaying a bright, girl-like interest in everything, till called away to give some instructions to her servants.
"How Mrs. Cameron must help you, Doctor!" said Harry. "I did not know that she was so clever at pinning out moths."
"Look here," said the doctor sternly, "have you been saying anything to her about what you told your father you heard said in that boat?"
"Not a word, sir."
"That's right. I'm glad of it; but I was afraid."
"Oh, I shouldn't have thought of telling her."
"I'm glad you have so much discretion, my boy. You see, ladies are easily made nervous; and if my wife had heard all that, she would have been fidgeting about it every time I was away, and of course that is very often."
"You don't think there is any danger, do you?"
"Not the slightest, my boy; the people are all too friendly. It is only a few discontented humbugs who are old-fashioned and object to the King's ways."
"That is what my father says," said Harry.
"And that is what I say, so let's think no more about it."
"There's Phra," cried Harry, starting up, as a long-drawn whistle was heard.
Harry ran out, and was going down to the gate, passing Mrs. Cameron, who was walking back to her seat under the tree; but all of a sudden she stopped short, tottered as if about to fall, and then stood there with a ghastly face as white as her dress.
It was a mere glimpse that the boy obtained, but it was enough to check his hurried race for the gate.
Something was wrong, he could not tell what; but the doctor's wife was evidently in sore trouble, and he turned to go to her help.
"What is the matter, Mrs. Cameron?" he cried; but she made no reply. It was as if she had not heard him speak, and with head averted she stood looking to the left in a singularly strained attitude, like one striving to escape from something horrible, but whose feet were held to the ground.
In his excitement Harry ran round before her and caught her hand in his, to find it icily cold; but she only uttered a gasping sound, and still stared horribly and with convulsed face down to her left.
Very few moments had elapsed from the boy's first taking alarm till he now turned wonderingly to his right to follow the direction of Mrs. Cameron's eyes, and then a horrible chill ran through him, and he felt paralysed and helpless, for there, not six feet away, raised up on the lower part of its body, was one of the most deadly serpents in the world, its grey brown marked scales glistening as it played about in a wavy, undulatory fashion, its so-called hood spread out showing the spectacle-like markings, and its flattened head turned down at right angles to the neck, with the forked tongue playing and flickering in and out through the little opening in its jaws.
The lower part of the creature was partly hidden by the flowers on a dry bed, but the anterior portion rose fully three feet above the plants, and the creature swung itself about and rose and sank as if preparing for a spring upon the fascinated woman; for either from horror or some occult power on the part of the deadly reptile, Mrs. Cameron was perfectly helpless, and promised to be an easy victim to the cobra when it struck.
But Harry's stunned sensation of horror did not last; he stepped back for a moment or two, looking sharply about for a weapon, but looked in vain, for there was nothing near but a small bamboo stool.
It was better than nothing. He caught it up by one leg, and raising it above his shoulder he stepped quickly between Mrs. Cameron and her enemy, prepared to strike with all his might, while the cobra's eyes seemed to burn, and it drew back as if about to spring.
At that moment, released from the influence of the reptile by the interposition of Harry's body, the power of movement returned, and uttering a low, sobbing cry Mrs. Cameron sank slowly to her knees upon the ground, where she crouched, watching the movements of her champion, but not daring to look again at the serpent.
The sobbing cry behind him drew Harry's attention from his enemy for a moment, but only for that space of time. Then he was once more on guard, fully realizing the danger of his position, but so strung up by the emergency that he felt not the slightest fear.
Harry's was but a momentary glance back, but it was an opportunity for the enemy.
Quick as lightning it struck. There was the darting forward as of a spring set free, the stroke and the rebound, and as the reptile was about to strike again Harry delivered his blow, which crushed down the hissing creature with such effect that the next moment it had writhed itself out from among the plants, to lie clear to receive blow after blow from the stool, till the latter flew into fragments, while the cobra twined and twisted and tied itself into knots in its agony, close to the lad's feet.
He did not attempt to shrink away, only looked round for something else to seize as a weapon, and then he stared strangely at Mrs. Cameron, who had sprung up.
"Harry! What is it?" she cried hoarsely. "Did it bite you?"
"Don't know," he said, in a curious, husky voice. "I—I think so; but
I've killed it."
"But where? Show me where?" panted Mrs. Cameron wildly.
For answer Harry drew back the cuff from his right wrist, and held it up.
"There," he said.
Without a moment's hesitation Mrs. Cameron caught the lad's hand and arm and raised it to her lips, sucking the tiny puncture with all her power, and then, as she withdrew her lips for a moment, she shrieked out,—
"Duncan! Duncan! Help, help!" before placing her lips to the bite again.
"What's the matter?" cried Phra, running to them from the gate. "Mrs.
Cameron! Hal! What is it?"
"Snake," said Harry faintly, just as Phra caught sight of the writhing creature, struck at it, and watching his opportunity crushed its head into the ground with his heel, the reptile in its dying agonies twining tightly about his ankle and leg.
Mrs. Cameron took her lips from the wound again, and her lips parted to shriek once more; but her cries had been heard, and the doctor came running down to her side.
There was no need to ask questions—he saw what had happened at a glance, and the dangerous nature of the wound was told by the swollen shape of the snake's neck by Phra's boot.
"Once more," he said to his wife; "then let me."
As Mrs. Cameron pressed her lips to the wound, her husband snatched the thin silk neckerchief Harry wore from his neck, twisted it up into a cord, and tied it as tightly as he could round the lad's arm, just above the elbow-joint.
"Now let me come," he said sharply. "Run in, Mary; fetch basin, sponge, water, and the caustic bottle."
Mrs. Cameron was used to her husband's ways in emergencies, and resigning the patient to his hands she ran off to the house.
"Sit down here, Hal," said Cameron, "and keep a good heart, lad. I daresay we shall take it in time."
As he spoke he pressed the silent lad back into Mrs. Cameron's chair, snatched off the jacket, tore open the shirt-sleeve, and then drew out his pocket-book, from which he took a lancet.
With this he scarified the tiny wound, making it bleed freely, before placing his lips to it and trying to draw the poison away again and again, while Phra stood close by, his face of a livid hue, and making no offer of help on account of his position.
For the serpent was still twined tightly about his ankle and leg, and he felt sure that if he released the head from beneath his foot, the reptile would strike again.
By this time Mrs. Cameron was back with the various articles required, and she knelt down with the basin in her lap as the doctor took a little wide-mouthed bottle from her hand, removed the stopper, shook out a tiny stick of white, sugar-looking crystal, and after moistening the end, liberally used it in and about the mouth of the wound.
"Hurt you, my boy?" said Cameron sharply, as Harry lay back, with his eyes tightly closed.
"Horribly," was the reply. "Feels like red-hot iron."
"Do you good, boy. Act like a stimulus. Now, can you walk indoors?"
"I think so."
"One moment. You, Phra, run up and tell Mr. Kenyon to come here directly."
"No, no," cried Harry; "don't do that. It would frighten him."
"He must be told, Hal, my lad. Go, Phra."
The boy addressed pointed to his foot.
"If I let its head go, it will sting," he said.
"Oh, I see," said the doctor coolly, and taking a knife from his pocket, he opened it, bent down, and with one cut passed the knife blade through the cobra's neck, with the result that the long, lithe body was set free, as if it had been held in its place by the position of the head, and Phra's leg was released.
But he took his foot very cautiously off the head, which even then moved, as if still connected with the slowly writhing body, for the jaws opened and shut two or three times, the vitality in the creature being wonderful.
But Phra did not stay to see. He stepped quickly to Harry's side and caught his left hand, to hold it for a moment against his throbbing breast, and then ran off as hard as he could go.
Meanwhile, supported on either side by the doctor and his wife, Harry was led into the former's room, the boy looking rather wild and strange. Here he was seated upon a cane couch, while a draught of ammonia and water was prepared, and held to him to drink.
"Not thirsty," he said, shaking his head.
"Never mind; drink," cried the doctor, and the lad hastily tossed off the contents.
"Nice?" said the doctor, with a smile.
"Horrid; like soap and water," replied Harry. "May I go to sleep?"
"Yes, for a time, if you can."
"But I say, look here, Doctor; when father comes, don't let him be frightened. I'm not going to be very bad, am I?"
"I hope not, Hal. You see, we have taken it in time."
"That's right," said the boy, with a deep sigh, and he closed his eyes at once and let his head subside on the pillow, sinking at once into a kind of stupor, for it was not like sleep.
"Oh, Duncan," whispered Mrs. Cameron, as soon as she felt satisfied that the patient could not hear, "surely he will not die?"
"Not if I can help it, dear," he replied. "That was very brave of you to suck the wound. It may have saved his life."
"Poor, brave, darling boy!" she cried, bursting into a convulsive fit of sobbing, as she sank in her husband's arms, utterly giving way now. "He saved me from the horrible reptile, and was bitten himself."
"Ha! God bless him for it—and spare his life," added the doctor to himself—"that was it, then?"
"Yes, dear," sobbed Mrs. Cameron; "I was going back to take up my work when I heard a rustling sound among the flowers, and looking round I saw the horrible thing dancing and waving itself up and down as they do when a snake-charmer plays to them. I couldn't stir; I couldn't speak. I seemed to be suddenly made rigid; and then it was that Harry saw the state I was in, and came to my help."
"What did he do?" said the doctor, as he tried to calm his wife's hysterical sobs.
"Ran between me and the snake, and struck at it when it darted itself out. It would have bitten me, for it was gradually coming closer to me, and—and—and—oh, it was so dreadful, Duncan dear! I seemed to have no power to move. I knew that if I ran off I should be safe, but I could not stir, only wait as if fixed by the horrible creature's eyes—wait till it darted at and bit me."
"And Harry dashed in between you?"
"Yes, dear. He seized the little bamboo stool, and struck at it. Oh,
Duncan! Duncan! Don't let him die!"
"Let him die, my dear?" said the doctor, drawing in his breath. "Not if my poor knowledge can save him. But I have great hopes that your brave thoughtfulness will have had its effect. Now go and lie down a bit till you have grown calm. This terrible business has unhinged you."
"No, no, dear; let me stay."
"I dare not, my dear. You are weak and hysterical from the shock, and
I must keep the poor boy undisturbed."
"You may trust me, dear," said Mrs. Cameron; "I am better now. There, you see I am mastering my weakness. I will master it, and be quite calm, so as to help you to nurse him and make him well."
"May I trust you?"
"Yes, yes, dear."
"But suppose he is very, very bad?" whispered the doctor.
"I will be quite calm and helpful then. Afterwards I will not answer for myself."
"Then stay," said the doctor, who examined his patient as he lay there, looking strange and completely stupefied.
"Raise him up a little," said the doctor, after he had mixed some more ammonia and water; "I want him to drink this."
Mrs. Cameron's task was easy, and there was no trouble then in getting the patient to drink, till the last spoonful or two, which he thrust away.
"It hurts me to swallow," he muttered, as if to himself—"it hurts me to swallow."
The doctor frowned, as he helped his wife to lower the poor fellow down, and examined the wrist and arm, which were now becoming terribly swollen and blotched.
"Oh, Duncan!" whispered Mrs. Cameron, "can't you do something more?"
"No," he said sadly; "one is fearfully helpless in such a case as this. Everything possible has been done; it is a fight between nature and the poison."
"And there seemed to be no time before I was trying to draw it out of the wound again."
"It is so horribly subtle," said the doctor. "What you did ought to have checked the action, but it is going on. I dread poor Kenyon's coming, and yet I am longing for it. He cannot be long."
"Duncan," whispered Mrs. Cameron, as she laid her hand tenderly upon Harry's forehead, "are you sure that he cannot understand what we say?"
"Quite."
"You said the poison was subtle; will it be long before the effect passes off?"
"No," replied the doctor; "the danger should be quite at an end before an hour is passed. Subtle? Horribly subtle and quick, dear. I have known poor creatures die in a quarter of an hour after being struck. Hist! I can hear Kenyon's steps in the garden. Go to the door and bring him in."
Mrs. Cameron went out softly, but returned with Phra.
"Is Mr. Kenyon coming?"
"He went down the river in his boat, Michael says, and will not be back till evening."
"Tut—tut—tut!" ejaculated the doctor.
"How is he?" whispered Phra.
"Bad; very bad," replied the doctor.
"Oh!" cried Phra, in agony. "But you are curing him, Doctor Cameron?"
"I am doing everything I possibly can, Phra."
"Yes, I know; and you are so clever. It is all right, and he will soon be better."
The doctor groaned, and bent over his patient, exchanging glances with his wife—looks both full of despair.
Phra stepped to the doctor's side, and caught him fiercely by the arm.
"You frighten me," he whispered excitedly. "Don't say he is very bad!"
"Look," said the doctor sadly, and he pointed to the horrible appearance of his young patient's arm. "It is of no use to disguise it, Phra: the poison of these dreadful reptiles is beyond a doctor's skill."
"But do something—do something!" cried Phra angrily. "You are only standing and looking on. You must—you shall do more."
Mrs. Cameron rose and took the lad's hands, drawing them aside.
"Be patient, Phra," she whispered. "My husband is doing everything that is possible."
"But it is so dreadful," cried Phra. "I saw some one die from a snake-bite, and he looked just like that. But there was no doctor then. Can't he do something more?"
Mrs. Cameron shook her head.
"You know how clever and wise he is, Phra. We must trust him. He knows what is best."
Phra groaned, and sank down despairingly in a chair; but he started up again directly.
"Shall I fetch my father? He is very wise about snake-bites. He would come for Hal."
"He could do nothing," said the doctor gravely. "Be silent, please; I am doing everything that is possible."
Phra frowned on hearing the imperative way in which the doctor spoke, but he did not resent it. He merely went on tip-toe to the head of the couch, and knelt down there, watching every movement on Harry's part, though these were few.
From time to time the doctor administered ammonia, but it seemed to have not the slightest effect: the swelling went on; the skin of the boy's arm grew of a livid black; and the mutterings of delirium made the scene more painful.
And so three hours passed away, with no sign of Mr. Kenyon, no token given that the danger was nearly passed.
Every one was indefatigable, striving the best to render Harry's sufferings lighter; but all seemed in vain, and at last, as she read truly the look of despair in her husband's face, every palliative he administered seeming to be useless, Mrs. Cameron, after fighting hard to keep back her grief, threw herself upon her knees by the side of the couch, and burst into a hysterical fit of sobbing.
This was too much for Phra, who, to hide his own feelings, hurried out into the garden, unable as he was to witness Mrs. Cameron's sufferings unmoved.
And now in his utter despair the doctor made no effort to check his wife's loud sobs, feeling as he did that they could do no harm; and after attending to his patient again, he was about to walk to the window to try and think whether there was anything else that he could do, when to his astonishment Harry opened his eyes, stared round vacantly, and said in sharp tones,—
"Yes! What is it? Who called?"
The doctor was at his side in an instant, and caught his hand. "Harry, my lad," he said, "do you know me?"
The boy stared at him strangely, but he had comprehended the question.
"Know you?" he said. "Yes; why shouldn't I know you? What a ridiculous question! But—Here, what is the matter with that lady? Is it—is it—? My head aches, and I can't think," he added, after looking wonderingly about. "What has been the matter? Doctor Cameron, has some one been ill?"
"Yes, some one has been very ill," said the doctor, laying his cool hand upon the boy's forehead and pressing him back upon the pillow.
"Some one has been very ill! Who is it? Can't be father or Mike. Why am I here? I'm not ill. Here, something hurts me, doctor—something on the wrist. Just look; it hurts so that I can't lift it."
The doctor took hold of the frightfully swollen arm, and made as if examining the injury, saying quietly,—
"Oh, it's only a bite; it will be better soon. I'll put a little olive oil to it. Will you get some, my dear?"
Mrs. Cameron rose from her knees quickly, and hurried out of the room, keeping her head averted so that Harry should not see her face.
He noticed this, and his eyes filled with a wondering look. "I don't understand it," he said. "I'm not at home."
"No," said the doctor quietly. "You are here, at my house."
"Of course; and that was Mrs. Cameron who went out to get the oil, and—"
He stopped short, and looked about him for some moments. Then in a puzzled way:—
"There's something I want to think about, but I can't."
"Don't worry about it, then. Lie still till you can."
"Yes, that will be the best way. Ah! here she is."
Mrs. Cameron was back with the oil, and he made her lips quiver, and she had hard work to keep back her tears, as he said,—
"That's good of you to fetch it. Thank you, Doctor. What was it bit me? One of those big mosquitoes? Ah!"
He uttered a wild cry, and his face grew convulsed with horror.
"What is it, my dear boy?" said the doctor.
"I know now," he said, in a low, passionate, agitated voice. "It has come back. The snake! I was bitten by that snake!"
"Yes, my boy, but the effect is all passing off," said the doctor soothingly.
"No, no; you are saying that to keep me from thinking I shall die of the bite, and—" his voice sank to a whisper, as he murmured despairingly, "Oh, father, father! what will you do?"
"I am not cheating you, Harry," said the doctor, leaning over him; "it is the simple truth. You were bitten by the virulent reptile; but fortunately we were close by, and the poison has yielded to the remedies."
"Ah! you gave me something?"
"We did, of course," said the doctor gravely, giving his wife a glance. "You have been delirious and insensible, but the poison is mastered, and you have nothing to do now but get well. Thank God!"
The boy took the last words literally. He closed his eyes, and they saw his lips move in the silence which lasted for some minutes.
Then he opened his eyes, and spoke quite naturally.
"I can recollect all about it now. But tell me, are you sure Mrs.
Cameron was not hurt?"
"Hurt? No, Harry," said that lady, taking his hand, to press it to her lips. "I have you to thank for saving my life."
He imitated her action, and said with a smile,—
"No, no. Doctor Cameron would have cured you as he did me. But ugh! what an arm!" he cried, hastily drawing the sleeve over the discoloured, swollen skin. "I say, doctor, it won't stop like that, will it?"
"Oh no, that will soon pass away."
At that moment Phra's piteous face appeared at the window, looking inquiringly in, for he had been puzzled by the voices he had heard; and as soon as he grasped the state of affairs, he uttered a wild cry,—
"Hal!"
It was as he rushed in through the window and dashed across the floor, to pretty well fling himself upon his companion. Then, with simulated anger, to choke down the burst of sobs striving for exit,—
"Oh, you wretch!" he cried, "to frighten us all like that! Doctor, what doesn't he deserve!"
"Rest and quiet, Phra, my lad. Steady, please; he is a bit weak yet."
"Yes, I understand. But oh, Hal, old chap, old chap! you have made me feel bad!"
"So sorry," said the boy, "and so glad you all felt like that. But,
Phra, I want you to do something."
"Yes, what is it?" cried Phra eagerly.
"I want you to go up to our place and wait till father comes back. Then tell him I'm better. I shouldn't like him to hear I had been bitten by a naga without knowing the whole truth."
"Yes, I'll go," cried the boy, pressing his friend's hand. "But tell me first, doctor: he is ever so much better?"
"Quite out of all danger now," was the reply, and Phra started off, but only to find that he was too late, for before he had gone a hundred yards he met Mr. Kenyon and Mike, running.
"Ah!" cried the merchant wildly, catching Phra by the arm, "tell me quickly—the truth—the truth."
"Better; getting well fast," said Phra quickly.
Mr. Kenyon stopped short and laid his hand to his breast, and stood panting for a few minutes before speaking again.
"Mike told you as soon as you came ashore, then?"
"No, he came down the river in a boat to fetch me, as soon as he heard the news. But come, quick, I must see for myself!"
As Mr. Kenyon entered the room the doctor and his wife just said a word, and then went softly out, Phra grasping the reason and following them into the garden.
"Yes, I see," he said softly; "to let them be alone."
They all three turned down one of the paths amongst the thickly planted bushes, and then stopped short in wonder, for there just before them was Mike, crying like a child, and wiping his eyes.
He was aware of their presence, though, almost as soon as they were of his, and making a pretence of mopping his face with the handkerchief he held, he hurried up.
"Awful hot, sir," he said. "You want me?"
"No, not yet," said the doctor, ignoring the tears; "but in two or three hours I think we can get your young master home. I think you had better see about a palanquin and bearers by-and-by. Or perhaps you might as well go now, and tell the men to be here in two hours' time."
"Yes, sir; of course, sir, but—er—"
"What is it?" said the doctor.
"Could I just go and say a word to the young master, sir?"
"I think not now, Mike. His father is with him, and we have left them so that they might be alone."
"Of course, sir, and quite right too," said Mike. "I'll be off at once, sir; but it is amazing hot."
Mike hurried away, and as soon as he was out of hearing Phra said quickly,—
"See how he'd been crying, Mr. Cameron?"
"Yes, Phra."
"That's because he liked our Hal so. Every one likes Hal."
CHAPTER XII
SUL THE ELEPHANT
"Bother the old cobra! Don't say any more about it; I hate to hear the thing mentioned. Well, there, quite well, thank you; how do you do?"
"But you might tell me, Hal."
"Why, I am telling you. I'm quite well again."
"Don't you feel anything?"
"Oh yes, just a little; my arm feels pins-and-needlesy, just as if I had been to sleep on it in an awkward position; and it looks as if it was turning into a snake."
"What, twists and twines about?"
"No—o—o—o! What nonsense! How can a thing with stiff bones in it twist and twine about? I mean, the skin's all marked something like a snake's; but Dr. Cameron says I need not mind, for it will all go off in time. Oh, I am so sick of it all! I wish I hadn't killed the snake."
"What!" cried Phra.
"No, I don't quite mean that, because of course I'm glad to have killed the horrible, poisonous thing; only it's so tiresome. That's nearly a month ago, and everybody's watching me to see how I look, and asking me how I am, and you're about the worst of the lot."
"It's quite natural, Hal."
"Is it? Then I wish it wasn't. I suppose it's quite natural for Mrs.
Cameron to begin to cry as soon as she sees me."
"It's because she feels grateful to you for saving her life."
"There you go again," cried Harry peevishly. "Saving her life! Oh, how I wish I hadn't! Everybody will keep telling me of it, and one says it was so good of me, and another calls me a brave young hero; and just because I hit a snake a whack with an old bamboo stool. It's sickening."
Phra laughed heartily.
"You're not sorry you saved her life."
"Will you be quiet?" cried Harry angrily. "Saved her life again. Everybody's telling me of it. Of course I don't mean I'm sorry, but I wish somebody else had done it. Ah! you, for instance," cried the boy, with one of his old mirthful looks. "Ha, ha, ha! Poor old Phra! How would he like it? every one calling him a brave young hero!"
"I shouldn't mind it once or twice," said Phra thoughtfully. "But after that I suppose it would be rather tiresome."
"Tiresome!" cried Harry. "It sets your teeth on edge—it makes you squirm—it makes you want to throw things that will break—it makes you want to call names, and kick."
Phra roared.
"Ah, you may grin, my lad, but it does."
"It would make me feel proud," said Phra.
"That it wouldn't. You're not such a silly, weak noodle. It would make you feel ashamed of yourself, for it's sickly and stupid to make such a fuss about nothing. No, don't say any more about it, or there'll be a fight."
"I say, Hal," cried Phra. "I shall be glad when you are quite well again."
"I am quite well again. Look here, I'll race you along the terrace and back."
"No, it makes one too hot. But you're not quite well yet."
"I am, I tell you. Do you want to quarrel?"
"No, but that proves you are not."
"How? What do you mean?"
"You get cross so soon. It's just as if that snakebite—"
"Don't!" roared Harry.
"Turned you sour and acid."
Harry did not resent this, but remained silent for a few moments.
"I say," he said at last, "is that true?"
"What?"
"About me turning sour and acid?"
"Oh yes; you get out of temper about such little things. I'm almost afraid to speak to you sometimes."
"Hi! Look at him! There he goes. One of those little monkeys. He heard me shout. How he can jump from tree to tree! I wish we were as active. There! He can't jump to that next tree. He'd fall down. Well! Look at that. Why, it was a tremendous jump."
"We were here just right," said Phra; "he was coming after the fruit, and we scared him."
Harry was silent, and walked on by his companion's side in the beautiful gardens of the palace. Then he began to whistle softly, as if he were thinking. At last he broke out with—
"Oh, what a lovely garden this is! I wish my father was a king, and I was a prince, and all this was ours."
Phra threw himself down on the grass beneath a clump of shrubs and began to laugh heartily.
"What are you laughing at?" said Harry angrily.
"You. Why, you wouldn't like it half so well as what you have now."
"Oh, shouldn't I! I know better than that."
"No, you don't, Hal. That is all my father's, and it will be all mine some day; but I like being at your place ever so much better than being here."
"You don't. Nonsense!"
"I do, I tell you. Your little garden's lovely, and the dear old landing-place is ten times nicer than our marble steps."
"You've been out in the sun too much, Phra, and it has turned your head."
"That it hasn't. And as to your father being king, he'd soon be very tired of it, as my father is; for it's all worry and care."
Harry had thrown himself sprawling on the grass beside his companion, and the boys were both silent for a while, as if listening to the soft cooing of one of the beautiful little rose and green doves which frequented the garden.
"It's very curious," said Harry at last.
"What is?" said Phra wonderingly.
"That the poison of that snake—such a wee, tiny drop as got into me—should have such a droll effect."
"I don't see anything droll in it," replied Phra.
"I do," cried Harry. "Here, only a little time ago I was the jolliest, best-tempered fellow that ever lived."
"Ho, ho, ho!" laughed Phra.
"Well, so I was," cried Harry indignantly.
"When you weren't cross."
"Oh, I say, I never was cross; but I'll own to it now. I've often thought about it lately. You're quite right, Phra; the least thing does put me out now, and I feel as if I must grind my teeth together. Think it is because of the poison?"
"Of course it is. But never mind. I don't, because I know why it is."
"I have been very cross, then, sometimes, have I?"
"Horrid!" cried Phra, laughing. "You've been ready to call the sun names for shining, and the wind for blowing. You can't think how cross you've been."
"I can guess. It's what Dr. Cameron calls being a trifle irritable. Hullo! here's one of your fellows coming. Looks just as if he were going to spear us both for being in the King's garden."
A handsome, bronze-skinned guard stalked up and bowed to Phra.
"What do you want?" asked Phra.
"The hunter, Sree, asks to see the Prince," replied the man.
That was enough. There was neither irritability in Harry, nor thought of the heat in Phra, as they sprang up and made for the outer court, where they found Sree sitting upon his heels, calmly meditative over his thoughts, but ready to spring up on seeing the two lads approach.
He saluted them after the country fashion, and in reply to the question asked by both together,—
"I came to see if the young Sahib Harry was well enough to go out, and the Prince would go with him."
"Of course I'm well enough," cried Harry. "I say, Sree, have you seen any cobras since that one bit me?"
Phra turned sharply round, with his face full of the mirth he tried to hide.
"Yes, I know what you mean," cried Harry sharply. "I shall talk about it myself, though, if I like. Have you seen any, Sree?"
"Just one hundred and seven, Sahib," said the man.
"A hundred and seven!" cried Harry. "What, about here?"
"About the different houses and landings, Sahib," replied the old hunter. "They like to get near to where people live, because of the little animals that come too."
"I shouldn't have thought that there were so many for miles and miles."
"Oh yes, Sahib; there are many nagas about."
"You must have seen the same ones over again," said Harry.
"No, Sahib; it was not so, because I killed as many as I said."
"Killed them!"
"Yes, Sahib; when I knew that you had been bitten, I felt that I must have been neglectful, and I set to work seeking for nagas with my two men, and we killed all those. You see, it is easy. When you find one, there is sure to be its husband or its wife somewhere near."
"Then you killed all those because I was bitten?" said Harry.
"Yes, Sahib, and we are going to kill more. They are dangerous things.
Would the Sahib like to go out to-day?"
"Yes, we should; shouldn't we, Phra?"
"Yes, if you—"
Phra got no farther, on account of the sharp look Harry darted at him.
"Have you anything particular you have tracked down?"
"I have done nothing but hunt nagas lately, Sahib, because I did not know when the Sahib would come again; but the jungle is full of wild creatures, and the river the same. Would Sahib Harry like to go right up the river in a boat, or would he like a ride through the jungle with an elephant?"
"What do you say, Phra?" asked Harry.
"We had a boat out last time," said Phra. "Which you like, though."
"But could you get an elephant? Would your father—"
"Of course," said Phra eagerly. "How soon shall we go?"
"I should like to go directly."
"Then we will go directly. I'll order an elephant to be brought round at once."
He went towards the palace, and Harry followed him with his eyes.
"It's nice," he thought, "to be able to order everything you want like that. To tell the people to bring round an elephant, just as I might give orders for a donkey. Well, it's just the same, only one's bigger than the other, and costs more to keep. It is nice, after all, to be a king or a prince. Phra says it isn't, though, and perhaps one might get as much fun out of a donkey, and if he kicked it wouldn't be so far to fall."
He turned suddenly, to find that the old hunter's eyes were fixed sharply upon him.
"Does the young Sahib feel any pain now from the snake-bite?"
Harry frowned at the allusion, but the question was so respectfully put that he replied quietly,—
"A good deal sometimes, Sree, but my arm is better."
"Be out in the sun all you can, Sahib, and let the hot light shine upon it to bring life and strength back to the blood."
Harry nodded.
"There is death in the serpent's poison, but life in the light of the sun, Sahib. Sree's heart was sore within him when he heard the bad tidings, for he feared it meant that the young Sahib's days were at an end."
"But you never came near me, Sree, while I was bad."
"But I knew, Sahib, and I was busy—oh, so busy! One hundred and seven of the little wretches."
"Oh yes," said Harry, "I had forgotten that. But come along; the
Prince is coming out again."
By the time they reached the court Phra was there, with men carrying out guns, belts, and flasks, with net-bags to hold anything they might shoot; and before this was quite done a peculiar scrunching sound was heard, and directly after the prominent fronted grey head of a huge elephant appeared, as the great quadruped came on, walking softly, and swaying its long trunk from side to side, while upon its neck sat a little ugly man not bigger than a boy, hook-speared goad in hand, and with his legs completely hidden by the creature's great, leathery, flap ears.
"You've got the biggest one, Phra," said Harry.
"Yes, he takes longer strides, and I like him; don't I, Sul?" said the lad, giving the u in the animal's name the long, soft sound of double o.
The elephant uttered a peculiar sound, and twining his truck round
Phra's waist, lifted him from the ground.
"No, no, I am going up by the ladder," said Phra, laughing, and at a word the huge beast set him down again, and raised his trunk to receive a petting from Harry, who was an old friend.
It seemed strange for the great beast with its gigantic power to be so obedient and docile to a couple of mere lads, and the insignificant mahout perched upon its neck. But so it was: at a word the elephant knelt, a short, bamboo ladder was placed against its side, and the boys climbed up; the guns and ammunition were handed in by Sree, who was particular to a degree in seeing that everything was placed in the howdah that was necessary; and then he took his own place behind the lads.
Without being told, a couple of the men drew the ladder away, and the mahout grasped his silver-mounted goad, all attention for the word.
Phra gave this, and then it was like a boat mounting a wave and plunging down the other side, as the elephant rose, and without seeming to exert itself in the least, began to shuffle over the ground.
"Just like two pairs of stuffed trousers under a feather bed," as
Harry termed it.
Sree gave the mahout his directions, and very soon the river was left far behind, and they were following one of the elephant tracks through the wooded district which lay between the river and the jungle proper—the primitive wild, much of which had never been trodden by the foot of man.
Here the trees had gone on growing to their full age, and fallen to make way for others to take their places, the roots of the young literally devouring the crumbled-up touchwood over which they had spread their boughs, while creepers and the ever-present climbing and running palm, the rotan, bound the grand, forest monarchs together, and turned the place into an impenetrable wild, save where the wild elephants had formed their roads and traversed them even to taking the same steps, each planting its huge feet in the impressions made by those which had gone before.