"What else do you know of, Sree?" asked Phra.
"There was a leopard in the woods across the river yesterday, my
Prince; but they are strange beasts, and he may be far away to-day."
"Oh yes, I don't think that's any good," said Harry. "I should like to try for an elephant."
"There are very few near, just now, Sahib," replied the man. "It is only a month since there was the great drive into the kraal, and those that were let go are wild and have gone far away."
"Oh, I say, Phra, and we call this a wild country! Why, we shall have to go beetle-catching or hunting frogs."
Sree smiled, and Harry saw it.
"Well, propose something better," he cried.
"The men were at work in the new sugar plantation," said the man quietly.
"Well, we don't want to go hunting men," cried Harry impatiently.
"And the tiger leaped out of the edge of the jungle, caught the man by the shoulder, and carried him away."
"Ah!" cried Phra excitedly; "why didn't you tell us that at first?"
"Because he kept it back for the last," said Harry. "That's just his way."
"Would the Sahib and my Prince like to try and shoot the tiger?" asked
Sree.
"Would we? Why, of course we would," cried Harry excitedly. "What shall we do? Have a place made in a tree?"
"No, Sahib," replied the man, shaking his head. "If it were a cow or one of the oxen, I would make a place in a tree near the spot where he had dragged the beast, for he would come back to feed upon it as soon as it grew dark; but it was not an ox nor a cow. The poor man has been taken away to the wat, and his wife and friends have paid all they could for him to be burned."
"What shall we do, then?"
"It is of no use to go without a couple of elephants and beaters to drive the tiger out."
Harry looked round at Phra, who nodded his head quietly.
"Very well," he said; "we'll have the elephants out, and men to beat.
When shall we go? To-morrow?"
"Yes, my Prince; to-morrow when the tiger will be lying asleep."
"I'll go and speak to my father," said Phra. "He will not care to come himself, but your father and Doctor Cameron will be sure to say that they will come."
"Yes, of course," said Harry. "But I say, only to think of old Sree here knowing of this tiger, and not saying a word!"
"I was going to tell you, Sahib, before I went away."
"But why didn't you tell us before?"
"Because I did not know, Sahib, till a little while ago, when he came to find me and bring me the news."
He pointed as he spoke to an ordinary-looking peasant who was squatted a little way off beneath the trees, chewing his betel.
The lads had not noticed the man before, as he had shrunk away more into the shade on seeing them come out.
"He brought you the bad news?" said Phra.
"Yes, my Prince. He went to find me yonder after coming across from his village, and no one could tell him where I had gone, till at last he saw the Sahib doctor's boatmen, and they told him that I was here."
"Then I will go and tell my father we want the elephant," said Phra.
"You go and speak to them indoors, for we must kill that wretch."
"If we can," said Harry, smiling; "but Mr. Stripes is sometimes rather hard to find."
Phra nodded, and went across the garden on his way to the palace, while Harry went back into the house, Mike waiting till his young master's back was turned and then handing the gun he was finishing to the old hunter.
"You may as well do this, Sree," he said; "you clean guns so much better than I can."
The old hunter smiled, as he waited to examine the points of the spears his men had been polishing, and then good-humouredly took the gun to finish after his own fashion, for there was a good deal of truth in what Mike Dunning had said.
CHAPTER VII
THE BRINK OF A VOLCANO
The boys were quite wrong in imagining that their act of escaping from the museum had passed unnoticed, for as soon as they had passed out of hearing the doctor nodded his head and threw himself back in his cane chair.
"Now we are alone," he said to Mr. Kenyon, "I may as well tell you what I have heard."
"Nothing serious, I hope?"
"No—yes. It may be either," replied the doctor. "I would not say anything before the boys, for it might make Phra uneasy."
"And Harry?" said Mr. Kenyon.
"No, I think not. I don't believe he would give the matter a second thought."
"You are hard upon the boy," said Mr. Kenyon, rather sternly.
"Not in the least," said the doctor, smiling. "It is his nature. I don't think the matter is really of any consequence, but it would have upset Phra, who is as sensitive as a girl; and he would be worrying himself, and thinking about it for weeks, beside exaggerating the matter on his father's account."
"What is it, then—some trouble with our friend the other king?"
"Friend, eh? I believe that if he could have his own way every European would be driven out of the country—or into the river," he added to himself—"before we were twenty-four hours older."
"What is the fresh trouble, now?"
"Nothing fresh about it, Kenyon. It is the stale old matter. Here we have two parties in the country."
"Yes, and worse still, two kings," interposed Mr. Kenyon.
"Exactly, each having his own party. The one wants to see the country progress and become prosperous and enlightened; the other for it to keep just as it was five hundred years ago; and the worst of it is nearly all the people are on the stand-still side."
"Yes," said Mr. Kenyon. "The old traditions and superstitions suit the indolent nature of the people."
"And the progress the King is making offends their prejudices."
"You mean the prejudices of the bonzes," said Mr. Kenyon sadly.
"Exactly; that is what I do mean, and they are getting so thick with the second king, that I sometimes begin to be afraid that we shall have trouble."
"You have had that idea for a long time now, but the reigning King holds so strong a position that his kinsman dare not rise against him. He is as gentle and amiable a man as could exist, but there is the old Eastern potentate in him still, and our friend number two knows perfectly well that if he attempted to rise he would be pretty well sure to fail, and then his head would fall as surely as if our old Harry the Eighth were on the throne."
"But would he fail? All the bonzes are on his side."
"Yes," said Mr. Kenyon, laughing; "and they'd tell him to go on and prosper, but they would not fight."
"No, they would not fight," said the doctor musingly.
"Do you think there is a regular conspiracy?"
"I really do sometimes, and it makes me uneasy."
"That is because you are a young married man, and fidget about your wife."
"Well, and quite naturally."
"Yes, quite naturally, of course; but when you have been here as long as I have, you will not be so nervous."
"I don't think I am nervous, Kenyon; but it would be very horrible if there should be a rising amongst the people."
"Horrible, but not likely, my dear sir."
"But if there were? I suppose I am right in looking upon ourselves as being favourites."
"Certainly."
"Well, then, should we not be among the first whom the people would attack?"
"That is quite possible, but I suppose we should defend ourselves, and be defended as well by the people who remained staunch."
"I have thought of all that, but if trouble did come it would be sudden and unexpected, and we should be taken by surprise."
"We might be, or we might have ample warning. I think the latter, for these people are very open and wanting in cunning."
"But don't you think we—or say you—having so much influence with the
King, would do wisely if you warned him—told him of our suspicions?"
"No, I think not," said Mr. Kenyon.
"Why?"
"Because, quiet and studious as the King is, he happens to be very acute and observant. I feel certain that nothing goes on in the city without his being fully aware of it; and though he seems to take very little notice, I am pretty sure that nothing important takes place except under his eye, or which is not faithfully reported to him by one or other of his councillors."
"Perhaps you are right," said the doctor, "and I have been unnecessarily nervous."
"I feel sure that you have been. I would speak to him, but he might look upon it as an impertinent interference on my part in connection with private family matters. Take my advice, and let it rest. We should have ample warning and ample protection, I feel sure. But I am glad you spoke out, all the same. But bah! nonsense! You would not be hurt—you, the doctor who has done so much good among the poor people. Why, doctor, they look upon you as something more than man: they idolize you."
"For the few simple cures I have effected."
"Few? Hundreds."
"Well, hundreds, then. But what has it done?"
"Made you friends with every one in the city."
"Made me a number of bitter enemies, sir. Why, the native doctors absolutely hate me. My word! I should not like to be taken ill and become helpless. They'd never let me get well again if they had the doctoring."
"Don't be too hard on them," said Mr. Kenyon.
"Not I, my dear sir. I only speak as I think. So you would not take a step in our defence?"
"Not until we were certain that it was necessary; then as many as you like. Steps? I'd make them good long strides. But say no more: the boys are coming back, and we don't want to set them thinking about such things."
In effect, steps were heard in the verandah, and a few minutes later
Harry hurried into the museum again.
"Well, boy!" cried the doctor. "What is it? you look hot."
"Tiger," said Harry eagerly.
"Where?" cried Mr. Kenyon and his visitor in a breath.
"Over yonder, by the new sugar plantation," cried Harry. "Jumped on a man and killed him. Sree has just heard the news. He told me and Phra."
"How horrible!" said Mr. Kenyon.
"Yes, and the village people sent a messenger to Sree. They want the brute killed, and we're going to have an expedition and destroy the wretch."
"Indeed?" said Mr. Kenyon drily.
"You and Mr. Cameron will come with us, of course, father?" said Harry, who was too much excited to notice the glances exchanged between the merchant and his visitor; "but I should like to have first shot, and kill the beast."
"No doubt," said the doctor drily; "but I suppose you would not wish us to give up our chances if the tiger came out our way?"
"Oh no, of course not," said Harry. Then turning to Mr. Kenyon, "You will try the new rifles the King sent to you, will you not, father?"
"When I go tiger-hunting," said Mr. Kenyon drily.
Harry felt damped by his father's manner.
"But you will go now, father?"
"What, and walk the tiger up like one would a partridge?" said Mr. Kenyon. "Certainly not, and you are not old and experienced enough yet to go tiger-shooting. It requires a great deal of nerve."
"Oh, but I don't think I should feel frightened, father."
"Perhaps not; but you would be too much excited, and might shoot the doctor. We could not spare him, Hal."
"I shouldn't, father. You taught me how to handle a gun, and if I can do that I ought to be able to handle a rifle."
"Possibly; but, as Mr. Cameron will tell you, we could not risk going on foot."
"We're not going on foot, father," cried Harry excitedly. "We're going to have two elephants, and you and doctor could go on one, and Phra and I on the other."
"Oh, that alters the case," said Mr. Cameron eagerly.
"Has the King offered to lend us elephants?" said Mr. Kenyon.
"No, father, but he will," said Harry. "Phra has gone to tell him, and he is sure to say we may have them."
"Indeed? I doubt it."
"He always lets Phra and me have anything we ask for."
"Yes, he is very indulgent to you both, my boy—too much so sometimes; but I notice that there is a certain amount of wisdom in what he does. What about the rifles?"
"Well, he gave us the rifles, father."
"With certain restrictions, Hal. They were to be placed in my charge, and I was to decide when it would be right for you to use them."
"Oh yes, father, he did say that."
"Yes, and I think it was not until you and Phra had been waiting nearly two years that they were sent."
"It was a long time, certainly," agreed Harry.
"The King is a wise man in his way, and I feel pretty sure that he will refuse to lend the elephants. What do you say, Cameron?"
"I agree with you."
"What, and let the tiger lurk about that great plantation and keep on killing the poor fellows who are hoeing?" cried Harry indignantly. "I'm sure he wouldn't; he's too particular about protecting people."
"He will most likely get up a big hunt to destroy the tiger," said the doctor; "but I don't believe he will let you two boys go."
"Oh!" cried Harry, who seemed as if he could hardly contain himself in his keen disappointment; "any one would think it was wicked and contemptible to be a boy. One mustn't do this and one mustn't do that, because one is a boy. One mustn't do anything because one is a boy. It's always, 'You are too young' for what one wants to do. Oh," he cried passionately, "who'd be a boy?"
"I would, for one," said the doctor, laughing.
"I don't believe it, doctor," cried Harry. "You wouldn't like to be always kept down."
"Perhaps not; boys never do. They're too stupid."
"What!" cried Harry.
"Too stupid," said the doctor again, while Mr. Kenyon lay back in his creaking cane chair with his eyes half closed, listening, with an amused expression of countenance. "Why, I was as stupid as you are, Hal, at your age."
"But you did not think so," retorted Hal.
"Of course I did not. I did not know any better. I could not see that by being a thorough boy for so many years, and being boyish and thinking as a boy should think, I should naturally grow into a thorough manly man."
"I don't quite understand you, sir," said Harry rather distantly.
"But I'm speaking plainly enough, Hal. Come, confess, my lad; you want to be a man, and to be treated as if you were one?"
Harry hesitated.
"Speak out frankly, sir," said Mr. Kenyon sternly.
"Well, of course I do," said the lad.
"And you can't see that if we treated you as you wish to be treated," said the doctor earnestly, "that we should be weak, foolish, and indulgent, for we should be doing you harm?"
"Oh, Mr. Cameron, what nonsense!"
"Think of this some day in the future, Hal, my lad," said the doctor warmly, "and you will find then that it is not nonsense. Look here, my lad, a boy of seventeen, however advanced and able he may be in some things, is only a boy."
"Only a boy!" said Harry bitterly.
"Yes, only a boy; a young, green sapling who must pass through years before he can grow naturally into a strong, muscular man. Some boys fret over this and the restraints they undergo, because of their youth, and want to be men at once—want to throw away four or five of the golden years of their existence, and all through ignorance, because they are too blind to see how beautiful they are."
"You told me all that once before, Mr. Cameron."
"Very likely, Hal, for I am rather disposed to moralize sometimes. But it's quite true, my lad."
"Yes." said Mr. Kenyon, "it's true enough, Hal, for boys are wonderfully boyish. Naturally, too, my lad," he added, with a laugh. "But there, don't build any hopes upon this expedition, for I should certainly shrink from letting you go."
"Oh, father, I would be so careful, and I'll believe all Doctor Cameron said and won't want to be a man till I am quite grown up. I'll be as boyish as I can be."
"I think I'd shrink from any promises of that kind, Hal," said the doctor, smiling. "Don't tie yourself down to rules of your own invention. Look here, aim at being natural, at hitting the happy medium."
"I suppose that's the unhappy medium for the boy, isn't it?"
"Not at all, my lad; it's the way to be happy. Leave it to Nature; she will set that right. Don't be too boyish, and don't aim at being an imitation man—in other words a prig. Be natural."
"Yes," said Mr. Kenyon; "the doctor's right, Hal. Be natural, and you will not be far wrong there."
"I always am as natural as I can be," said Harry, throwing himself into action, and looking as gloomy and discontented as a boy could look; "but no one gets to be so disappointed and sat upon as I am."
Mr. Kenyon's brow clouded over, but he said nothing.
"So sure as I set my mind upon anything I'm sure to be balked."
"Poor fellow!" said the doctor gravely.
"Yes, Doctor, it's all very well for you to make fun of me. You can do just as you like."
"Of course," said the doctor gravely, "and I see that does make a difference. One sees things from such a different point of view."
"Yes, that you do," said Harry.
"Exactly," continued the doctor slowly, "and you see, as you say, I do exactly as I like, have everything I wish for, never suffer the slightest trouble, enjoy the most robust health, am as rich as a man need wish to be; in fact, I am the happiest man under the sun."
"Are you, Doctor?" said Harry. "I'm glad of it. I didn't know it was so good as that."
"And, of course, that is about how you'd like to be, eh, Hal?"
"Well," said the boy, hesitating, "something like that—I—er—I—I don't want to be greedy."
"Don't want to be greedy?" cried the doctor, changing his manner, as he sprang up and began to pace the museum. "Why, you miserable, discontented young cub! There is not one boy in a thousand leads such a life as you do: a good home, surrounded by friends, with plenty of time for study, and plenty of time for the necessary amusement. Yours, sir, is an ideal life; but it has spoilt you, and I'm afraid it is from having a too indulgent father."
"Oh, come, Cameron, I must speak in my own defence," said Mr. Kenyon.
"And you ought to speak in mine too, father," cried Harry indignantly, as he gazed at the doctor with blazing eyes and flaming cheeks.
"I can't, Hal," said his father, smiling; "there's so much truth in what he says, my boy, and your words were uncalled for—unjust."
"I beg your pardon, Kenyon," said the doctor; "I had no business to speak as I did. I had no right. But I'm such a hot-headed Scotsman, and Master Hal here put me out."
"There is no begging pardon needed," said Mr. Kenyon quietly.
"You see, I could not help comparing Hal's lot with mine—a poor, raw lad on the west coast who lived on potatoes and porridge, with a broiled herring or haddie once in a way for a treat. But there, once more, I had no right to interfere."
"I say, granted, and thanks."
"Then I shan't beg your pardon, Hal, boy," cried the doctor, "for I honestly believe what I say is the truth. Take it all as so many pills, and if you'll come along the river to my place to-morrow morning I'll give you a draught as well—to do you good, my dear boy—to do you good."
"I think I've had physic enough," said Harry sulkily.
"And you don't seem to like the taste, eh?" said the doctor, laughing. "Never mind; it will, as people say, do you good. You will be sure to have some bit of luck to take the taste out of your mouth—a bit of sugary pleasure, my lad. Aha! and here it comes in the shape of friend, Phra, the prince, who, king's son as he is, does not enjoy a single advantage more than you."
"Doctor!" cried Harry indignantly. "He has only to speak to have everything he wants. No one could be better off than he is. Look, he's in a hurry to tell us all about the expedition for to-morrow. Oh, it is so disappointing, for I wanted so badly to shoot a tiger. It set me longing when Phra and I looked at those skins to-day."
"Dear me! what a thirst for blood you are developing, Hal!" said the doctor, as Mr. Kenyon still sat back in his chair, looking pained, while his son carefully avoided gazing in his direction. "I should have thought you had killed enough for one day."
"Well, Phra?" cried Harry, as his companion came straight in.
"Well?" said the boy, with a mocking smile.
"What did your father say?"
Phra was silent for a few moments, and then he spoke quietly.
"That I was too much of a boy yet to think of going after tigers," said the lad slowly, and then he started and frowned. For the doctor had thrown himself back in one of the cane chairs, which gave vent to a peculiar squeaking noise, while its occupier rocked himself to and fro, literally roaring with laughter.
"I am very sorry if I have said some ridiculous thing, sir," said Phra gravely. "I speak English as well as I can."
"Ridiculous thing!" cried the doctor, springing up and seizing the young Siamese by the shoulders; "why, it was splendid. Look at him," he cried, half-choking with laughter, "look at Hal! Oh, dear me, how you have made my sides ache!"
"But I don't understand," said Phra.
"Then you soon shall," cried the doctor. "My lord there has been in a tantrum because—because—oh, dear me, I shall be able to speak directly."
Phra looked in a puzzled way from the laughing doctor to his friend, who sat frowning and biting his lips.
"Because," continued the doctor, "Mr. Kenyon here has told him that he should not like him to go to the tiger hunt."
"Mr. Kenyon told him so?" cried Phra quickly.
"Yes, because he is too young."
"Oh, I am so glad," cried Phra, showing his white teeth.
Harry started as if he had received a blow.
"What!" he cried fiercely.
"I say I am so glad, because that is just what my father said to me."
"And very wisely too, Phra, my boy," said Mr. Kenyon, rising. "You lads had better wait a bit longer before you indulge in a sport which is very risky even to one mounted upon an elephant, especially if the elephant is timid. I have known several bad accidents occur through the poor creature becoming unmanageable from a wounded beast's charge."
"It's disappointing, sir," said Phra; "but I suppose father's right."
"Of course he is, and I'm glad to see you take it so wisely."
The speaker laid his hand on the doctor's arm, and they went out into the verandah.
"Ah, Kenyon, you spoil that boy with indulgence."
"Think so?"
"Yes; I don't like to hear a lad like that speak as he did to you. It was that made me fire up. But there, I'm sorry if I've done wrong."
"You have not done wrong," said Mr. Kenyon, "and I am rather glad you spoke as you did. But you do not understand Hal so well as I do."
"Naturally I do not."
"He is a queer boy, with a good many things about him that I don't like; but he has some oddities that I do like. I dare say he will display one of them before you go."
"He will have to be quick about it, then," said the doctor, smiling, "for I have not much longer to stay."
"Plenty of time for him to show the stuff he is made of. I'm sorry to disappoint the boys, though."
"And ourselves too, for I should have liked the jaunt, and the more of those savage beasts we can destroy the better. What do you say to going over to the palace and asking the old gentleman to let us have the use of the elephants and beaters?"
"No," said Mr. Kenyon, "I could not do that under the circumstances.
It would be too hard upon the boys. Yes, Michael?"
"There is a man from—one of the gentlemen from the King to see you, sir," said the man.
"Indeed? I will come. Come too, Cameron; I daresay it will interest you."
The messenger had come to ask Mr. Kenyon if he would take charge of a little expedition to be made against a tiger that had been destroying life in the neighbourhood, and to say that as matters were so serious the King would be greatly obliged if he would go.
"I don't like to say No, and I don't want to say Yes," said Mr.
Kenyon.
"I do not see how you can refuse."
"Neither do I," said Mr. Kenyon thoughtfully, and he sent a note back, promising to undertake the task.
Hardly had the messenger departed before Harry came hurriedly into the room, but started on seeing the doctor there.
"I thought you had gone, sir," he said. "I made sure I heard the door swing to."
"No, I have not gone, Hal," said the doctor, smiling good-humouredly; "but I'll soon be off, if you want to speak to your father alone."
"I did, sir; but it doesn't matter your being here."
"What is it, Hal?" said Mr. Kenyon gravely.
"Wanted to tell you I feel horribly ashamed of myself, father," said
Harry quickly.
"Indeed?"
"Yes, it seems so queer that such a chap as Phra should behave like a gentleman over a bit of disappointment, while I—I—well, I behaved like a disagreeable boy."
"But very naturally, Hal," said the doctor. "Better than acting like a make-believe man."
"Thank you, Hal," said Mr. Kenyon quietly, holding out his hand. "Has
Phra gone?"
"No, father."
"Tell him that his father has sent requesting me to take charge of an expedition against the tiger, and that I am sorry I cannot ask you two lads to go with me."
"All right, father; he won't mind. I don't now."
Harry nodded at the doctor, and went out of the room, while his father waited till his steps had ceased, and a door had swung to.
"Odd boy, isn't he, Cameron?" said Mr. Kenyon then.
"Very odd chap," replied the doctor. "But I like boys to be odd like that."
CHAPTER VIII
A PROWL BY WATER
It was disappointing and hard for two boys to bear, situated as they had been—singled out by the old hunter as the first receivers of the news; but they had determined to be heroic over it, and after a fashion they were.
"Don't let's seem to mind it the least bit in the world, Phra," Harry said.
"What shall we do? go up the river?"
"Go up the river? No. Let's see them start, and help them with their guns when they mount the elephants. They'll be watching to see how we look, and we're going to puzzle them."
"But will not that look queer?"
"I dunno," said Harry, "and I don't care; but that's what I've made up my mind to do. What do you mean to do?"
"The same as you do," said Phra firmly.
The result was that at the time appointed Harry walked up to the court by the palace main entrance, shouldering one of the rifles, and there his heart failed him for a moment or two, but he was himself again directly.
For the sight of the two huge elephants with their howdahs, and their mahouts with their legs hidden beneath the huge beasts' ears, each holding his anchus—the short, heavy, spear-like goad with hook which takes the place of whip, spur, and reins, in the driving of the huge beasts—was almost too much for him.
There was a party, too, of pretty well fifty spearmen to act as beaters, some of whom were furnished with small gongs. Altogether it formed a goodly show, and it sent the sting of disappointment pretty deeply into the boys' breasts, so that they had to bear up bravely to keep a good face on the matter.
The King was there to see the start made, after Mr. Kenyon, with Sree for his attendant, had mounted one of the elephants by means of a bamboo ladder, the doctor and a trusted old hunter in the King's service perching themselves upon the other.
Then the King wished them both good fortune, the word was given, and half the spearmen marched off in front; the elephants at a word from their mahouts shuffled after, side by side, and the remainder of the spearmen followed, passing out of the gateway.
The King said a few words to the boys, and then retired, leaving them alone in the yard with the armed men on guard.
"Shall we follow them part of the way?" said Phra then.
"No, that wouldn't do," replied Harry. "It was right to come and show that we weren't going to mind; but if we followed now, I know what my father would think."
"What?" said Phra abruptly.
"That we were following in the hope of being asked to get on the elephants. It would be too mean."
"Yes," said Phra, "of course. I did not think of that. Well, what shall we do?"
"I dunno. Lie down and go to sleep till they come back; that's the best way to forget it all."
"Bah! I'm not going to do that. I know: get over the river in a boat, and go and see the big Wat."
"What for? Who wants to see the old place again, with its bonzes, with their yellow robes and shaven heads?"
"We could go up the great tower again."
"Nice job to climb all the way up those steps in a hot time like this!
What's the good?"
Phra looked at him and smiled.
"You could take the telescope up, and see for miles."
"But I don't want to carry that lumpy thing up those hundreds of steps."
"I'd carry it."
"But I don't want you to carry it, and I don't want to see for miles. I can see quite as much as I want to-day without the telescope. I don't feel as if I want to see at all. It was quite right, I suppose, for us to be left at home, and proper for us to come and make a show of not minding; but now the excitement's all over, and they're gone, I feel just as if I could howl."
"What! cry?" said Phra wonderingly.
"No—ooo! Howl—shout with rage. I want to quarrel with some one and hit him."
"Well, quarrel with and hit me."
"Shan't. I should hurt you."
"Well, hurt away. I won't hit back."
"Then I shan't be such a coward. Here, I know: I'll go and take that chap's spear away, and break it."
He nodded his head towards one of the guards on duty close to the entrance of the palace.
"What for?"
"Because I'm in a rage," said Harry between his teeth. "Oh, I could do that, and then run at another and knock him down, and then yell and shout, and throw stones at those great vases, and break the china squares over the doorway. I feel just like those Malay fellows must when they get in one of their mad tempers and run amok."
"Why don't you, then?" said Phra mockingly.
"Because I can't," cried Harry bitterly.
"Can't? Why, it would be easy enough. You could go and break the spears of all the guards, and take their krises away. They wouldn't dare to hurt you, seeing what a favourite you are with my father."
"I know all that," said Harry, snapping his teeth together.
"Then why can't you do it?" said Phra mockingly. "Go on; run amok."
"Shan't—can't."
"Why can't you?"
"Because I'm English, and I've got to fight it all down, and I'm going to, savage as it makes me feel. Here, what shall we do?"
"Go right up to the highest window in the big tower of the Wat over yonder, and take the telescope up with us."
"I tell you I don't want to. There's nothing to see there that we haven't seen scores of times."
"Yes, there is."
"No, there isn't."
"Yes, there is, I tell you."
"Well, what is there?"
"We could watch and follow them with the glass nearly all the way to the new sugar plantation, and perhaps see the tiger hunt."
Harry started excitedly, and caught his friend by the arm.
"So we could," he said, with his face lighting up. "I needn't go back for our glass; you could get one from your father; he'd let you have that if he wouldn't let you have the elephants."
"Yes. Shall I fetch it?"
"No," cried Harry sharply; "I won't take any more notice of the hunting; we'll do something else."
"But you'd like to see it," said Phra.
"Of course I should, but I won't. There."
"But it's like—what do you call it when you're doing something to hurt yourself?"
"Hurting myself," said Harry bluntly.
"No, no, no. Ah, I've got it. Biting your own nose off in revenge of your face."
"All right, that's what I'm going to do—bite it off. I won't watch them going, and I won't take any more notice of the miserable, disappointing business."
"Oh, Hal, what a temper you're in!"
"I know that, but I'm fighting it all the time, and I mean to win."
"But you'll be obliged to be here when they come back."
"No, I shan't; I won't hear them."
"You can't help it; they'll come marching back, banging the gongs and tomtomming and shouting, with the tiger slung on the back of one elephant, and the doctor and your father in the same howdah. Oh, you'll be obliged to come and meet them."
"Yes, I suppose so," said Harry, drawing a deep breath. "If I don't, they'll think me sulky."
"So you are," said Phra, laughing.
"I'm not; no, not a bit, only in a temper."
"I wish the cricket and football things had come."
"I don't believe they ever will come," said Harry. "See what time it is."
"They will come," said Phra gravely.
"How do you know?"
"Because my father said that we should have them. There, you're better now."
"No, I'm not; I'm ever so much worse," said Harry, through his set teeth.
"Well, let's go and kill something; you'll be better then."
"Don't believe I should," replied Harry. "What should we go and kill?"
"I don't know. Let's get the guns and make two of the men row us up the narrow stream, right up yonder through the jungle where the best birds are. Your father would like it if we got some good specimens ready for Sree to skin."
"Very well," said Harry resignedly; "I shan't mind so long as you don't want me to go up the big temple tower to watch them. I say, Phra, I'm beginning to feel a bit better now."
Phra laughed, and the two boys went into the palace, where the former gave an order to one of the servants about a boat, and then led the way to his own room, a charming little library with a couple of stands on one side bearing guns and weapons of various kinds, beside fishing-rods and a naturalist's collecting gear.
"Which gun will you have?" asked Phra.
"Either; I don't care," was the reply; and by the time they were prepared one of the attendants announced that the boat was ready.
They walked down to the great stone landing-place at the river, stepped into the boat, and seated themselves under the little open-sided roof, while their two rowers pushed off, and keeping close in shore, where the eddy was in their favour, sent the boat rapidly on through the muddy water.
For some distance the forest lay back away from the river, while the bank on their right was pretty well hidden by a continuous mass of house-boats, so close together as almost to touch; but at last these were left behind, and the trees on their left began to encroach upon the fields and fruit gardens, where melons, pines and bananas grew in wonderful profusion, and the air was full of life such as would have delighted an entomologist.
By degrees cultivation ceased and the wild jungle came close down to the stream, and in places even overhung and dipped the tips of branches in the water. Now and then, a small crocodile scuffled off the muddy bank and plunged into the river. Fish began to be more plentiful, little shoals showing on the surface, and in two or three places a heavy fellow springing out in pursuit of its prey and falling back with a splash.
Birds, too, began to be seen: tiny parrots whistled and chattered in the trees; a big hawk hovered overhead; and several times over great long-legged waders were disturbed.
But no attempt at firing was made, the two lads sitting quiet and thoughtful beneath their sheltering roof, musing over the expedition, and wondering whether it was being successful.
In imagination Harry seemed to see it all: the men spread out to beat some fairly open space and drive the tiger towards where the two elephants would be stationed some fifty yards apart, with their occupants, rifle in hand, watching for the slightest movement in a clump of bushes or tuft of reeds.
"Oh, what would I not give to be there!" said Harry to himself at last. "I wish I were not such a boy!"
The colour came a little, though, into his cheeks—or it might have been caused by the heat of the sun, at any rate it was there—as he thought of what the doctor had said, and of his own words to his father.
And as these thoughts came, he felt something like shame at his feeling of dissatisfaction with what he had, and his striving after that which he had not.
"I won't be such a dissatisfied donkey," he muttered, and his face looked brighter as he turned sharply to speak to Phra.
His change affected his companion, who brightened up too.
"We're getting close to the mouth of the little river," he said.
"I'm glad of it," said Harry cheerfully. "I say, they have been quick; it's hot work for them."
"Yes," said Phra, "but they'll have a good rest soon while we're going slowly, and there will be nothing to do but steer, going back."
"I say, suppose they get back first with the tiger."
"I hope they will not," cried Phra; "but it isn't likely. They've a long way to go, and the beating will take a long time. We shall be back first. Ugh, you brute!" he whispered, reaching for his gun, cocking both barrels softly, and taking aim at a large crocodile.
Snip! snap! and then a splash, as the reptile disappeared.
"I don't think you have killed it," said Harry seriously, but with his eyes dancing with mischief.
"Ah, you're better," cried Phra pettishly. "You don't want to run amok now. How could I be so stupid! I never thought about not being loaded."
"Better think about it now," said Harry, beginning the operation in the tedious, old-fashioned way that ruled so long before the cartridge was invented for a sportsman's use. "But we were only to shoot birds, I thought."
"Yes, birds, and only beautiful specimens," replied Phra. "I couldn't help being tempted to fire at the brute, though. I shall always be shooting at them now."
"Here we are," said Harry, and at a word from Phra the light sampan was guided into a sluggish side stream only some twenty yards or so wide, while on either side the trees rose like a wall of verdure, the water lapping the leaves, which dipped and played up and down with the motion of the stream.
"You take that side and I'll take this," said Phra; and then giving the order to the rower in front, the man ceased paddling and made his way right astern, to squat down on the little platform beside his fellow, who cleverly propelled and steered the light craft with his one oar, leaving the look-out forward free for the gunners.
"Hullo! How are you, old gentleman?" cried Harry suddenly, as a grey-bearded, venerable-looking little face was suddenly thrust out through the leaves, so that its owner could look down at the strange visitors to his wild home.
There was a sharp chattering, the head of the monkey was drawn back, and then a rustling and waving of the boughs on the left began, going on a little in front.
"There's a whole troop of them travelling along," said Harry.
"Yes, and they'll scare all the birds," cried Phra. "Look, they've startled those lovely parroquets. What's to be done?"
"They'll soon go," replied Harry. "Row away."
The man astern thrust the boat along with his easy, Venice-like manipulation of the oar, and the light boat glided on right in the centre of the beautiful green lane with its watery floor; but the wave as it seemed to be likewise glided along, with a peculiar rustle in the foliage some twenty yards in front.
There was not a sound beside, save when, further ahead, some parroquet darted out with a shriek to cross to the other side of the stream, or a sharp flapping of wings told that it was a dove darting frantically through the twigs to escape from enemies with a great love for eggs, and no objection to savoury, plump morsels in the shape of half-fledged young, by way of change from a fruit diet.
"Let's stop," said Phra, on seeing that the undulation in the green wall on their left kept on at about the same rate.
"Stop, and let them go on?" said Harry. "Very well."
At a word the man ceased paddling, the boat glided on from the impetus already given, but less and less fast, till completely overcome by the stream it was meeting, it gradually came to a standstill, and was on the point of giving way and being borne back, when Harry burst into a hearty laugh, which had the result of making the grey, inquiring face of the monkey that had just peered out, pop back again.
"Row," said Phra, "and keep the boat stationary."
The rower dipped his oar gently, and the boat ceased to retrograde.
"What rum little customers they are!" said Harry, as he watched the place where the grey head had disappeared. "Just like a little old man watching us. Think they're gone now?"
"No; look."
Harry was looking, and saw at the same moment the little face cautiously thrust out again, but withdrawn as he made a threatening movement with his gun.
Then all was perfectly still for a minute.
"Perhaps they're gone now," said Harry.
"No; they are too inquisitive. I daresay there are fifty of them hidden in among the boughs."
"I think they're gone," said Harry at the end of another minute.
"Well, try. Go on," said Phra, and the oar was once more silently plied, gently disturbing the water, while at the same moment the wave in the trees began again, with its gentle rustling, showing that the monkey troop was once more travelling along just in front, scaring the birds away as they advanced.
The boat was stopped again, and the monkeys followed suit, the same curious old face peering cautiously out and watching.
The boat went on, so did the monkeys; and this was repeated over and over again, stopping and going on, the wave in the trees seeming to be so exactly influenced by the rowers' agitation of the water that it was as if one touch moved both water and leaf.
"Well, they are comical little beggars," cried Harry, who was once more in the highest of spirits. "I say, old man, just take your friends away; we're going shooting. Do you hear?"
The little head popped in out of sight, but as the boat did not move it popped out again, as if to find the reason why.
"We shan't get a bird, for they'll keep on like that for miles."
"It's tiresome," said Harry. "Here, I say, if you don't toddle I'll give you pepper."
The gun was raised threateningly as the boy spoke, and the head disappeared.
"He knows English," cried Harry, "and he's an uncommonly sensible old gentleman. Father told me that the country folks at home say rooks can smell powder. So can monkeys, seemingly."
"Country folks at home? What country folks?"
"Not yours; ours, in the old home, England. There, let's get on and begin shooting, or we shall get nothing."
"It doesn't matter," said Phra quietly; "it's very beautiful gliding along without killing things."
"Yes, but as we came to get specimens, let's get a few. I want to, so as to show father and the doctor that we haven't been moping. Row away."
The man smiled, and sent the boat gliding up the bright stream again, for the sun was so nearly overhead that scarcely any shadow was cast on their left.
But the moment the boat moved the wave ran along the trees again, and
Phra laughed aloud at his companion's face.
"Yes, you may laugh, but it's too bad. There, I'll keep my word, though, and as soon as my grey-headed gentleman shows his face I'm going to pepper him with small shot."
"No, you're not," said Phra, laughing. "You don't want him for a specimen."
"No, of course not. I don't want to shoot him. It would be just like killing a little old man. I'll only pepper him so as to scare him and his friends away. They'll spoil all our fun."
"Hi! Look out, Hal!"
There was a great flapping of wings and a loud rushing sound, as two large birds dashed out from where the troop of monkeys were passing, to fly across the river to the trees on the other side. But before they were two-thirds of the way across a couple of reports followed rapidly one after the other, and the birds fell in the water, which one of them beat with its wings for a few moments, and then became motionless, floating down towards the boat, which was dexterously driven on to meet them.
The birds were carefully lifted in, and with their plumage smoothed down, laid in a kind of locker, proving to be a finely developed pair of the great hornbills, no beauties as far as feathering was concerned, but singular as specimens, from the enormous development of their bills, and the great addition in form which has earned for them the sobriquet of rhinoceros.
"That's capital," said Harry. "Father was saying he wanted a good specimen or two, for ours were very poor."
The boys were loading again now, and the boat was once more advancing.
"The monkeys did not drive those away," said Phra.
"No; just drove them out right for us. Did as well as dogs, but—Hullo! where are they?"
The boys stared up at the great green wall on their left, but the trees were motionless in the hot sunshine, not a leaf stirring, the only movement visible being in one spot where a gigantic wreath of some flowering creeper hung down from far on high, spreading to the sunshine hundreds of trumpet-shaped white blossoms, and among these somewhere about a score of tiny sun-birds were hovering and darting, the brilliant, metallic, scale-like plumage of head and breast looking as if the diminutive creatures wore helmet and gorget of wonderfully tinted and burnished metals, others approaching in lustre the polish of brilliant gems.
It was a beautiful sight as the little creatures darted about, their rapidly beating wings almost invisible, but giving the birds the appearance of being surrounded by a soft haze. Here one would be apparently motionless beneath a hanging blossom, into which its long thin beak was thrust to probe the nectar like a gigantic bee. There a couple would be engaged in chase and flight, with flash after flash of metallic light reflected from the surface of their plumage as they darted about in full career, turning different portions of their plumage to the sun's rays. Again one would seem to be of the most sober colours, almost dingy, till it moved, and then as it caught the light at some other angle it flashed into a thing of beauty, dazzling in its tints of ruby, sapphire, and purple.
The boys had seen these tiny representatives of the humming birds in the New World scores of times, but always found satisfaction in watching them, and for the time being the monkeys were forgotten.
"What a chance!" said Harry, as the boat was sent in close to the burdened tree without disturbing the sun-birds in the least. "If father wants any more specimens of these, we couldn't come to a better place."
"But next time we come by, that bush will not be in flower, and there will be no sun-birds there."
"But they would be somewhere else," said Harry philosophically. "Look at that one with the red band across his breast. What a beauty! I say, next time we want any I vote that we don't shoot them with sand or water, but try a butterfly net."
"Couldn't reach," said Phra.
"Could if we had it at the end of a long bamboo."
"No," said Phra decisively; "you could not handle it quickly enough then. It would be too clumsy, and the bird would be as quick again. Couldn't do it, Hal."
"S'pose not," said the boy thoughtfully. "I say, look at that one with the rose-coloured head."
"Am looking at it. I don't think I ever saw such a beauty."
"Oh dear!" said Harry, with a deep sigh.
"What's the matter?"
"I was thinking what poor, stupid things our stuffed skins are. They don't look a bit like these tiny beauties all in motion, and seeming to be a fresh colour every time they move. They're so soft and round, and so quick. And see how they fly, too. I say, Phra, it seems a shame to shoot them."
"Horrible! Nothing could be more beautiful," said Phra, thoughtfully.
"Humming-birds are more beautiful," observed Harry.
"Ever seen any?"
"No, but my father says they are. He has seen them stuffed, and they are so beautiful then that they must be wonderfully lovely alive."
"Let's go on," said Phra thoughtfully. "Perhaps we shall get another shot or two, in spite of the monkeys."
The man set the boat gliding on again, and Harry sat with his gun cocked, waiting to see the little grey face peer out from among the leaves.
"I wouldn't pepper him, Harry," said Phra.
"Not going to," was the reply. "I've only put some powder to frighten him."
"That's right; but I don't see anything moving."
"They'll show themselves directly. Then we'll stop, and when the little old fellow shows his face I'll fire."
But the shots already fired had been sufficient, sending the troop away through the trees at the quickest pace they could command, and the two boys looked in vain.
Soon after, they had capital chances at different kinds of parrots, but did not lift their guns, these birds being abundant, and the little museum amply supplied with their skins; but upon coming abreast of an opening, the boat stopped, for it seemed a likely place for something novel.
"Hist!" whispered Phra, pointing. "That's a bird you've not shot yet."
"Yes, like the one you missed that day. Let me try for this one.—How tiresome! it's gone in beneath the bushes."
It was evidently a bird of secretive habit, for it had dived into a dense place; but just as Harry was about to give up, and tell the man to go on, the bird came into sight again, rose from the top of a low tree, and was in the act of flying across the opening, when Harry raised his gun quickly and fired.
"Down?" he said. "I couldn't see for the smoke."
"No," said Phra; "it flew right away yonder."
"Oh, it couldn't; I took such a careful aim. Did you see it?" he asked the men.
They both replied in the affirmative, and Harry looked puzzled.
"It seems queer," he said, beginning to reload his gun. "I don't know how I could have missed."
"I know," cried Phra. "You loaded to frighten the monkey."
"And did not put any shot in!" cried Harry. "Oh, how stupid!"
At that moment Phra raised his gun and fired at a similar bird, as it crossed the river, and dropped just at the edge of the opening.
A turn or two of the oar sent the boat alongside, the bird was retrieved, and Harry was in ecstasies with its beautiful shades of turquoise blue, pale drab, and grey.
"It's the kind father was saying he was so eager to get a specimen of," cried Harry. "Do you think any more will come if we wait?"
"I don't think so," was the reply; "but let's try."
They waited for half an hour, but not another bird appeared, and they went on, having the luck to bring down one of the lovely ground thrushes at the next opening.
After this Phra shot one of the scarlet-breasted trogons, a beautiful insect-eating bird, nearly allied to our goatsuckers and cuckoos, with, in addition to its rosy, scarlet breast, a delicate pencilling of grey and black, while the greater part of its back was of a fine metallic green.
Flycatchers with inordinately long tails were the next trophies, and Harry was beginning to think that enough had been secured for Sree to skin and preserve, when Phra pressed his companion's arm, and pointed to what looked like a streak of vivid blue being drawn in the air just above the water.
It was too far off to fire, so the boys strained their eyesight to note where the beautiful object settled, but without result, so the boat was urged gently forward, and, finger on trigger, the boys watched the spot where they had last seen the bird.
"It has a splendid tail, Hal," said Phra, in a whisper. "You had better fire."
"No, you; it's a beauty."
"Then you fire; you are so much surer than I am. I'll hold my shot in case you don't bring it down."
They were in momentary expectation of seeing the bird rise to continue its flight up the watery way; but there was no sign of it, and the lads were getting in despair, when there was a flash from a spot least expected. Phra, in his excitement at seeing it going away without Harry getting a good view of it, fired, though it seemed to be too late. However, the bird fell into the river, and another rose at the report, skimmed along just above the surface, and was getting almost beyond range, when Harry drew trigger, and the bird dropped.
"I shan't shoot any more to-day," said Harry excitedly, as the two birds were retrieved and laid for their plumage to dry, being two perfect specimens of the racket-tailed kingfisher, whose azure adornments render it one of the most lovely birds of that part of the world. "I say, what beauties! We have done well."
"We've shot those bird often," said Phra, as he raised one of the kingfishers by the beak, and drew it softly through his hand, removing part of the water which remained, and straightening the produced feathers of the tail, each with its narrow almost naked shaft ending in a lovely blue ellipse of web. This done, he laid the damp bird in the sunshine to dry, adding, "But I don't think we ever shot better specimens, or hurt the plumage so little."
A low, hissing noise drew the boys' attention to the man who was not rowing, and, as he caught their eyes, he pointed to something in one of the overhanging trees.
"What is it?" said Harry; "I can't see;" and he cocked his piece, quite forgetting his words of a short time before.
"Only nests," said Phra; "we don't want them."
In effect there was a cluster of about a dozen pensile nests, formed like a chemist's retort by the clever bird-weavers, and hanging neck downward from the ends of thin branches, where they were perfectly safe from the intrusion of active, long-armed monkeys.
There was, in fact, something attractive at every few yards, for when birds were not in sight magnificent butterflies or day-flying moths came flitting out of the openings into the forest, one of which was the atlas, as much as ten inches across the wings.
And now the tension of seeking for choice specimens being over, the boys sat back carelessly, watching the various objects which came into view. Now it would be fish, temptingly suggestive of the sport that might be had up this lovely stream, did they feel disposed to bring tackle. A little farther on the boat was stopped for a cluster of beautiful orchids to be secured, but they were rejected on account of their being inhabited by a colony of virulent ants.
"I say," said Harry suddenly, "this would be just the place for fireflies. Let's tell Dr. Cameron, and we'll have a trip up some night. We might shoot some of the queer night birds."
"Yes," said Phra, "and something else too. There are tigers up here, they say."
"So much the better. We should get a chance to shoot one then by accident. I say, where should we come to if we kept right on as far as the river ran?"
"To the place it started from."
"Well, I know that; but where is it?"
"Oh, it's all our country. There are mountains there, and plenty of elephants, Sree says."
"Let's have an expedition right up then, and bring a tent and plenty of provisions. We ought to be able to get all kinds of new specimens."
"I'm willing," said Phra; "but hadn't we better turn back now?"
"Think they will be coming back from the tiger hunt?"
"Most likely. I say, Hal, it hasn't been a bad time, has it?"
"No," said Harry with a sigh. "Tell him to go back."
At the order the man who had been resting returned to the fore part of the boat, and seized his oar, making that the stern now, while his companion laid in his oar, and squatted down for his rest.
"Hullo! look!" cried Harry; "there's another of those queer-looking old chaps," and he nodded in the direction of the other side of the river, where it was evident that a fresh troop of the quaint little animals were travelling along in the trees. They were going up the river, but as soon as they found that the boat was retiring they at once altered their direction, and the foliage waved and trembled as they kept alongside, travelling through the dense jungle about five-and-twenty feet above the ground, and very rarely giving the occupants of the boat a chance of seeing their lithe, active forms.
How far these eager, inquisitive little fellows would have followed them, if left undisturbed, it is impossible to say; but after watching their movements and the eager, excited face of their leader for some time, Harry grew tired of their company.
"Send a shot over them, Phra," he cried.
The boy raised his gun, pistol fashion, in the air, and fired it, while Harry watched the wall of verdure.
Just as the gun was fired the little old face of the leader was being reached out from the extremities of the boughs, the monkey holding on in what proved to be a very precarious position, for the suddenness of the report frightened it out of its small wits, and made it give such a bound that the next moment, collapsed into what looked like a ball fringed with white, it came rushing through the leaves, splash into the water, making the occupants of the boat roar with laughter.
"What is fun to you is death to us," said the frogs to the boys, in the fable, and this was nearly the case with the monkey.