For as soon as the rower saw the beginning of the mishap he gave a tremendous sweep with his oar, changing the direction of the boat and giving it greater speed at the same time, so that it might glide in close to where the trees dipped, and pick up the monkey before it was drowned or succeeded in dragging itself up.
The movement was cleverly conceived and carried out, but it had a different culmination from that which was expected.
Full of excitement now, the boys were watching for the monkey to rise from its deep plunge, and so well had the boatman judged his distance that the swiftly moving prow was within a yard of the little unfortunate when it rose to the surface.
At the same moment the gaping, teeth-armed jaws of a crocodile shot out of the water, and the next would have closed upon the delicate mouthful, had not the prow of the sampan struck the reptile full on the shoulder with a tremendous shock which made the boat quiver, while from the shape of the prow and the force with which it was going, the boat rose and scraped right over the reptile's back, gliding down on the other side amidst a tremendous turmoil in the water.
The boys held on by the sides, fully expecting to be capsized, but not a drop of water was shipped, and when they turned to look back it was to see that the unoccupied man had snatched at the monkey and lifted it on board, while the crocodile, a creature of about twelve or fourteen feet long, was lashing the water into a foam with its tail.
"Here, take us back," cried Harry. "I must have a shot at that brute."
The man reversed the movement of the oar he handled, and the sampan began to glide back.
"Mind!" said Phra excitedly. "It will be horrible if we are capsized."
"I'll capsize him as soon as I get close enough," said Harry between his teeth, and he knelt ready in the boat, as it approached nearer and nearer.
The monkey seemed to be in an utter state of collapse from fear, as it crouched in its captor's lap, huddled into a drenched ball, till it caught sight of the crocodile, when it was literally transformed.
In an instant its eyes were flashing and teeth bare at the sight of its hereditary enemy, the murderer of hundreds of the unfortunates which from time to time played and slipped, or descended to the ends of branches to drink from the river; its dull state of helpless weakness had gone, and before the man who held it could grasp what was about to happen, the little creature uttered a shrieking, chattering cry of anger, bounded to the end of the sampan, and raged at the reptile.
That was enough. The crocodile responded to the angry challenge and monkey-like, violent language apparently being heaped upon it, and made a dash at the sampan; but as it reached the prow the monkey bounded on to the top of the palm-leaf roofing, while, reaching backward, Harry discharged his piece right between the reptile's eyes.
Firing as he did, with the muzzle of his piece not above a yard away, the effect of the charge of small shot was much the same as would have been that of a heavy bullet the diameter of the fowling-piece's bore.
The rower was on his guard too, and as the lad fired he forced the light sampan away so that they were quite clear of the violent blow given by the creature's tail, as it swung itself round and then sank like a stone.
The effect upon the monkey was again startling to a degree.
At the report of the gun it leapt upward from the roof of the shelter, and instead of coming down in the same place it dropped on all-fours close to Harry, who caught it by one arm.
"Mind," cried Phra warningly; "they can bite very sharply."
"Oh, I don't think he'll hurt, poor little chap," was the reply, and the boy drew his little prisoner close to him, laid down his gun, and patted its shoulder. "Shall we keep it as a pet?"
"No," said Phra; "it would pine away and die. You must get a young one if you want them to keep."
"Yes, of course," said Harry. "Isn't he comic? I wish I'd got something to give him. He's ready to make friends."
"So he ought to be," said Phra; "we saved his life. That croc would have swallowed him like we do Doctor Cameron's pills."
"That he would. What a narrow squeak! I say, have you got anything you can give him?"
"No, give him his liberty."
"I'm going to. Poor little wretch, how he shivers! He's too much frightened to bite or do anything. Hi! old gentleman, get up there on the top."
He lifted the monkey up, and it went slowly on to the hot roof, gazing back at its captor with wondering eyes.
"Now run the boat in close to the trees," said Harry, as he patted and stroked the utterly cowed prisoner.
The next moment the open, cabin-like construction was brushing against the palm leaves with a loud, rustling sound.
This seemed to galvanize the little creature into life, and it uttered a loud chick, chick, chack!
This was answered by a chorus from above; for, unnoticed by the occupants of the boat, the trees had been in quiet motion all the while as they glided down.
That was enough; the monkey seized the twigs nearest to it and the next minute had swung itself up out of sight. There was a tremendous chattering, which grew distant as if the troop was hurrying through the trees in one direction, while the boat was gliding swiftly down in the other, and then Harry said laughingly,—
"Well; he might have been a bit more grateful; never so much as said
Thank ye."
"I think he was wonderfully grateful, for he did not bite. I say, though, how careful one has got to be about the crocodiles. I turned quite cold, for I thought we were going over."
"I felt a bit queer," said Harry thoughtfully. "If I were your father
I'd offer a reward for every crocodile that was killed in the river.
They're no good, and they must do a deal of mischief in the course of
the year."
"Let's tell him so," said Phra, smiling. "Perhaps he will."
The journey back was beautiful enough, for they were looking at the long, sunlit course from a different point of view; but it had ceased to interest, for the lads were hungry and tired, glad enough too when the great stone landing-place was reached, and after giving instructions to the men to take in the birds to place them in Mike's charge for transfer to Sree when he returned, they went into the palace, Harry to be Phra's guest over a very hearty, semi-English meal; for the hunters had not returned and there was no temptation for Harry to go home and eat alone when he was warmly pressed to stay where he was, so as to be present when the hunters returned in triumph.
It was growing late by the time they had done, and they strolled out into the court, and then into the beautiful garden, one of the King's hobbies.
It was a lovely moonlight night, with here everything turned to silver, there all looking black and velvety in the shade. The river, too, looked its best, with the moonbeams playing upon its surface; but the boys were growing too weary to admire the beauties around, or to heed the buzzing, croaking, and booming that came from across the river.
"Look here," said Harry at last, "they've gone farther than they meant, and they're not coming back to-night."
"Going to camp out?" asked Phra dubiously.
"Not a doubt about it. Perhaps going to watch through the night for the tiger, with a goat or calf tied up for bait."
"Very likely," said Phra, yawning.
"There, don't turn sleepy like that."
"Can't help it."
"I say, look here; go and tell your father you are coming down to the bungalow to keep me company to-night, because I don't like to be alone."
"No, you stop and sleep here. Then you will not have the bother of walking down there."
"No," said Harry firmly; "father's out, and I'm sure he wouldn't like me to leave the house when he's away. Come and sleep at our place to-night, there's a good chap."
"Very well," said Phra. "Come with me and speak to father."
"All right," said Harry, coolly enough, and they walked through the moonlit garden together, when, as they passed toward the palace, the incongruity of it all seemed to strike the boy, and he laughed softly.
"I say, how comic it all seems! Here's your father a great Eastern king—king over this big country, and yet he's only your father, and I'm going with you to talk to him just as if he was nobody at all."
"But he is," said Phra thoughtfully. "He's very different with other people, but he talks to you, and about you to me, just as if you were a—I mean a boy like I am."
"Well, it's very nice of him," said Harry. "I've never done anything to make him like me. I never went down on my knees and held my hands on each side of my face, and seemed as if I were going to rub the skin off my nose on the ground because he's a great king."
"No; he laughed about it one day, and said that's why he liked you to be my playfellow."
"That's funny, isn't it?"
"No; he said he liked you because you were frank, and manly, and independent."
"Ah," said Harry, after a brief pause, "he doesn't know what a bad one
I can be sometimes."
"Hist!"
"What for?"
"Listen."
"I am listening, but I can't hear anything."
"I can, right away in the distance. Can't you hear?"
"No, nothing but the frogs at the riverside, and the barking of a croc. Yes, I can; something going thump, thump, far away."
"It's the drum. They're marching back with the elephants."
"Hurrah!" cried Harry excitedly. "Well, I am glad, because I should have lain awake ever so long thinking that something had happened, or that father was in danger from the tiger, perhaps. I say, you don't feel sleepy now?"
"Sleepy? No, not a bit. Here, let's get down yonder so as to meet them."
"But they'll be half an hour yet. Look there; the guard has heard the drum."
As he spoke the picturesque beauty of the place was enhanced by the appearance of the guard turning out, bearing lighted torches, some of which were stuck at intervals about the courtyard, throwing up the grotesque figures and carvings abundantly scattered around.
Then more were fetched, and the place became brilliantly lighted for the reception of the King's friends who were bringing the body of the slain tiger in triumph home.
The red glare of the torches mingled strangely with the silvery light of the moon, so that some of the men's spears seemed to be tipped with silver, some with gold; and listening and noting these things the time of waiting soon passed away for the boys, who at last joined a party of a dozen torch-bearers setting off to meet the returning party.
But before they reached the gate Phra stopped short and arrested his friend.
"No," he said in an earnest whisper, "don't let's go. Very likely my father will come out, and he would like us to be near to seem to be honouring and paying him respect."
"Very well," said Harry shortly; for it was against his grain.
"Yes, there he comes," said Phra eagerly, as the palace entrance was lit up by numbers of lanthorn-bearers, and the King came and stood on the terrace to welcome his English friends.
At last the party of spearmen in advance marched in, with the elephants shuffling along side by side behind; but each bore its load the same as when it started, no alteration having been made.
Harry ought to have let the elephants go close up to the terrace and kneel before the King, to whom the result of the hunt should have been first communicated, but in his excitement he forgot all about Court etiquette, and ran up to the side of the nearest beast.
"Well, father, Where's the tiger?" he cried.
"Over the hills and far away," cried the doctor.
"Yes, my boy," said Mr. Kenyon; "we have seen nothing but his pug—the marks of his feet."
CHAPTER IX
NATURALISTS' TREASURES
There were a few words exchanged with the King as the hunters were about to descend, but he bade them keep their seats in the howdahs, saying that they must be very tired, and after ordering the mahouts to take their elephants to the gentlemen's quarters, he bade them good-night and went in.
"Then we must part here, Cameron," said Mr. Kenyon.
"Yes; good-night, and better luck next time."
The doctor's elephant rose and began to shuffle off, its companion following its example and uttering an angry trumpeting sound upon being checked.
"Here, Hal," said Mr. Kenyon, "you may as well ride."
"Yes, of course, father. Good-night, Phra." Then mischievously,
"They'll have to send us if they want that tiger shot."
"Yes, Mr. Kenyon, we don't think much of you and Doctor Cameron as tiger-hunters."
The merchant laughed, as the elephant knelt once more and Harry scrambled up into the howdah, Sree, who was holding on behind, giving the boy a hand. Then there was a heave and a pitch to and fro, and the huge beast was on its legs again, shambling off towards the bungalow, a pleasant enough sight in the moonlight, and welcome enough to Harry, who was pretty well tired out.
"Didn't you see the tiger at all, father?" he asked.
"No, or most likely I should have shot it," replied Mr. Kenyon. "The brute has evidently gone off to the country on the slope of the mountains and saved his stripes this time. What have you been doing with yourself?"
Harry briefly told of his adventures.
"Then you have some decent specimens for me?"
"Yes, father; beauties."
"You have done better than we did, my boy. We have only brought back sore bones. There, I am not in much of a humour for talking to-night; I want a good rest."
"You must be tired, father."
"Yes, too tired to think of anything but sleep. Not quite, though; there are those birds. Sree, can you come first thing in the morning and skin them?"
"Yes, Sahib. I was going to ask if I might come."
No more was said till the elephant had stopped of its own accord at the gateway of the bungalow garden for as soon as it had got over its irritation at being separated from its companion it had gone steadily enough.
After this the mahout was so liberally rewarded that he wanted to get down from the elephant's neck to prostrate himself, and of course was not allowed, but sent back, Harry stopping to watch his great, grey, shambling mount till it disappeared, with Sree still hanging by the back of the howdah.
Breakfast was late the next morning, both the merchant and his son sleeping very soundly; and when at last Harry dragged himself from his light bamboo bedstead and had refreshed himself, not with a good swim in the river,—a luxury too dangerous to attempt,—but by squatting in a large, open tub and pouring jars of cold water over his head, he went out into the verandah, to find Sree just finishing the skin of the last of the birds by painting the fleshy side all over with preserving paste before turning it back and filling it with cotton wool.
"How quick you have been, Sree!" said Harry. "I meant to have come and helped you."
"The young Sahib must have been tired."
"I'm tired now," said the boy, with a yawn. "But I say, they are all good birds, aren't they?"
"Some of the best I have ever seen, Sahib; there is hardly a feather gone. Look at this one," said the man, taking hold of the bird's long, thick beak and giving it a dexterous shake, with the result that the feathers fluffed up and then fell gently back into place, lying so lightly and naturally that it was hard to believe that nothing but the skull, leg and wing bones were left of the little creature which animated the skin so short a time before.
"Beautiful," said Harry, examining it and the others already prepared in turn. "I wish you had been with us, though. We had capital sport."
"Yes, Sahib, I wish I had been with you," said Sree. "My heart felt heavy for you when I found you were not to come. I like to be with the young Sahibs. We had no sport at all."
"Ah, you should have been with us. The crocodile must have been fourteen feet long."
"Ah! but they would not be so big up the little river. I hope, though, the Sahib will not shoot any more."
"Not shoot any more!" cried Harry. "Are you friends with the wretches?"
"No, Sahib," said the man solemnly; "but they are dangerous beasts, and I fear if the young Sahib goes after them much there may be an accident."
"Hardly likely," said Harry contemptuously.
"I don't know, Sahib; they are very dangerous beasts. A hungry mugger, as they call them over yonder on the Ganges, will rush at any one in the water, or try to sweep him off the shore into the river. If he is wounded he is mad with rage, and strikes about furiously with his tail. One hard blow would break or overturn a sampan, and a man in the water is no match for one of these beasts."
"Oh, but I shall be careful, Sree," cried Harry; "and I can't help hating the monsters."
"We all hate them, Sahib, except some of the foolish people who would think it a sin to hurt a crocodile. Do not be rash."
"Oh no, I shan't be rash," said Harry; "but you should have been with us yesterday; it was rare fun with the little grey-whiskered monkey. It was frightened nearly to death, what with the noise of the gun and the fall plump into the water, and the ducking, and then being so nearly snapped up by the crocodile."
"It would be frightened, too, on finding it was a prisoner, Sahib."
"He looked just like a withered-up old man, not much bigger than a baby."
"Yes, Sahib; they are strange little beasts," said Sree, who was still busy with the skins, giving delicate touches here and there to the plumage, with a small needle made of ivory. "I never kill one if I can help it, because they are so much like very wild old men."
"That is a lovely skin, Sree," said Harry, bending over the blue and grey thrush.
"Yes, and these are hard to find, Sahib."
"Father will be delighted with those, I'm sure," said Harry. Then turning off to the old hunter's last remarks, "So you don't like shooting monkeys?"
"No, Sahib, I never do."
"It does seem a shame, for they're such merry, happy-looking little chaps, swinging and playing about in the trees. How they enjoy the fruit, too! They seem to have quite a jolly life."
"Oh no, Sahib; they have their troubles too," said Sree seriously, "and many of them."
"Monkeys do?" cried Harry, laughing. "Why, what troubles can they have?"
"Muggers waiting under the trees to catch any that fall, Sahib."
"Then they ought to know better than to play in the branches which overhang the river."
"That is where the best fruit grows, in the open sunshine, Sahib, and it is often when they go down to drink that the muggers catch them or sweep them into the water with their tails."
"Ugh! the beasts!" cried Harry.
"Then there are the leopards lying in wait up in the trees, and some of the big wild cats, too, staring at them. Monkeys are very quick, but the leopards are sometimes quicker."
"Yes, it's wonderful how active those spotted, cat-like creatures are. I say, Sree, have you ever seen one of the very big monkeys that live in the islands?"
"Only once, Sahib. It was when I went to Borneo with a Sahib from India. We were a long time hunting in the woods before we found one, and then it was high up in a tree, going along hanging by his hands. He seemed to be a very quiet, tame sort of beast, only trying to get away; but the Sahib shot him, and he hung from a great bough, oh, very high up, till the Sahib shot again, and then he let go and came down, dropping from bough to bough till he fell dead, nearly at our feet."
"Was it very big, Sree?"
"Very, very big, Sahib; nearly twice as big as I am."
"Really?"
"Oh yes, Sahib. Not so tall as I am, not higher than the Prince Phra, but so big and broad—big head—big face with great swellings behind the cheeks—big shoulder, and big arms that reached down nearly to his feet. And such hands and feet, Sahib! so big and strong."
"Much like a man, Sree?"
"Like what a wild man might be, Sahib. And yet no, not like a man; he was more like a wild beast, all hairy. The poor people here, some of them, believe that when we die, if we have been wicked we shall turn to monkeys or crocodiles."
"And do you believe that, Sree?"
The man looked up and smiled, as he shook his head.
"Oh no, Sahib; I don't believe anything of the kind. It is all nonsense; but monkeys are very curious little things, and very cunning. They have plenty of sense."
"Think so?"
"Oh yes. Did not you say that the one you caught was angry with the crocodile, and danced about and called him names?"
"Well, he did something of the kind," said Harry, laughing; "and very comical it was."
"Oh yes, Sahib, I've seen them spit at and shout and chatter at the muggers often enough. Being so much in the jungle, watching night and day, I often notice all that the wild things do—birds, snakes, lizards, as well as the tigers and bears and monkeys. I have seen how they fight, and how they play and teach their young ones to play; but there is nothing which can play like a monkey. He is more full of fun than a boy. A monkey always seems to think that another monkey's tail is meant to pull, so as to tease him."
"Yes, I've seen them do that."
"But the funniest thing, Sahib," said the old hunter, "is to see a monkey pull another one's tail, and then pretend that he did not do it. I have seen one put his hand out behind, and give a pull, and then snatch his hand back and shut his eyes, pretending to be asleep."
"Oh, here you are," said Mr. Kenyon, coming into the verandah. "Come,
Hal, breakfast; we are very late."
"Here are the specimens Phra and I got yesterday father."
"These? Capital; excellent! That is the kind of Pitta I wanted so badly, and those two kingfishers will be a splendid addition to the collection. Well skinned too, Sree. They are perfect."
Over the breakfast Mr. Kenyon related their adventures of the previous day; but there was nothing much to tell save of wearisome wanderings here and there through rugged, thorny ground where the tiger's pugs could be traced. Hollows were carefully beaten, and patches of reed and grass driven, while the hunters waited for the coming of the cunning beast which was not there. Then at last they found unmistakable traces of his having gone off, and, weary and disgusted, they had turned back.
Harry Kenyon and his father led a very pleasant life in that curious country, for their position was a favoured one, though a great deal was due to the latter's enterprise.
At first their existence was lonely, but it was not long before their position became a good deal talked about through correspondence which followed their arrival, and by degrees a happy little colony had grown up in the neighbourhood of the palace.
It was entirely at the King's invitation that Mr. Kenyon had first settled there, for being himself a man who took great interest in scientific matters and the wonders of nature, he had by accident come in contact with the merchant, who had sought an interview, with the object of asking certain concessions and leave to trade. The result was that Mr. Kenyon was taken quite by surprise on discovering that the King, whom he had expected to find much on a par with so many of the barbaric chieftains of the East, was a man who cared nothing for war and aggrandisement, neither for decking himself out in diamonds, emeralds, and pearls, but who was dressed in the simplest manner, loved to study chemistry, and surrounded himself with beautifully made microscopes and telescopes, obtained at great expense from London and Vienna.
That one interview was quite enough for the beginning of a friendship, the King soon finding out that his visitor was a man of similar tastes to himself, but immeasurably far in advance, and eager to impart his scientific knowledge to one to whom so many things were enclosed in what seemed to be a sealed-up book of wonder and mystery.
The consequence was that, instead of making a temporary stay in Siam, Mr. Kenyon gladly accepted the monarch's friendship and protection, settling down on the banks of the great river at once.
This had happened ten years before the events narrated here, but all had not been smooth. There had been plenty of the opposition of ignorance; the King's far-seeing brain was almost alone, and his nobles and retainers of the blood royal looked with contempt upon the strange things that took up so much of their ruler's time. To them many of his studies seemed to be mere madness, and they looked at one another and shook their heads when they learned that the King spent the whole of some nights looking through a tube like a big bamboo, at the moon and stars.
Then worse things happened: it was found that he was doing uncanny things, a kind of magic by which he conjured up horrible creatures and made them dance and whirl about in water. He showed favoured people strange demons with teeth and horns and claws in a dark room in the palace, where he made a great white spot of light come on the wall, into which he conjured the aforesaid monsters.
But the worst of all was his fitting up one little room with shelves and cabinets full of bottles and glasses. It was well known that here he studied, by mixing and boiling up, how to make horrible poisons, one drop of which shown to an enemy would produce madness, while if taken it was sudden death. And all this the nobles, priests from the great temples, and wise men generally, in secret conclave, came to the conclusion could only have one meaning, and that was to kill off secretly every one of the blood royal and second king's family, so that no one except the one the King wished could by any possibility succeed to the throne.
It was very dreadful, and they shook their heads more and more, and there were talks about its being a sacred duty to kill such a vile being, and make the second king the first; but so far it had all been talk, for changes are a long time coming about among such people as these.
Then, too, for a long time Mr. Kenyon, this foreigner of the barbarians who came from the far West, was looked upon with sinister eyes, for was he not a favourite with the King, helping him to prepare his magic and his terrible poisons?
But as no one died, and no one seemed to be any the worse for the King's magic, and above all as the great people of the country found that Mr. Kenyon was a very pleasant gentleman, who paid great respect to them and all their institutions, it was settled that he should not be stabbed with krises—unless he behaved worse or did some real harm.
He did offend soon after, for upon settling down he was favoured by the King with a grant of land on the banks of the river, this being looked upon as a great offence, land in such a position having heretofore been reserved for the sole benefit of the great nobles of the land and the priesthood, for their large monastic institutions—great walled-in enclosures of some fifteen or twenty acres, covered with the temples, shrines, and conventual dwelling-places of the talapoins or bonzes, as they were called, and easily enough to distinguish by their closely shaven heads and long, yellow robes. Ordinary people and the poor had to live, according to law, in house-boats, with which the rivers, canals, and backwaters were covered. These waterways were the highways—there were no proper roads—and were thronged with dwelling-places large and small, warehouses, shops, and places of entertainment, all built upon bamboo rafts and moored to the banks, forming a beautifully healthy, populous city, for the tide from the sea swept to and fro, clearing it from all impurities day and night.
That grant of land gave great offence, for who was this strange barbarian who had come among them with his little curly-haired boy and a servant, that he should be treated as if he were a noble lord of the land? And once more Mr. Kenyon's position seemed to be precarious, for the King's favour went farther towards his new English friend and student. For native workmen and material were supplied in abundance, the orders given to the men being that they should build the place, dwelling and warehouses, in accordance with Mr. Kenyon's design.
All this proved a great gain to both, for while Mr. Kenyon prospered wonderfully in his trading ventures, and had ample opportunity for collecting the strange products of the country in connection with his favourite study, the King found his revenues increase and his capital become more enlightened by the introduction of Europeans, who were attracted there through finding that they were protected, treated with respect, and encouraged to trade.
This was forgiven, and all went well till the doctor came, when the native medicos grew alarmed and threatening, for this Englishman, or Scotchman, knew better than they.
As the years went on the friendship grew firmer, and the King gladly seized the opportunity of letting his son share young Kenyon's studies, for his desire was that his boy should become an enlightened ruler, who would carry on his plans for the improvement of the country over which in all probability he would some day reign.
Mr. Kenyon, who was a highly cultivated man, gratefully entered into the King's plans and invited a clever university man from Oxford to come out and act as tutor to the two boys, with the result that the young Prince Phra passed a good half of his existence with Harry at the bungalow, sharing his studies and amusements, while Harry was always as welcome a guest as his father at the palace, having only to express a wish to have it gratified, whether his want took the form of books, fishing tackle, guns, men, elephants or boats for some expedition in jungle or open stream.
Harry's chum was a prince, and to all intents and purposes Harry led the life of a king's son himself, though he did not realize the fact, everything coming quite as a matter of course. His chief trouble had to do with the climate, which was, as he told Phra, "so jolly hot."
Phra replied sadly that he could not help it.
"No," said Harry thoughtfully, "you can't help it; but it's jolly hot all the same."
CHAPTER X
WHAT HARRY HEARD
No more was heard of the tiger, but the boys laughed and talked about it together, for they could not help enjoying the ill-luck which had attended those who went in its chase.
"I know how it is," said Harry, with mock seriousness; "the tiger heard who was coming to shoot him, and he went, off to wait until Prince Phra had grown up old enough to go tiger-hunting in proper style."
"Yes, that's it," said Phra drily. "But you may as well say how you know. The tiger came and told you, I suppose."
"Oh, never mind that," said Harry. "I wish you wouldn't talk about it.
I say, when's that chest coming from London?"
"Don't know; some day," said Phra.
It was pretty well on to half a year from the time of the order being given to the day when the big chest was delivered at the palace, being brought up by one of the royal barges, with its many rowers in scarlet jackets, from the vessel lying at the mouth of the river, right up to the stone landing-place in front of the palace, from which it was borne, attached to a couple of great bamboos, by a dozen men, preceded and followed by guards bearing spears.
"Such a jolly fuss," said Harry, frowning. "Why, you and I could have each taken hold of an end and carried it up to our house and opened it there."
"Well, no," said Phra; "you see, it is my father's, and he is King, and it is only proper for the box to be brought up like this."
"Is it?" said Harry contemptuously. "All right, only I thought the box was for us."
"So it is," said Phra; "but father has not given it to us yet."
"Oh, all right, only it does seem so stupid; and if a lot of English boys could see, I daresay they'd laugh like fun."
"If one of them laughed at my father he'd repent it," said Phra hotly.
"Tchah! They wouldn't laugh at your father. I should like to catch 'em at it! I should have something to say then."
Phra caught his friend warmly by the arm, and his eyes brightened.
"They might, though," said Harry solemnly, "if they saw him sitting under that big umbrella, with his silk padung on, looking like an old woman in a petticoat."
"That he doesn't," said Phra warmly; "and I'm sure a padung is a much more comfortable thing out here in a hot country than a pair of trousers."
"Oh, I don't know," said Harry; "but it is jolly hot."
"You don't know, because you have only put one on just for fun; but I often feel disposed to give up wearing trousers, and to go back to a padung again."
"What, go back to being a barbarian?" cried Harry. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself."
"Well, I'm not," said Phra warmly. "It's much cooler, and more pleasant."
"Oh, you savage! You'd better say it's cooler to go without anything at all."
"So it is—in the shade," replied Phra.
"Well, I am!" cried Harry. "After all the trouble father, Dr. Cameron, and your most humble and obedient servant have taken to make a civilized being of you, to talk like that!"
"Civilized being! pooh! I should have been a civilized being without your help."
"Not you. To begin with, you wouldn't have worn trousers, and wearing trousers means everything. A man who wears trousers stands at the very top of civilization. A man who doesn't wear them is a savage."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Phra. "I should like Mr. Cameron to hear you say that he was a savage."
"Who ever would say so? Mr. Cameron is—is—well, he's a tip-topper in everything."
"But he doesn't wear trousers when he goes with us shooting. He always wears his war petticoat then."
"Wears his what?" cried Harry wonderingly.
"That grey fighting petticoat. His kill it."
"Kill it? Kilt!" cried Harry. "Oh, what a rum chap you are sometimes, Phra! But that's only the old savage dress of the Highlanders. Hardly anybody but soldiers wears that now."
"Kill—kill it—kilt," said Phra thoughtfully. "What had you got to laugh at? Why, it does mean a war petticoat."
"All right; have it your own way," said Harry, who was watching the last of the guard following the box into the courtyard.
"But I don't want to have it my own way if I'm wrong," said Phra. "I want to be right."
"Very well. You are wrong there, lad."
"Why do they call it a kilt, then?" said Phra.
"Because it is a kilt, I suppose. Because—because—there, I don't know. We'll ask the doctor. But, I say, I didn't mean any harm about laughing at the King. I wouldn't, and I wouldn't let any one else laugh at him. He's such a good old chap; but he does look rum sometimes."
"Well, I know that," said Phra hurriedly. "And I don't like it, Hal, and I wish he would do as English gentlemen do; but he can't altogether."
"Why?"
"Because he's king, and the people wouldn't like it. The priests don't like a great deal that he does now, and they talk about it to the common people. They make them believe that my father is fighting against them and doing them harm."
"If I were your father, and they talked against me, I'd pitch them all into the river."
"No, you wouldn't, Hal. But hadn't we better go up to the door and see the chest opened?"
"Yes, come on," cried Harry eagerly, and they followed the guard, going by sentries armed with spear and kris, who smiled solemnly at the two boys, and made way for them with every show of respect.
They crossed the courtyard, which partook more of the nature of a garden, and looked particularly attractive, with its quaint, highly-pitched, gable-ended buildings around. But Harry had seen the place too often to pay any heed to the beautiful architecture, and he was all eyes for a little procession issuing from the principal doorway, consisting of the King, a quiet, grave-looking, grey-haired man, in silken jacket and sarong, and a number of his chief men, while the royal umbrella was held over his head.
The chest, one of ordinary deal, nailed down, strengthened with a couple of bands of hoop-iron, and directed in painted black letters, had been placed in front of the entrance, and ten spearmen stood in a row on each side, when the two boys, in obedience to a sign from the King, went up, each receiving a smile and a nod.
"Here is the new present," he said, smiling. "Take it, and see if everything is as you wished it to be; and I hope it will give you both much pleasure."
He spoke in very good English, and smilingly accepted the boys' thanks, before gravely turning and going back in procession to the main entrance to the palace; while, as soon as they were alone, Phra sent one of the guards to fetch a couple of artificers to bring hammers and chisels to open the chest.
"I don't believe a box ever had so much fuss made over it before," said Harry, laughing. "The things ought to be all right. I say, Phra, I hope nothing's broken."
"Oh, don't say that!"
"The big clock that came from England was. They're wretches, those sailors, for pitching packages about on board ship."
"They ought not to be allowed to be so rough," replied Phra. "My father would not permit them to be careless."
"Ah, but your father's one of the kings of Siam. We English people aren't allowed to slice people's heads off because they do as they like. I say, though, suppose they're burst."
"Burst! oh, I say, don't," cried Phra. "I've been looking forward to these things coming, so that we could play English games, and it would be horrible if we had to wait another six months."
"Perhaps they'll be all right," said Harry, in consolatory tones; "but that corner of the box has had a great bang, and the lid's split in two places, just as if it had been thrown down on the stones of a wharf."
"It says, 'With care. Keep this side up,'" said Phra.
"Oh yes; that's why they knock it about so, I suppose," replied Harry, laughing. "The sailors know their heads won't be chopped off."
"Here are the men," said Phra, as a couple of workmen came up, prostrated themselves, and then cleverly attacked the nails in the box, clumsy-looking as their tools were, removing the iron bands, wrenching up the lid and taking it off, while the guards and attendants stood stolidly looking on.
The removal of the lid revealed a quantity of paper shavings packed round sundry brown paper parcels, while one end of the chest was occupied by half a dozen pasteboard boxes, one of which was immediately opened, to reveal the neatly-sewn and laced leather cover of a football.
"What's that for?" said Phra. "Yes, I know; a football."
"Yes. You have first kick. I'll throw it down, and you run and kick it, just as you saw in our book of sports."
"I could not with the guard looking on," said Phra.
"I could," said Harry. "English fellows can do anything. Here goes."
He threw the ball down heavily, making it rebound, and then as it repeated its rebounds he rushed at it, and, although he had never done such a thing before, gave it a flying kick which sent it high in the air, but only to come down and bounce into the fountain basin in the middle of the courtyard.
"Wonderful!" the spectators seemed to say, as they looked solemnly at one another.
"Oh, I didn't mean that," cried Harry, rushing after the ball, followed by his companion, who walked sedately up just as Harry had shouted to one of the guard to come.
"Here," he said in Siamese, "fish out that ball."
The man smiled, reached out over the basin, and in another moment would have transfixed the football on his keenly-pointed lance.
But Harry was too quick for him, and gave the lance shaft a thrust.
"Not like that," he cried; "you'd kill it—let all its wind out. This way."
He showed the man how to guide the ball to the side with his spear, and then picked it up all dripping, to place it in the sun to dry.
"I say, Phra," he said, as he paused to wipe his wet face; "I'm afraid football's going to be rather a hot game out here."
"The book said it was played in winter," said Phra.
"Yes, but then we haven't got any winter here, so we must play it any time we can. But it is going to be rather a warm sort of game. Never mind; we've got the balls—six of them."
"But you don't want six."
"Yes, you do," cried Harry. "Some will burst; some will get kicked over into some one else's place and lost perhaps. But I say, we must learn to play, as we have got the balls."
"Come and finish opening the box," said Phra.
"'Tis opened. Why don't you say unpacking?"
"Because I am not so full of English as you are," replied Phra, with a sigh; and they bent over the chest and went on taking out its treasures: bats, stumps, bails, pads and gloves, all carefully done up in brown paper, while a whole dozen of best cricket balls were in as many little boxes.
"Seem to be making a pretty good mess with all these shavings," said Harry, raising himself up with a sigh of relief that the box was at last emptied.
"The people shall clear all away soon," replied Phra, glancing at the stolid-looking guards, who were gazing wonderingly at the new form of war club with handle bound with black string, and at the short, sharp-pointed spears which seemed to be a clumsy kind of javelin. "But this cricket seems as if it would be a very hot game to play."
"Oh, I don't know," said Harry carelessly. "Of course I've never played, but I know all about it. If you come to that, so do you."
"Yes," said Phra thoughtfully, "but I'm afraid I shall not like a game where one has to get so many runs. It will be terribly hot work."
"But you only get a great many runs if you can."
"Then it will be much cooler and pleasanter if you can't get any," said Phra. "I say, Harry, couldn't we alter the game?"
"I don't know. I daresay we could."
"Let's do the batting ourselves, and make the people bowl and run after the balls."
"And always be in?" said Harry. "Well, that wouldn't be bad. But I say, where are we to play?"
"I should like it to be right away somewhere," said Phra. "It would not be pleasant for us to be running and tearing about with our people looking on and making remarks about our getting so hot."
"Never mind about the cricket to-day," said Harry. "You want a lot of fellows to play that—twenty besides ourselves; but we could have a game of football."
"Very well; let's play football, then. I'll have all these things taken into my room. Only let's get right away. I don't care about playing here."
"Why not? It will be a capital place if we take care not to kick the ball into the fountain."
"I don't like playing here, with all the men looking on. It seems so silly to be running after a ball and kicking it, as if you were cross with it for being on the ground."
"I never thought of that," said Harry. "But let's see: why do we kick it? I wish we'd been the same as other boys."
"Well, so we are, only you were born in India, and I was born here."
"I don't mean that," cried Harry. "I mean the same as other English boys are. They go to big schools where they learn all sorts of games when they're half as big as we are. But let's see; we want to know why everything is. Why do we kick the football?"
"To make it bounce, of course."
"That isn't all. We kick it to make it fly through the air."
"For exercise," said Phra.
"That's something to do with it, I suppose; but there's something else. It's to try who's best man. Don't you see?"
"No," said Phra; "I only know that we've got to learn to play football and cricket."
"Never mind about cricket now; let's get to play football first."
"But we don't know anything about it," said Phra, "and it seems so stupid. Let's ask Mr. Cameron to show us how."
"That we just won't," cried Harry. "He'd only laugh at us. 'What!' he'd say, 'don't know how to play football? Why, I thought every boy could play that.'"
"I don't like to be laughed at," said Phra.
"Of course you don't. I don't either. That's the worse of people too. Just because they know something that you don't know, they think themselves so awfully clever, and laugh at you because you don't know the same as they do."
"Well, how do we play? Do you know?"
"I know something about it. You make sides, because it's going to be a fight."
"Then it's a cowardly game," cried Phra.
"Why?" said Harry in astonishment.
"Because in a fight you ought to use your fists; you taught me so; and this is all kicking."
"Oh, what a chap you are, Phra! If I didn't know what a straightforward one you were, I should think you were making fun. Can't you see this is not a fighting fight, but a fight in fun—to see who's to get the best of it?"
"So's a fighting fight," said Phra.
"Yes, but this is play. There ought to be a lot of fellows on each side, but I don't see why two can't have a game. I'm sure they'll get more kicking. Now we're going to play; I'm against you, and you're against me."
"I see; I'm against you, and you're against me. Well?"
"We begin out in the middle of a place, with the ball between us. I've got to kick it to the hedge on your side, and you've got to prevent me. You've got to kick it to the hedge on my side, and I've got to prevent you. That's easy enough to understand, isn't it?"
"Oh yes, I understand that; but I shan't play here."
"Why?"
"Because we're sure to fall out over it and fight, and I don't want our guards to see me and you fighting."
"Oh, we shouldn't be so stupid."
"I don't know whether it's stupid, but I know how you are when you get hurt a bit, Hal. No, I shan't play here."
"Very well, come on home with me. There's plenty of room at the bottom of the garden, and there'll be no one to see us there except Mike, and I'll take care he is sent somewhere else."
"That will do," said Phra. "How many balls shall we want?"
"Only one, of course."
"Why not have two?" said Phra. "One apiece; then we shouldn't fall out."
"And we shouldn't be playing at football. This ball will do. Come on."
Phra made no further opposition, but he hazarded the remark that it was rather hot to play.
"Yes, this is the hottest place I was ever in," said Harry. "There couldn't be any place hotter. But come along; English boys don't study about its being hot or cold when they want to do anything. I'm glad Doctor Cameron is nowhere near. He'd be interfering and dictating about the game directly. That's the worst of him, he knows so much. It will be much nicer for us to learn how to play well before he sees us at it, and then we shall know as much as he does."
The boys trudged off, with the sun shining down upon them as it can shine down in Siam. It was somewhere about a hundred degrees Fahrenheit in the shade, and it may readily be set down as being a hundred and twenty in the sun; so that Harry was quite right in his remarks about Dr. Cameron, for if he had been present he most assuredly would have interfered to the extent of making them put the football away, and ordering them into the shade.
But there was no one to interfere, as they trudged on, and entered by the gate of the bungalow, finding all very quiet till they got around to the back, where a peculiar noise came through the open jalousies of one window, making Harry step forward on tip-toe till he could look in.
This done, he stepped cautiously back to his companion.
"Only Mike," he whispered. "Lying on his back fast asleep, and snoring like a young thunderstorm in the distance. Come along; we shall have it all to ourselves."
"Where's your father?"
"Gone down to the port in a boat, to see the captain of one of the ships."
Five minutes later they were in a good-sized field, well hedged in with native growth, and displaying a very respectable lawn-like greensward, one which had cost Mr. Kenyon years of trouble to get something like an English meadow.
It was a capital place, and having settled which were to be the goals—though Harry did not call them so—they walked into the middle of the enclosure to make a start.
"Now," said Harry, "of course we don't know exactly how to begin, but—"
"Why didn't we read what it said in the book?" said Phra.
"What book?"
"The one that came in the chest."
"I didn't see any book in the chest."
"I did: The Book of Games; it was at the top, wrapped up in paper, and I sent it into my room so as to be safe."
"Well, you are a fellow!" cried Harry. "Never mind; we'll read all through it to-night. Let's begin our way to-day. There lies the ball, and we must start fair. I'll say one—two—three, and away! and then we must kick."
The boys stood face to face with the ball between them, and so close that their toes nearly touched it.
"Ready?" said Harry.
"Yes."
"Then one—two—three—and away!"
Phra was quick as lightning almost, and at the word away! he kicked at the ball; but Harry, instead of kicking, thrust it a little on one side so as to get a kick to himself, and he got it, right on the shin.
"Oh!" he cried, beginning to hop on one leg, while Phra sent the ball flying towards his goal, and ran after it at full speed.
"Hi! stop! stop! stop!" shouted Harry.
But Phra was too much excited to halt. He was finding a certain amount of satisfaction in delivering kick after kick to the yielding ball, which, in spite of a long voyage, proved to be wonderfully elastic, and flew here, there, and everywhere, except in the direction of the goal. For Phra's kicks were wanting in experience. He kicked too high, or too low, or out of centre; and the consequence was that he had a great deal of exercise, before a final kick sent the ball up to the hedge which formed one goal.
He turned round now, streaming with perspiration and flushed with triumph, to find that Harry had been limping and panting after him, to come up now, hot and angry.
"I've won," cried Phra. "What a capital game!"
"You've won!" grumbled Harry. "Of course you have. Any one could win who didn't play fair. But it wasn't playing."
"Why, what's the matter?" said Phra, staring.
"You know; you kicked me instead of the ball, and crippled me so that
I couldn't try."
"I'm so sorry, Hal. Ought you to have been kicking too?"
"Yes, and I wish I had—I wish I had kicked you at the beginning as you did me."
"But that was an accident," said Phra earnestly.
"It hurt just as much as if you had done it on purpose."
"Never mind," cried Phra; "let's begin again. I didn't understand the game. But, I say; it's splendid fun."
"Oh, is it?" said Hal, sitting down to rub his tender shin.
"Yes, splendid. When you kick the ball it flies off so beautifully.
You seem obliged to run after it."
"Yes," said Harry sarcastically, "and then I was obliged to run after you. Why didn't you kick it my way?" he added fiercely.
"I couldn't," replied Phra innocently. "That's the funny part of it, and I suppose the ball's made so on purpose. It never went the way I kicked it, but flew to all sorts of places. But I say, it's glorious fun running after it for the next kick."
"Oh, is it?" sneered Harry; for if the skin was not off his shin, it certainly seemed to be off his temper.
"Yes, come on, and let's begin again."
"Shan't," said Harry sourly; "it's too hot."
"Oh, nonsense; you don't feel it when you're at play."
"Play! I don't call it play," cried Harry angrily. "I call it being a pig and trying to have everything to yourself."
"Oh, I say, don't talk like that, Hal! I didn't know I was doing wrong. There, I apologise. I won't do it again. Come along."
"No, I'm not going to try now. It's a fool of a game, and all one-sided."
"Well, never mind; you'll have the right side sometimes. Let's start off again. I know you'll like it."
"No, I'm not going to play any more," grumbled Harry. "I wish the old ball was burst."
"You are in a temper," said Phra quietly. "I'm sorry I hurt you. Here, have a kick, Hal."
"Shan't; I'm too hot and tired."
"Rest a bit, then," said Phra. "I say, what queer people the English are to have invented a game like that! They must look so comic."
"What!" cried Harry indignantly. "Well, I do like that! Who looks comic, playing at shuttlecock and kicking it up in the air, and sending it back with the knees, elbows, or shoulders? I've seen some of the men knock the great shuttlecock up with their necks or chins. Now, that does look stupid."
Phra's eyelids contracted a little, and there was a frown upon his brow for a few moments.
It passed off then, and he brightened up, just when a few angry words would have caused an open rupture.
"Come and have a try, Hal, old chap," he said. "Sorry I hurt you," and he held out his hand.
This was too much for Harry, whose irritation was passing off with the pain. Jumping up quickly, he made a snatch at the ball, sent it flying, dashed after it, and delivered a tremendous kick, intending to send it right across the field.
But it did nothing of the kind, for the kick proved to be a regular sky-flyer, the ball taking an almost perpendicular course. Harry was lying in wait for it as it came down, ready to kick again; but Phra was coming, and unintentionally proved that two legs are much better for stability than one.
Of course every one knows this, and takes it for granted, just as most of us know some of the problems of Euclid, and could take the theory there set out for granted. But the old Greek philosopher proves them all, and Phra proved our theory by giving Harry a sharp push just as one leg was raised, sending him over like a single ninepin, and securing the ball once more, racing away, laughing heartily the while.
"Oh!" ejaculated Harry; "and him only a nigger! He shan't beat me like this."
He rushed off, with his temper coming back, in full chase of Phra, who ran on, kicking the ball, and roaring with laughter the while, till just as he was about to finish off with a tremendous kick, one which would secure a goal if it went straight, Harry came on with a rush, sent him flying instead of the ball, turned, and enjoyed a capital series of kicks before he was overtaken in turn.
Phra tried to put the same tactics into force, bounding right at Harry, who was just on the point of kicking home, when a thrust sent him over, and while still under the impetus of his run, Phra delivered the kick instead, a kick which proved to be the most direct that had been given, for the ball landed close to Harry's hedge, bounced, and went right home.
"There," cried Phra, flushed with victory; "I've won again."
Then he stared, for Harry threw himself down, panting and roaring with laughter.
"What are you laughing at?" cried his adversary. "That makes two games
I've won."
"No," cried Harry, wiping his eyes; "this one's mine."
"Nonsense! I kicked the ball."
"Yes, but into my goal."
"No; it's mine. I kicked the ball there."
"By mistake; for me."
"Oh, what a stupid game!" cried Phra pettishly. "Phew! how hot I am! I don't want to play any more at a game like that."
And now, with the excitement at an end, both found that playing football in their fashion under such a sun was an exercise of which a very little went a long way.
They stretched themselves out on the ground, with the ball lying hard by getting warm.
"Oh, I say, it's too hot to stop here; come and lie in the shade," cried Harry. "Let's go indoors."
They went back, passed through the verandah, and entered the dining-room.
It was as hot there, a heavy, stagnant heat; but there was a basket of oranges upon the table.
"These'll be better than water to drink," said Harry, rolling four across the table to his companion, and pocketing as many for his own use.
"But we can't stop here," said Phra; "it's too hot to breathe."
"I know; let's go and lie down on the floor at the landing-place."
"Yes, that will do," replied Phra, and a few minutes later the boys were extended upon their backs upon the bamboos, shaded by the palm-leaf roofing, and feeling a faint breath of warm air come up from the surface of the river, just as if it had floated up from the sea.
Here, as they lay, the boys peeled their oranges and threw the yellow rind into the river, where, whenever the white side fell downward, there was a loud splash made by a fish, which dashed at it and left it again as not good enough for food.
The oranges were not good—they were small and pithy, as if the sun had dried all the juice out of them; but they were the best the boys could obtain, and they were eaten in silence, neither feeling disposed to talk; and then the natural thing occurred to two boys hot and tired upon a torrid day when there was a sleepy hum in the air in and out beneath the shade in which they lay.
Five minutes after the last orange was eaten, a heavy breathing could be heard.
"Asleep, Phra?" said Harry softly.
A repetition of the breathing was the reply, and Harry lay with his hands clasped under the back of his head, gazing up at the palm thatch, where all looked softly light, though it was in the shade, the reason being that the sunshine was reflected from the surface of the water and played in a peculiar, mazy way upon the inner part of the roof, as if a golden net were covering the palm leaves and being kept in continuous motion.
There was a good deal to be seen up there: flies were darting about, and often faring badly, for every now and then a lizard ran along, looking like a miniature crocodile, the sunny reflections in full motion resembling the water.
The dart of one of these lizards upon an unfortunate fly was too quick for the eye to follow. One minute the curious little creature in its glistening armour would be creeping up to within a few inches of a fly busy at work brushing its head and wings with a care and nicety that suggested great pride in its personal appearance; the next moment there would be what seemed to be a faint streak upon the palm thatch, and the lizard would be where the fly was preening itself, but the fly was gone, and it had not been seen to fly away. It was there still, but securely enclosed, and ready to be transmuted into food.
"They are quick," thought Harry; but his attention was taken off the lizards to the action of something gliding along among the loose leaves of the thatch—something long and pale green and grey. It seemed to be so insecurely placed that it appeared to be on the point of falling, and if it had dropped it must have been upon the sleeping figure of Phra. But somehow it held on by means of the long plates or scales at the lower part of its body in one or two places, while the rest hung in limp, unsupported folds.
It was very interesting to follow the sinuous movements of this snake, a gracefully thin creature of about four feet long; and over and over again Harry laughed to himself, thinking how Phra would jump when he felt the thin, twining reptile drop upon him; but there was no fear of its falling, for it had the instinct of self-preservation strong within its fragile body, and it always appeared to be holding on tightly by one part, while the other was gliding forward seeking a fresh hold.
It was nothing new to the watcher, for Harry had seen snakes of this kind often, both living and dead, and his father had pointed out to him that it was of a perfectly harmless description, the head being softly elliptical and gently graduated off in its junction with the long, thin neck, showing no sudden swellings out caused by the possession of poison glands, which give to the dangerous little serpents the peculiar spade-shaped or triangular head with the corners bluntly rounded off.
As Harry lay watching the snake, he fully expected to see it dart its head at some of the flies buzzing about, but it went on its way quietly investigating, for it was in search of more juicy morsels than flies, its instinct having taught it that the palm thatch of such a roof as that in which it searched was exceedingly likely to contain the nest of some mouse or hole-loving bird, one of the little wren-like creatures whose fat, featherless young would form delicious morsels for a creature whose teeth were implements for holding on and not for masticating its prey.