Jungle and Stream: or, The Adventures of Two Boys in Siam

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.