CHAPTER XXX
LIKE A BAD SHILLING
When they quitted the hospital room, Harry and Phra threw themselves down on one of the long bamboo seats in the hall where they had left their guns, and sat talking dejectedly in a low tone, leaving oft from time to time for a walk out into the still night air to listen whether there were any tokens of an approaching attack; but the place was perfectly still; the glow from the burning tree had nearly died out, and everything was calm and peaceful.
After a time the King and Mr. Kenyon returned from their rounds and stopped to speak to the boys for a few minutes, telling them that they had better get a good sleep while they could, and that they had been examining the windows at the other side of the palace, where they had been a good deal burned.
"I'm afraid, sir, that was a mistake," said Mr. Kenyon. "It may have suggested to the enemy a means of attacking and destroying us without risk to themselves."
"By firing the palace," said the King gravely. "Yes. I thought of that. It is possible, and we must be prepared. Fire is easily mastered when it is small—a jar of water is sufficient; when it grows large, it takes a river."
They passed on, talking together, and the boys began and continued recalling the many expeditions they had made with Sree. What a brave man he was! how full of knowledge of animal life in the jungle, and how devoted to them in his simple, unostentatious manner!
"Yes, poor old Sree!" sighed Harry; "and now he's gone, and Adong too."
"Think so?" said Phra, looking up sharply.
"Oh, yes, or he would have been back with help," replied Harry. "Phra, old chap, I never felt so unhappy before in my life. It seems as if it was all over now."
"But it isn't," said Phra. "There is so much for us to do."
"To help our fathers?"
"Yes."
Harry sat back in his seat and began to think seriously, for his comrade's words had impressed him deeply, and as he sat there in the darkness of the night it dawned upon him more and more that in life one has to give up self for the sake of others, and that even at the very worst, when there is a disposition to think that one's own sorrows are everything, others have troubles and sorrows too that it is our duty to help and combat.
They were vague, disconnected thoughts, which he could not quite put together, but they served to make him feel less miserable, even contented; and then he began to think of the King's words in connection with his father's, and the possibility of the palace being fired by the enemy.
What had the King said?—that at the beginning a fire could be extinguished with a jar of water?
Consequently Harry sat back making up his mind that as soon as it was light he and Phra would get the boatmen together and plant big jars and bamboo buckets of water in the parts of the palace nearest to the wall—in fact, wherever it seemed possible that firebrands would be thrown in.
The natural consequence was that, being fagged out and sitting in an uncomfortable position upon a hard-backed seat, he dropped off to sleep and began dreaming of fire and putting it out with wooden buckets of water which always seemed to be empty when he was about to pour them on the flames.
And so the night wore on, without any alarm of attack, and Harry dreaming wearily, starting into wakefulness, and dropping off again to dream of those bottomless buckets which were always empty when they ought to have been full.
That constantly repeated dream irritated him, for even while he dreamed he was conscious that it was all imaginative, and that before long he would wake up and find he was dreaming, as he did over and over again, stiff, weary, and ready to make up his mind that he would sleep no more. But the next minute he was off again fast, and the last time in so deep a slumber that the sun was shining brightly when at last he opened his eyes upon Phra seated fast asleep at the other corner of the settee; and then turning his eyes a little to the right as he prepared his lower jaw for a good long yawn, he sat as if turned to stone, his mouth partly open, his eyes staring, and a horrible feeling as of cold water running down his back.
For there, so near that he had only to sit up and stretch out his hand to touch him, Sree was squatted upon his heels in the middle of a mat, calmly chewing his roll of betel-nut, lime and pepper leaf, his homely, dark face expanding into a broad smile as he saw that he was noticed.
"Sree! Alive!" cried Harry, springing from his seat, his cry rousing
Phra, to sit up staring.
"Yes, Sahib Harry," said the old hunter quietly. "I ran round to the back of the fire when I had pulled the ladder over and laid it with the bamboos, and then crept in among the bushes, to lie there, for I was nearly dead with the smoke. Then I crawled right away."
"But weren't you hurt?"
"My face scorched, and my hair burned a little, Sahib; that is all."
"Oh, I am so glad, Sree," cried Harry. "You don't—don't—know what we felt last night."
There was a slight impediment in Harry's speech as he caught the old hunter's right hand in both his own, an act imitated by Phra on the instant with the left, while the old man stood now looking proud and happy as he glanced from one to the other.
"Yes, we thought you were dead," said Phra.
"Here, let me go and tell father and the doctor," said Harry.
"No, no, Sahib," said Sree. "I saw Sahib Kenyon an hour ago, and he sent me to you. I have been sitting here till you woke up. He said you would be pleased."
"Pleased!" cried Harry. "There's a stupid word! That doesn't half mean what I feel. But I say, Sree, have you had any breakfast."
"Oh, yes, Sahib; the master gave me plenty."
"Tell us more, then. How did you manage to get here?"
"Oh, I crawled along like a snake, Sahib," said Sree, smiling. "There are many of the enemy about, but I managed to get by without being seen while it was dark; and when the sun rose, I got up and walked along boldly with a spear over my shoulder, just as if I was one of the enemy, till I was opposite to the great gates where the powder is buried. Then I came straight up to the gate, and the sahibs were going to shoot me, for my face was so blackened by the fire and smoke that they did not know me till I spoke. Then I gave them my spear, and climbed over. What does Sahib Harry want me to do next?"
"Fill water pots and bamboo buckets with water, to put in the rooms at the other side."
"Ah, yes; that is wise," said Sree. "I thought of that last night, when I saw the windows begin to burn. A little fire can be mastered with a jar of water."
"Hullo!" cried Harry. "Did you hear the King say that?"
"Oh, no, Sahib; we all say so, because we know how easily our boats catch alight; and if the fire is not put out, it may mean hundreds all along the river."
"Then we'll do that at once," said Phra; "only you must get Lahn and the boatmen to help."
"But that's my idea, Phra," cried Harry; "I say, Sree, have you seen
Lahn?"
"Oh, yes, Sahib; he came running up, and then threw himself down to kiss and cry over my feet."
"What did he do that for?" said Harry.
"Because he was so glad, for he thinks of me as his father."
"Now, Hal!" cried Phra; "come on; let's get the water pots put all about at once."
"Shan't," said Hal, laughing. "I'm not going to begin till I've had my breakfast. I'm so hungry I could eat old Sree."