"Working near Ava," he said; "but as I should have to go to war if I had remained there, I thought that I would come back, and see how you all were. I have saved a little money, and may settle down; but whether here or elsewhere I have not yet made up my mind."
"You will have to go to the war," one of the old men said. "There is scarce a day that one of the war canoes does not stop here, to see if there are any able-bodied men. They have taken eight, and they will assuredly take you."
"Then I shall get a boat," he said, "and take to fishing. The war cannot last long, and I shall do my best to keep out of the way of the war canoes, until it is over. If any of you have a boat to sell, I will buy it."
"I will sell you mine," the old man said. "Both of my sons have been taken to the war, and I am too old to work it myself. It is a good one; my sons made it only last year.
"Whom have you with you?"
Stanley had remained a short distance off, while Meinik was talking to his friends.
"He is an old man I joined along the road," he said. "He is a skilful fisherman; and he has agreed to go with me, if I can get a boat.
"Is there an empty hut?"
"Yes, six of them. Of course, when the men were taken they carried off the wives and children, as usual, as hostages for their conduct."
Meinik nodded. He felt no surprise, as it was the custom in Burma to hold the women and children of all the men going to the war, as guarantees that their husbands would not desert or show cowardice in battle. In either event their relatives would be, at once, put to death.