“Instead of taking a leaf out of his pouch,” continued Murray, “smearing it with that mess of white lime paste out of his shell—”
“Putting a bit of broken betel nut inside—” said Roberts.
“Rolling it up together—” continued Murray.
“And popping the whole ball into his pretty mouth,” said Roberts. “Bah! Look at his black teeth and the stained corners of his lips. Talk about a dirty habit! Our jacks are bad enough. Ugh!”
“I say, Dick,” whispered Murray, as the Malay occupant of the boat realised the fact that he was being watched, and rolled his opal eyeballs round with a peculiar leer up at the two young officers.
“Now then,” was the reply, “you promised that you wouldn’t croak.”
“To be sure. I only wanted to say that fellow looks a beauty.”
“Beauty is only skin deep,” said Roberts softly.
“And ugliness goes to the bone,” whispered Murray, smiling. “Yes, he looks a nice fellow to be a cultivator of the indiarubber plant.”
“Eh? Who said he was?” said Roberts sharply.