CHAPTER XX
A DREARY RETURN
Harry was correct: the boat was gliding steadily back with the stream, and Sree was standing right forward in the prow, looking out and uttering warnings from time to time of dangers ahead, in the shape of fallen trees, while he kept on admonishing the men to be content with keeping the boat straight while the darkness lasted, and deferring all attempts at making speed till the day came.
It was still very dark, the stars being nearly blotted out by the thin mist; but there were sundry significant hints that morning was approaching, for the scintillation of the fire-flies had ceased, and the chorus of reptile and wandering beast in the depths of the forest was dying away.
Leaving Mr. Kenyon and the doctor talking, the boys were standing together right astern beyond the two rowers there, who were too intent upon working their oars to pay any heed to them and their discourse, though as it was carried on in English, they could have made out nothing, had they listened.
"I'm glad father wasn't cross," said Harry after several awkward attempts at getting up a conversation, Phra having replied to all he said in monosyllables, as in the present instance.
"Yes."
"It seemed so queer to get up and contradict his orders, and say we would do as we liked."
"Yes," said Phra, with a sigh, and then he added, "but it was quite right, for we both felt that it was like doing our duty."
"Ah!" cried Harry eagerly. "So it was. Look here, Phra, old chap, don't you be down-hearted."