"Is that full of friends or enemies, Phra?"
"Enemies," said the lad bitterly. "If my father is shut up like that, and the palace being attacked, he will have no friends. Oh, how long—how long must I wait before I go to help?"
"Patience, my boy, patience," said Mr. Kenyon softly; "we are all as anxious as you; but when we stir it must be to do good, not to increase your father's anxieties."
"How could we?" said Phra impatiently.
"By placing the son he believes to be beyond the reach of his enemies in a position of danger."
"That was just the right thing to say to him, poor fellow!" thought Harry. "I wish I was as clever as my father. Poor old Phra! he can't say anything to that."
Harry was right. Phra remained silent, but from time to time, as he sat with his hand resting upon his comrade's arm, the English boy could feel it quiver as if from the pain he suffered.
Suddenly there was a fresh burst of shouting from across the river in the direction of the palace, suggestive of the occupants of the boat having joined those they supposed to be the besiegers; and now the party sat anxiously listening for another attack, but they waited in vain.
And how long the time seemed that Sree had been away! It was impossible to make any calculation in such a position, but everything had for some time been silent in the direction of the palace, where the lights had gone out one by one, while lower down the river there was not one to be seen, only the twinkling of the fire-flies in the gardens on the other side.
Suddenly the silence was broken by the doctor saying aloud,—