"Here they are," he thought at last, for there was a movement high up on the side of the barge.
He raised his hand again, and as he did so he felt a sharp jerk in the sleeve of his jacket and starting back he knew instinctively that the blade of a spear had been sharply thrust down instead of the butt, and had passed through his jacket, grazing his arm, while the jerk he gave held the blade entangled lightly between his arm and side.
"What does he mean by that?" thought the boy as he was dragged forward and nearly off his feet, for he had seized the shaft with both hands.
He knew the next moment, for there was a loud shout, the sound of a blow; the spear came free, and something heavy and soft drove him backwards, while a sudden jerking of the boat brought Phra to his knees.
The shouting increased, and was responded to from barge after barge, the alarm having spread; but the boat was rapidly gliding across the river, and, turning at the opposite side, began to descend again at a pretty good rate, while a couple of lanthorns could be seen moving about on the barge they had left, and others were being lit as fast as was possible—slowly enough—on the others.
It was still too dark to make out what was taking place in their own boat, but it seemed to Harry in the excitement and confusion that only one of the men had dropped in and was rowing forward, while Sree was working the after oar, but with danger so near, he dared not even whisper to Phra, who was close by. Another thing was that he was trying to draw the spear from his left sleeve, in which it was strangely tangled, as if the man who thrust had given it a twist; and, worse still, he had become conscious that his arm and sleeve were wet, a peculiar smarting sensation telling him that he was bleeding freely.
"At last!" he said to himself, as he tore out the spear; and then he started, for Sree was leaning over him.
"Adong—Lahn?" whispered Harry.
"Both here, Sahib. Are you hurt?"
"I don't know. Yes—a little."