Phra looked a protest, and the King went on:
"Unless the enemy attack us in force to-night; then of course you will both come and help. Now, Kenyon, let us go our rounds. This quietness is more startling than an attack. I fear they are planning something fresh."
"Very likely, sir," said Mr. Kenyon cheerfully; "but we must scheme in return."
They went on down to the barricade by the gate, and the boys sighed wearily as they walked towards Doctor Cameron's hospital room; for the spirit seemed to have sunk down in them just as the fire had fallen after it had reached its height.
"What a capital English gentleman your father would make if he dressed like us," said Harry, for the sake of saying something.
"Yes, and what a good Siamese noble your father would make if he dressed like some of ours," said Phra, with a faint smile.
"All right," said Harry; "that's one each. But I say, it seems very stupid to go to the doctor for such hurts as these."
"Yes, we must say the King sent us, or he will laugh."
But Doctor Cameron did not laugh: he frowned as he examined Phra's left ear.
"A narrow escape, my dear boy; but as we people say, a miss is as good as a mile. Only this is not a miss: the spear blade has cut the lobe of your ear in two. I must put in a stitch or two and draw it together before strapping it up. I'll bathe it directly. All, here's my wife. Bathe this injury, my dear."