The words were on his lips as he ran, and in his leap alighted on the other side in so bad a place that he had to catch at Tom to save himself from falling, and for a few seconds there was a sharp scuffle amongst the bamboos before they were safe.
“Look out, Ali,” shouted Bob, on seeing their companion coming; “it’s bad landing.”
But Ali was already in full career; as light and active of foot as a deer, he made a quick rush and a leap, and landed in safety quite a yard beyond the young officers.
“Well done! Hooray!” cried Bob, who had not the slightest objection to seeing himself surpassed; while the two Malays in charge of the guns and impediments on the other side stared at each other in astonishment, and in a whisper asked if the young chief had gone out of his mind.
“Now then, Sambo-Jumbo,” cried Bob, “over with those guns. Come along, they are not loaded.”
The two Malays stared, and Ali said a few words to them in their native tongue, when they immediately gathered up the guns, and, being bare-legged, waded across the stream, which was about four yards wide.
The last man came over with a rush as he neared the bank, for suddenly from a reed-bed above them there was a wallow and a flounder with a tremendous disturbance in the water, as something shot down towards the main stream.
“A crocodile,” said Ali, as the young Englishmen directed at him a wondering gaze.
“Crocodile!” cried Bob, snatching his gun from the attendant, and hastily thrusting in cartridges, after which he ran along the stream till checked by the tangled growth.
“No good,” said Ali, laughing at his eagerness. “Gone.”