“Suppose I did let them have you back,” said the resident to them one day in their native tongue, “what would happen?”
One of the girls, a tall, dark, graceful creature, but with the protruding lips, high cheekbones, and flat distended nose of the Malay, rose with contracted eyebrows, took her companion, forced her upon her knees, and then drawing an imaginary kris, she placed the point on the girl’s shoulder, and struck the hilt with her right hand as if driving it perpendicularly down into her heart.
“They would kill us—so!” she exclaimed, “and throw our bodies in the water to the crocodiles!”
The other girl shuddered, and raised her frightened eyes to the faces of the ladies as if imploring them to intercede—and not in vain.
“But they will not trouble about you now;” said the resident, tentatively.
“Yes, yes,” they both exclaimed, “they will send a naga and many men, but you will not let us go?”
“No,” said the resident, quietly. “We shall not give you up,” and he went away thoughtfully to his room, to continue writing the despatch he had commenced some days before.
That same evening the two principal officers came to have a chat, and over their cigars Major Sandars introduced the subject of the doubled sentries.
“There is no longer any need for this,” he said. “Let’s see, Linton, it is now a week since those two fellows came. Don’t you think, Horton, it is an unnecessary precaution?”
“Well, to be frank,” said Captain Horton, “I do; and I shall be glad to give up our strict discipline on board.”