“And freeing the country from a pest,” said Captain Horton.
“Tigers are pests enough,” said the doctor, “but intermittent or jungle fever is to my mind the pest of the country.”
“Yes, of course, doctor,” said the resident; “but what do you think, may we go?”
The doctor sat tapping the table with a dessert knife.
“Will you all promise me faithfully not to drink a drop of water that has not been filtered?” he said.
“Yes, yes, yes,” came from all down the table.
“I’ll promise, doctor, not to drink any water at all,” said Bob Roberts in a low voice, that was heard, though, by the doctor.
“It strikes me, young gentleman, that you won’t get anything stronger,” he said. “Well, gentlemen, if you’ll all promise to abide by my rules, I’ll say yes; you may go.”
A long quiet conversation was afterwards held, and finally it was decided that quite half the men should go, and on the eve of the expedition the final preparations had been made, tents and stores had been sent ashore ready for a start at daybreak.
The river had been scoured by the corvette’s boats, and no trace of Rajah Gantang’s prahus found; in fact, nothing had been heard of him or them for many days; and all being esteemed satisfactory and safe on that score, what remained to do was to settle who should stay and protect the residency and the corvette, and who should go.