“Like what, Mr Roberts?” said a voice that made them start; and turning sharply, they saw Captain Smithers standing by them, with Lieutenant Johnson.
“Mr Ali here wants to dress up as a common Malay, sir, and go as a spy to get news of the hunting-party.”
“It would be excellent,” cried the lieutenant. “Mr Ali, you would confer a lasting favour upon us.”
“But have you thought of the risk?” said Captain Smithers.
“I have thought of everything,” said the young man, quietly.
They all sat down together under the shade of the great tree where they were, and the matter was talked over, it being decided that from time to time Ali was to send messengers with news of his progress, if he could find any trustworthy enough; and all being arranged, he left them, to make preparations for his departure, shaking hands warmly with all, and then going towards the barracks, but only to return directly.
“As you may suppose,” he said, “my success depends upon my not being apparently known to you; so if a strange Malay is seen leaving your lines, don’t let him be fired at.”
“Of course not: I see,” exclaimed Captain Smithers. “But shall we see you again?”
“Not to speak to,” replied Ali, smiling; and as soon as he had gone, Captain Smithers walked across the ground to give orders about a strange Malay being allowed to leave.
Lieutenant Johnson returned on board the steamer with Bob Roberts; and Tom Long, after seating himself comfortably in one chair with his legs in another, went off fast asleep.