The Malay looked hard in his eyes, and Bob repeated the question.
The Malay seemed to divine what he meant, for he raised one bare brown arm and pointed forward along the course of the river.
It was a mute but conclusive reply, telling the middy plainly enough that they had farther to go, and once more the attention of all was taken up by the navigation of the narrow winding channel.
Still there was no fault to be found with Ali’s message, for the water was deep, and though the steamer seemed at times to be running right into the bank, there was always room to turn what looked to be an ugly curve, and onward they went through the dense jungle.
On either side the primeval forest seemed to stretch away, and where there were changes of a more park-like character, so rare was the sight of a human being there that the shy pea-fowl, all metallic plumage and glorious eyes, could be seen gazing at the steamer before taking flight. There were deer too seen occasionally, and had this been a pleasure-trip the sportsman would have had ample use for rifle or gun.
But this was no pleasure-trip, for the deck was cleared for action, and the men were at their quarters, ready to send shot or shell hurtling through the jungle whenever there should be a reason for such a step.
Another hour, and another, and still the Malay guide pointed before him, gesticulating a little sometimes as if bidding them hasten onwards.
The speed was increased at such times, though it was risky, for the narrowness of the course, and the size of the steamer, rendered the greatest care necessary to avoid running her bows in among the trees.
Lieutenant Johnson stamped impatiently at last as the sun was descending behind the trees, and still the Malay pointed onwards.
“It is enough to make one think it a wild goose chase!” he exclaimed. “We have made a grievous mistake in not having an interpreter. Roberts, you ought to be able to speak the Malay tongue.”