It was soon after two o’clock that the soldiers were mustered down to the boats, and silently took their places, just as through the mist, and with muffled oars, three more boats came slowly abreast of them, and after a brief colloquy moved off, with instructions that there should be no talking on board.
Fortunately for the expedition, though it was misty it was not so dark but that the leaders could follow the little light sampan of the Malay fisherman, who, apparently without any difficulty, sent his frail boat onward against the stream.
It was a weird procession through the mist, which gave the boats a fantastic, unreal appearance, while the shores looked, where the fog broke or floated up, strange, dark, and full of mystery. Every now and then there was a low echoing splash in the water, which told of some great reptile disturbed from its resting-place upon a muddy bank. Then those in the boats heard strange cries coming from a distance in the jungle, to be answered by other calls, some farther distant, some near at hand, telling that the various nocturnal creatures were busy securing food before the sun should drive them to their hiding-places in the darkest recesses of the forest.
“What’s that?” whispered Bob Roberts to old Dick, who was beside him in the foremost boat.
“Sounds like something swimming, sir. There, you can hear it blowing.”
“Do you think one of the boats has upset,” whispered Bob, excitedly, as he leaned over the gunwale and tried to pierce the mist.
“’Taint likely, sir. Wouldn’t they shout if they was turned up! Leastwise our chaps would; there’s no counting for what soldiers might do, though. I shouldn’t say as they’d let their selves drown without a squeak. That there’s a tiger swimming ’crost the river, that’s what that is.”
“Get out,” exclaimed the middy; “just as if a great cat would take to the water. Hist! I say, Doctor Bolter!”
“Yes,” was whispered back from the next boat.
“Would tigers swim?”