The men eagerly drew the boat over the stones, amidst which the pellucid water trickled and sparkled, placed it well in the shadow of a towering mass of rock, and then, in the comparative coolness, a good meal was made, after which first one and then the other dropped off to sleep.
The sun was setting when the doctor awoke from a dream of being somewhere undergoing a punishment for his sins by being buzzed at by flies that he could not knock off his face and ears.
He felt annoyed on seeing how the day was spent; but a little consideration told him that the men were almost knocked up by their exertions, and that they would be the better for the rest.
“Well,” said the doctor, “how are we to manage now? Will the stream grow deeper higher up?”
“No, master,” replied the Malay; “the boat can go no farther. We must walk.”
“Humph! and carry the provisions?” said the doctor.
“Yes, if the master wishes to go up to the mountains.”
“Why, you are afraid, Ismael!” said the doctor.
“Yes, master, we are both afraid; but if he says we must go, his servants will follow him right up where the spirits dwell. Look—see,” he whispered. “There is one waving its hands to us to tempt us. Don’t—no, don’t look, master, or you may die.”
The second Malay threw himself flat in the bottom of the boat, and covered his face with his hands.