“I never saw them get their betel ready to chew before, uncle,” whispered Ned. “I say, what leaf is that?”
“Sirih, a little climbing kind of pepper.”
“Well,” continued Ned with a laugh; “I don’t know whether that’s a bad habit, but it looks a very nasty one. What savages!”
“They might say the same about our Jacks with their tobacco,” said his uncle.—“How would you like to live there?”
He pointed to where, in an opening in the mangroves, a tiny village of a few houses became visible, mere huts, but pretty enough to look at with their highly-pitched, palm-thatched roofs, showing picturesque gables and ornamentally woven sides, the whole raised on bamboo piles, so as to place them six or eight feet above the level of the river. A few cocoa-nut trees grew close at hand, and a couple of good-sized boats were drawn up and tied to posts, while a group of the occupants stood gazing at the passing party.
“No; I don’t think I should like to live there,” said Ned, as the men rowed on, and the houses with their cluster of palm-like trees gave place once more to the monotonous green of the mangroves. And now the boy altered his tactics. For a time he had scorned the shelter of the thatched roof which covered the afterpart of the roomy boat, and been all life and activity, making the Malays smile at his restlessness, as he passed among them resting his hand first on one, then on another brawny shoulder, to get right forward to the sharply-pointed prow, and sit there looking up the river; while his uncle rearranged some of the packages and impedimenta necessary for their long trip.
“There,” he said, as he finished for the time, by hanging two guns in slings from the roof, Ned having returned to sit down, and he began wiping his face. “I think that will do. If we had designed a boat to suit us for our trip, we couldn’t have contrived anything better. That is the beauty of travelling in a country where the rivers are the only roads. You require no bearers, and you have no worry about men being dissatisfied with their loads, and then having to set up a tent when the day’s journey is over. Here we are with a roof over us in our travelling tent, and all we have to do at night is to tether the boat to the shore, have a fire lit for cooking, and eat, sleep, and rest.”
“But you will not always keep to the boat, uncle?”
“No; we shall make a few little expeditions when we can, but, from what I have learned, the country farther north and east is nearly all jungle, with only a few elephant tracks through the forest by way of roads. Here, hadn’t you better sit still for a bit out of the sun.”
“Yes; coming back directly,” was the reply; and, going forward, Ned stood with his hands in his pockets gazing up the river. “I say, uncle,” he cried at last; “I’m getting tired of these mangroves. Why, the shore’s all alike, and oh, how hot it is!”