“I don’t know. I was trying to make out, but you can only see trees. I do believe they’ve taken us up the river somewhere. I don’t know, though. These houses are all alike. It isn’t the Tumongong’s, nor the Muntrie’s, nor the Maharajah Lela’s. Yes, I believe they’ve taken us up the river. The old chap has houses in all sorts of places out in the jungle, where he likes to go and hide himself sometimes, but I don’t see any fun in his hiding us.”
“Then they brought us up here. But how?”
“In a naga, of course.”
“But in our sleep, or while we were insensible?”
“Insensible, if you like to call it so. They must have given us some stuff. They’ve all kinds of dodges of that sort, bless ’em! You should hear Doctor Barnes talk about the poisons they use.”
“I should like to—now,” said Ned, drily.
“And so you shall—before long. I’ll soon get you out of this. Yes,” he continued, “this is one of the old boy’s places. See how fine the mats are, and how the walls are covered. But never mind now, my head’s better, and here’s our breakfast.”
For the two men entered as the boys came back into the main room opening on to the veranda from an inspection of two side-places beautifully hung and covered with mats. Then a third man entered, and as Frank nonchalantly seated himself on the matting floor, Ned followed his example, and an excellent breakfast was placed before them.
“Not bad for being prisoners,” said Frank, as he ate away; while, after the first few mouthfuls, Ned’s appetite increased, and he began to enjoy the meal.
“That’s right. Ruminate away, old chap. There’s nothing to pay. It’s the rajah’s orders, sure enough, or we shouldn’t be fed like this. He isn’t going to kill us.”