The man thrust his hand under his silken robe, and produced the handsome weapon.
“An English gentleman does not break his word,” he said, giving the kris to the boy.
“Of course he doesn’t. Thank you,” said Frank, replacing the dagger at his waist, and covering up the hilt with a significant look at the man, who smiled and withdrew, while the boy interpreted the words which his companion had failed to grasp.
The meal being ended, they rose; the men came and cleared away, and as soon as they were alone again, Ned looked at Frank.
“What next!” he said.
“Ah, that’s the puzzle! Here we are, like two dicky-birds in a cage, and they won’t let us go out. If they keep us shut up long like this, it will be horrid. I wish I could send father word.”
“Could we escape?”
“I don’t know. We might try. What a muddle, to be sure. They think we were going to run away with Hamet, and we may talk for ever and they wouldn’t believe us.”
“But we can’t sit here and do nothing.”
“No; it will be horribly dull. Those Malay fellows like it. They can sit in the sun all day and chew betel. We can’t. All we can do is to sit and eat fruit, and you can’t keep up doing that always.”