“But we could not, Hamet,” said Frank. “The rajah’s people would hear us, and stop us.”
“Perhaps,” said the man, quietly. “Heaven knows: but we will try.”
“Yes,” said Frank, “we will try, unless my father thinks we ought all to stop, and he could bully the rajah. But we will see.”
“Yes, we will see,” replied Hamet; and there was silence once more for a time, but Ned was too much excited to remain quiet long.
“Are you sure,” he said, “that they cannot follow us on shore though they have no boat?”
“Quite sure,” said Frank. “They are on the wrong side of the river, and they could not cut a way through the jungle for days and days. I don’t know how far we are up either. Perhaps miles and miles, and they were rowing and poling up all night.”
Silence once more fell upon the party, and the boys sat watching the dark wall of trees on either side and listening to the forest sounds, all of which seemed strange and impressive at such a time. Now and then the oar creaked with which Hamet kept the boat’s head right, and several times now the boys shrank from the side as there was a sudden swirl and rush through the water, evidently caused by a crocodile disturbed by the passing boat. Then, too, came the cry of a tiger, distant or near, and other peculiar calls from deep in the jungle, sounds that they would hardly have noticed by day, but which were peculiarly impressive now.
And so the time wore on, till, just as Ned was asking if his companion did not think they must be near the campong now, Hamet said in a low voice:
“Don’t talk. Words fly along the water. Be heard.”
“Then we must be near now?” whispered Ned.