“If those boys were here,” he said; “matters have now arrived at such a pitch, that I should try and scheme in some way to procure a boat, get all on board, and make an attempt to start away in the darkness.”
“Of course!” cried Murray. “They might not see us, but if they did, we are skilled in the use of our weapons, and I swear I could bring down every man at whom I shot.”
“Yes,” said Mr Braine, thoughtfully; “if driven, we should have to fight. I might win over three or four or half a dozen of the men to whom I have been friendly. I think I could. But no. The rajah has been too cunning for us. He sees that we are likely to try to escape, and he has us on the hip. Murray, I cannot go and leave my boy to the mercy of this demon. Mercy? He does not know the word. I should horrify you, if I told you of all I have been compelled to witness here.”
Murray gazed at him with his brow puckered, and then he suddenly started.
“I was to go on another expedition to-day; and, good heavens! here comes the rajah’s messenger to say that the elephants are ready. He shall kill me before I’ll stir a step. Stop,” he cried excitedly—“the elephants. I shall be able to take gun, rifle, and revolver. What if I make the men stop a mile or two away in the jungle path. Could you contrive to join me with the ladies after dark?”
“And if you could alone over-ride your guard, and I could contrive to join you with the ladies after dark, where should we go? My dear fellow, it is madness. Only out into the mountains to starve. We could not take the ladies, even if we could forsake the boys. Hush! here he is.”
The Tumongong, who had been in close conference with the chief of the guard below in the garden, now ascended the steps, and saluted the two prisoners.
“I bring you a message,” he said, gravely. “The rajah wishes him to wait for a few days before going upon his expedition, and he is to return to his own house. Tell him.”
“The rajah sends word that we are to be separated, Murray,” said Mr Braine. “You are to go.”
“And if I refuse?”