The Rajah of Dah

by George Manville Fenn

All was perfectly still in the garden for a few moments, and then there was a heavy stertorous breathing, which sounded louder as they descended and passed quickly on down to the gate; Tim staggering a little, but keeping step for step with the doctor, who supported him by the arm.

Frank led as he had been instructed, and heard the heavy breathing to right and left; but it was not until he reached the entrance that he really came in contact with the guards, for there lay one right across the path, and another had his arms folded on the bamboo top rail of the gate, and hindered further progress.

To step over the prostrate man was easy, but this other completely barred the way. Frank waited till his father came up, and he heard him draw his breath heavily, and stand thinking.

“We cannot stand over trifles now,” said Mr Braine. “Desperate remedies are our only hope;” and, after hesitating a moment or two, he gently passed his arm round the soft lithe body of the Malay, lifted him from the gate, and let him sink to the ground beside his companion.

Those were critical moments, and all looked on trembling; but the man only muttered a little, and, with a heavy sigh, went off into a deeper sleep.

The party stood listening for a few moments, and then started for the stockade, in and out among houses and gardens, where all was silent save the occasional cackle and movement of the game-fowls many of the people kept. Twice they heard voices, but the place seemed to be pretty well plunged in slumber, and, with his spirits rising moment by moment, Frank hurried on, with Amy close behind him, till the houses were left behind without a soul being encountered; but now, as they neared the river, there were other dangers to fear.

Of the reptiles Frank thought little. The danger was from the naga that was always patrolling the stream night and day, especially the former, on the look-out for trading vessels trying to slip by in the darkness and in the silence of the night. Knowing how sound travelled, he was in agony lest there should be word or whisper to excite the Malays’ suspicion.

But fortune favoured them. He caught sight of the dark hulls of the prahus, but the boat was invisible, and as Frank crept on along the river-bank listening to the strange sighings and splashings of the river, he at last made out the great tree beneath which he had rescued Ned from a horrible death, and a quarter of a mile farther on, through the wet untrampled shore-growth, where twice over he heard the rushing and splash of some reptile, he paused by a thick bed of reeds and grass, with bushes overhanging the river’s edge.

Here he stopped till the others joined him—Tim still staggering on with the doctor’s help—and then moved forward again by a tall palm.

He listened, and everything but the splashing of fish and reptiles was still. There was no dipping of oar or creak of bamboo against wood.