He could see none, but it was very attractive to gaze down into that dark clear water with its patches of floating lotus-leaves, from among which rose the bright blue waterlily-like flowers. They seemed likely places for fish, and for a few minutes the grim horrors of the morning passed away, and he began to think of what a capital place that would be for carp-fishing, if it were an English river at home, and to wonder what kind of fish there would be there. For that there were fish he felt convinced, from a slight swirling movement he had seen, and the shaking of the stems and leaves once or twice, as if something were moving somewhere below.
That smooth shadowy pool in the river was very beautiful, and the sun streamed down through the leaves like a silver shower, as Ned still thought of the fishing, and this brought up the recollection of the boy he had seen on the river and at his return at night.
“Perhaps he’s the rajah’s son,” thought Ned. “No,” he continued inconsequently, “he couldn’t be, because the rajah has lots of wives, and of course he would have plenty of sons. I know,” he thought, after a pause; “he must be the Tumongong’s boy. He did look something like him. I shouldn’t wonder if its—”
Ned’s thoughts seemed at that moment to have been cut off short, or, to use a railway phrase, shunted off on to another track—that is, from fancies about the Tumongong’s son to the fishy inhabitants of the river.
For once more he noticed that about twenty feet from the overhanging bank, formed of twisted roots, on which he stood, one of the largest beds of floating lotus-leaves was being agitated by what must certainly be quite a large fish forcing its way toward him, till he could see its long brown back just beneath the surface, and gliding very slowly nearer.
It was impossible to make out what it was for the leaves, two or three of which were pushed up, and sank down again while others were forced aside.
It was quite fascinating to watch it, and Ned was longing for some fine tackle, when there was a sudden rustling in the boughs overhead, and a dark animal that he could not clearly distinguish began leaping and bounding about, chattering, shrieking, and making other strange noises, as it shook the boughs and ran out on one over the water, to hang down by one hand and a foot, chattering and showing its teeth menacingly at the big fish which was still slowly gliding nearer to the bank.
There was no mistaking what the animal was now, and wondering at its comparative tameness, Ned’s attention was now diverted to what was the finest and most active monkey he had ever seen.
“I didn’t know monkeys liked fishing,” he was saying to himself, when the movement in the water increased, the animal in the tree swung itself nearer, and there was a rush and splash just as the spectator felt a violent shock as if some one had seized him from behind, and losing his balance he fell backward, and then in alarm rolled over twice away from the river, and struggled up to his knees, just as a figure rushed at him again and dragged him farther away.