“No,” said the young Rajah. “If my people have forsaken me, I must not forsake them. Here, you promised, you know, to come and spend a few days with me, and have some tiger-shooting. When is it to be?”
“When my major gives me leave. Stop! Stop now, and ask him. He or Sir Charles Dallas will put you up for the night.”
“No, Maine; they don’t believe in me enough. Somehow they have no faith in me at all, and because I’m Suleiman’s enemy—or rather, he is mine, for I have no feeling for or against the fellow—they think that I am opposed to the English, with whom I want to be friends and to get their help to civilise my people. No, I must be off to my boat at once, and try to get in touch with my people as soon as possible. They will keep to the lower elephant-patch, as near to the river as they can. There, try and get leave, old chap. I want you to come. I say, you don’t mind my calling you ‘old chap’?”
“Like it,” said Archie, holding out his hand. “I am disappointed, however, for I should have liked you to stay. But hadn’t you better try to bring some of your men back?”
“No. They wouldn’t come now, for fear of being laughed at for being such cowards.”
“Well, if you must go, you must; but, as I said, I should have liked you to stay. It would have looked so friendly to my people.”
“I hope they will believe in me some day without that,” said the young Malay. “But tell me, if you had been in my place, and seen your people scared away by the English soldiers, would you have stayed?”
“No; I’ll be hanged if I should,” said Archie with energy. “I should have felt too mad.”
“Thank you,” said Hamet. “That sounds frank.”
“It is frank,” said Archie. “But I say, now, tell me: has it made you feel mad against us?”