We found him sitting in state on the veranda of his palace, gazing serenely out across the clearing. The servants that hovered about him looked like ludicrous little manikins in his presence, for he would have tipped the scales at perilously near a quarter-ton. The unruffled mien with which he noted our arrival bespoke a truly regal poise. We halted at the foot of the throne and craved the boon of a drink of water. Judging from the calm wave of the hand with which the “king” ordered a vassal to fetch it, one would have supposed that white men passed his palace every hour. He watched us silently as we quenched our thirst. There was no tremor of excitement in the voice in which he asked our nationality and destination, and he inquired no further.
“I can put a bungalow at your disposal,” he said, “if you had planned on stopping here.”
We were of half a mind to push on. It lacked an hour of sunset, and, to tell the truth, we had grown so accustomed to being received with open arms by Europeans that we were a bit disgruntled at his impassionate demeanor. In the end we swallowed our pride and thanked him for the offer. That decision turned out to be the most fortunate of all the days of our partnership.
The “king” waved a hand once more and a henchman in scarlet livery stepped forth and led us to one of the half-circle of bungalows. It was a goodly dwelling, as dwellings go, up along the Menam. Five servants were detailed to attend us. They prepared two English tub-baths and stood ready with crash towels to rub us down. The condition of our skins forced us to dispense with that service. When we had changed our garments a laundryman took charge of those we had worn. By this time, a servant had brought a phonograph from the palace and set it in action. The phonograph is not a perfected instrument; but even its tunes are soothing when one has heard nothing approaching music for weeks except the ballads sung by a crack-voiced Australian or the no less symphonic croaking of lizards.
Then came our evening banquet. For days afterwards James could not speak of that without a tremor in his voice. The supper of the night before was a free lunch in a Clark street “slop’s house” in comparison. Least of the wonders that arrived from the storehouse of his jungle majesty was a box of fifty fat Habana cigars and a dozen bottles of imported beer; ice cold in these sweltering tropics.
We had just settled down for an evening chat when a sudden violent hubbub burst forth. I dashed out upon the veranda. Around the palace fluttered half the population of Kung Chow, squawking like excited hens; and the others were tumbling out of their bungalows in their haste to add to the uproar.
The royal residence was afire. From the back of the building a shaft of black smoke wavered upward in the evening breeze. When we pushed through the panic-stricken throng, a slim blaze was licking at a corner of the back veranda. Its origin was not hard to guess. At the foot of the supporting bamboo pillar lay a sputtering kettle over a heap of charred fagots. Around it the natives were screaming, pushing, tumbling over each other; doing everything, in fact, but what the emergency called for. A dozen of them carried buckets. Twenty yards away was a stream. But they were as helpless as stampeded sheep.
James snatched a bucket and ran for the creek. I caught up the tilting kettle and dumped its contents of half-boiled rice on the blaze. With the Australian’s first bucketful we had the conflagration under control and it was but the work of a moment to put it out entirely. When the last ember had ceased to glow, the first native arrived with water from the stream. Behind him stretched a long line of servants with overflowing buckets. They fought with each other in their eagerness to deluge the charred corner of the veranda. Those who could not reach it dashed their water on the surrounding multitude, and the real firemen; then ran for more. We were forced to resort to violence to save ourselves from drowning.
As the last native was fleeing across the clearing, I looked up to see “his majesty” gazing down upon us. There was not a sign of excitement in the entire rotundity of his figure.
“These wild men are a useless lot of animals,” he said. “I’m glad you turned out.” Then he waddled back into his palace.