The meal was scarcely ended before the light sampan was back with good news. Moung San had been in Mandalay the last two days, and now lay at his accustomed anchorage.
"That's capital," said Dent. "We'll give old Moung a look up before the evening's much older."
Half an hour later all three embarked upon the sampan whose owner had found out the anchorage of Moung San, and the tiny craft was thrust into the river and pulled across the flowing stream. Jack looked with much interest on the pretty, picturesque little craft with its bow and stern curving upwards, and on its boatman, a strong Shan clad in wide trousers and a great flapping hat, who stood up to his couple of oars and sent the light skiff along at a good speed. A pull of a mile or more brought them to the hnau, a big native boat moored near the farther shore of the wide stream. The sampan was directed towards the lofty and splendidly-carved prow of the hnau and brought to rest.
Now there looked over the side a dark-faced old Burman, whose face broke into smiles at sight of his old acquaintances.
"Hello, Moung San," cried Dent. "We've come to pay you a visit."
"Very glad, very glad," replied the Burman. "Come up, come up."
They climbed at once to the deck of the hnau, where Moung San shook hands with them very heartily. When he heard Jack's name he smiled and showed all his teeth, stained black with betel-chewing.
"Me know your father," he said, and shook Jack's hand again. "Very good man, very good man."
Amidships there was a large cabin, roofed with plaited cane, built up on the hnau. Moung San invited them to enter it, and all four went in and sat down.
"Now, Moung San," began Jim Dent "You listen to me. You know the ruby-mines well, don't you?"