Two days later, before they turned away from the river, they heard some news of the Kini-Balus from a party of natives bound down-stream in dug-outs. Salloo learned from them that the tribe was at war, at least so it was supposed by the canoeists from the fact that they had heard that the chief of the Kini-Balus had been making levies of cattle and corn among his subjects.
“That sounds bad,” said Mr. Jukes, when this news had been interpreted to the party.
“No, him good,” asserted Salloo positively.
“How do you make that out?” asked Jack.
“If Kini-Balus makee war, they leave only women and old men at home. They no fight us,” argued the Malay, and they had to admit that there was a good deal of truth in what he said.
“We’re all going to get killed anyhow,” whimpered Donald, who had been taken along by the party, much against their will, in consideration of the services he had rendered in showing them the hiding place of the map.
“Him heap big coward,” muttered Salloo. “Boy’s body, girl’s heart.”
It was on the afternoon of the second day that the storm that Salloo had predicted overtook them. They were passing through a dense forest of magnificent trees when the eternal twilight that reigned under the great branches deepened till it was almost totally dark. Astonished at this phenomenon, for it was long before the proper hour for night to descend, they questioned Salloo.
“Big storm come,” he said, “me thinkee we better get out of here. Lightning hit a tlee maybe he killee us.”
The birds of the jungle screamed discordantly, as if warning each other of what was coming. Troops of monkeys swung through the trees as if seeking refuge, and the almost deafening chorus of insects and lizards gave way to total silence. It seemed as if nature was holding her breath preparatory to some great crisis.