"Aren't they? I'm afraid they are."
"Why do you say that?" said Beecher huskily.
"Look at our men—no: don't seem to notice them. I'm afraid it's like this: we asked them to take us up the river into a trap, and the beggars have done it. Dick, lad, they've uncovered the hilts of their krises—cleared for action."
"No, no, they wouldn't dare, with our men lying at the camp."
"I don't know that. It looks bad. Our lads can't help us now."
"Then we must help ourselves," said Beecher, through his teeth. "If that dog there has betrayed us into the hands of the enemy, curse him! he shall have the contents of my gun."
"Steady!" said Hollins gravely. "He knows what you are saying by your tone, and his right hand has stolen to the hilt of his kris. This is a time for diplomacy. We're not strong enough to fight."
"Strong or weak, I'm not going to give up without making some one pay for it. Here, Jerry, you two get hold of those revolvers, and if it comes to the worst, use them."
"Got hold on 'em, sir. I've been slipping in the cartridges ever since I see that boat."
"Then keep them out of sight," growled Hollins, in a deep voice. "We're not the first Englishmen who have been in a tight place. Dick, lad, one of us'll have to come the British officer and do a bit of the bully. What's a Rajah or a Sultan to an officer of Her Majesty out for his pleasure?"