“Bother! we shall lose the tiger-hunt after all,” exclaimed my brother.
“Better that than hunt with tigers for our companions, Martin.”
“The Sahib Claud’s word are not good—the Chief is our friend,” replied Prabu, angrily. “Kati has frightened himself by conjuring up the shadow of a demon; but Kati, brave as a lion by himself, is all fear when his master’s safety is concerned.”
“Kati fears the anger of his good master more than the spears and creeses of a thousand Balinese chiefs,” replied the faithful fellow.
“Hast thou intimated to one of the crew thy suspicions?” asked Prabu, sternly.
“Is it possible the servant could breathe to slaves that which was only for the ear of the master?” was the reply.
“Then,” said Prabu, in kindlier tones, “Kati, my friend, thou hast done well, and thy master is not angered. Now, sahibs,” he added, “we will return ashore.”
“Truly, Prabu,” said I, as we were walking towards the pandapa—wherein now, as upon our previous visit, we had our lodging—“thou art obstinate in thy faith in this Mahomed’s honesty!”
“Who is Prabu, that he should doubt his friend and ally?” was the answer.
“Not even,” said I, “when, at this moment—if Kati’s story be true—he is harboring a Dutch spy in his palace? For if this man were not a spy, why did the Chief not tell thee of his coming to the island?” At which Prabu became thoughtful for a minute, and then replied: