d himself, Bob found the
heat almost too much for him, and looked enviously at old Dick, who lay
back in the bows of the little cockle-shell of a boat, with his knees
in, his chin pointing upwards, and his arms resting on the sides,
literally basking in the hot glow.

The line kept floating down with the stream, and Bob kept pulling it up
and dropping it in again close to the boat, but there was no sharp tug
at the bait; and after half an hour of this work a peculiar drowsy
feeling began to come over the middy, the bright flashing river ran on,
and the palms and attap-thatched houses on the shore began to run on
too, and all looked misty and strange, till the rod was about to fall
from his hand, his nodding head to rest itself upon his chest, and the
first lieutenant's basket of fish to vanish into the realm of
imagination--when there was a tremendous tug, and Bob started into
wakefulness, with his bamboo bending nearly double, and some large fish
making the line hiss through the water as it darted here and there.

The contest was short and furious. Any doubts in the middy's mind as to
the existence of fish in the river were gone, for he had hooked a
monster. Now it was rushing up towards the surface, now diving down so
deeply that the top of Bob's bamboo dipped in the water, and then it was
sailing up and down stream, anywhere in fact, but never giving the
excited lad a chance of seeing what it was like.

"Had I better go in arter him, sir?" said Dick, grinning.

"I don't know, Dick. I think--oh, I say, look at that!"

_That_ was Bob's line hanging limply from his straight bamboo, for there
was a furious rush, a dull twang, and the fish had gone.

"He was a big 'un, sir," said Dick, refilling his pipe. "Never mind.
Try another, sir; better luck next time."

Bob sighed as he fitted on a fresh lead and hook, and was soon fishing
once more, thoroughly awake now; and to his great delight he felt a
sharp tug at his line, and striking, found that he had hooked a fish of
a manageable size, which he soon hauled into the boat, and recognised as
the _ikan sambilang_, a fish frequently sold to them by the Malays, and
esteemed quite a delicacy.

"It's a rum-looking one," said Dick, examining the captive as Bob put on
a fresh bait. "It's just like one of the eel pouts as we boys used to
ketch down in the drains in Yorkshire."

"In the drains, Dick?"

"Oh, I don't mean your drains. I mean land drains as take the wat