ut the box-like stall.

Only the eager faces of the listeners stood out clear and distinct
against the shadowy background of tapestries from Madras and Bokhara,
soft rich rugs from Afghanistan and Persia, curiously wrought finger
bowls of brass and copper from Delhi and Siam, and piles of cunningly
painted sarongs from Java.

Close against a naked fisherman sat the owner of the bazaar in tall,
conical silk-plaited hat and flowing robes, ministering to the wants
of the little actor, as the soft, monotonous voice paused for a brief
instant for the tiny cups of black coffee.

I never had the heart to interrupt him in the midst of one of these
dramatic recitals, but would stand respectfully without the circle
of light until he had finished the last sentence.

He was not frightened when I thrust the squatting natives right
and left, and he did not forget to arise and touch the back of his
open palm to his forehead, with a calm and reverent, "Tabek, Tuan"
(Greeting, my lord).

So Baboo went with us to fight pirates.

He unrolled his mat out on the bow where every dash of warm salt
water wet his brown skin, and where he could watch the flying fish
dash across our way.

He was very quiet during the two days of the trip, as though he were
fully conscious of the heavy responsibility that rested upon his young
shoulders. I had called him a boaster and it had cut him to the quick.

We found the wreck of the Bunker Hill on a sunken coral reef near the
mouth of the Pahang River, but every vestige of her cargo and stores
was gone, even to the glass in her cabin windows and the brasses on
her rails.

We worked in along the shore and kept a lookout for camps or signals,
but found none.

I decided to go up the river as far as possible in the launch in
hope of coming across some trace of the missing crew, although I
was satisfied that they had been captured by the noted rebel chief,
the Orang Kayah of Semantan, or by his more famous lieutenant, the
crafty Panglima Muda of Jempol, and were being held for ransom.

It was late in the afternoon when we entered the mouth of the Sungi
Pahang.

Aboo Din advised a delay until the next morning.

"The Orang Kayah's Malays are pirates, Tuan," he said, with a sinister
shrug of his bare shoulders, "he has many men and swift praus; the
Dutch, at Rio, have sold them guns, and they have their krises,--they
are cowards in the day."

I smiled at the syce's fears.

I knew that the d