elf just as my feet
came in contact with a broken beer bottle.

The entire surface of the little deck was strewn with glittering
star-shaped points that corresponded with the fragments before me.

I had not a moment to investigate, however, for in the gloom, where
the bow of the launch touched the foliage-meshed bank, a scene of
wild confusion was taking place.

Shadowy forms were leaping, one after another, from the branches above
on to the deck. I slowly cocked my revolver, doubting my senses,
for each time one of the invaders reached the deck he sprang into
the air with the long, thrilling cry of pain that had awakened me,
and with another bound was on the bulwarks and over the side of the
launch, clinging to the railing.

With each cry, Baboo's mocking voice came out, shrill and exultant,
from behind a pile of life-preservers. "O Allah, judge the dogs. They
would kris the great Tuan as he slept--the pariahs!--but they forgot
so mean a thing as Baboo!"

The smell of warm blood filled the air, and a low snarl among the
rubber-vines revealed the presence of a tiger.

I felt Aboo Din's hand tremble on my shoulder.

The five Sikhs were drawn up in battle array before the cabin door,
waiting for the word of command. I glanced at them and hesitated.

"Tid 'apa, Tuan" (never mind), Aboo Din whispered with a proud ring
in his voice.

"Baboo blow Orang Kayah's men away with the breath of his mouth."

As he spoke the branches above the bow were thrust aside and a dark
form hung for an instant as though in doubt, then shot straight down
upon the corrugated surface of the deck.

As before, a shriek of agony heralded the descent, followed by
Baboo's laugh, then the dim shape sprang wildly upon the bulwark,
lost its hold, and went over with a great splash among the labyrinth
of snakelike mangrove roots.

There was the rushing of many heavy forms through the red mud,
a snapping of great jaws, and there was no mistaking the almost
mortal cry that arose from out the darkness. I had often heard it
when paddling softly up one of the wild Malayan rivers.

It was the death cry of a wah-wah monkey facing the cruel jaws of
a crocodile.

I plunged my fingers into my ears to smother the sound. I understood
it all now. Baboo's pirates, the dreaded Orang Kayah's rebels, were the
troop of monkeys we had heard the night before in the tambusa trees.

"Baboo," I shouted, "come here! What does this all mean?"

The Tiger-Child