it, if they don't eat us they will make us work, or why
should they otherwise carry us off?" observed Kiddle. "These Malay
fellows make slaves of all the people they can lay hands on. If it was
not for that they would cut our throats."

These remarks made Dicky Esse and me feel very uncomfortable, till
Pember observed that perhaps they had carried us off in the hopes of
obtaining a ransom. This idea kept up our spirits a little; but as they
continued to drag us on further and further into the country, our hope
on that score greatly decreased. At length we reached another village,
in which was a large hut. Under the shade of a wide-spreading verandah
in front of it an old chief was seated on cushions; a dozen half-naked
savages with drawn swords standing behind him. He was dressed in a
dark-coloured turban, with a shawl over his shoulders, a belt, in which
were three or four formidable looking daggers with jewelled hilts, and a
curved sword by his side. His dark countenance was unpleasantly savage
and morose, and we felt that our lives would be of little value if they
depended upon the amiability of his disposition. Our captors arranged
us before him, and then appeared to be explaining how they had got
possession of us. He smiled grimly at the narration. As Pember, Dicky
Esse, and I were placed in advance, it was evident that our captors
looked upon us as of more value than the men. This made us hope that
they were entertaining some thoughts of allowing us to be ransomed, for
in every other way the men were likely to prove more useful to them than
we should.

After our captors had said all they had to say, the old chief made a few
remarks in return. Before he had ceased speaking, several of his guards
advanced towards us with their sharp-looking swords glittering in the
sunbeams. It was a moment of intense anxiety. It seemed evident they
intended to kill us. We could, however, neither fly nor defend
ourselves.

"I say, Ben, have you said your prayers?" whispered Dicky to me. "If
not, it is time to begin."

Pember prepared to meet his fate with dogged resolution, his dark red
countenance turning almost to an ashy hue. Kiddle and Brady, as I cast
my eye on them, were evidently preparing to show fight.

"Knock the fellow next you down, Pat," said Toby, "and get hold of his
cutlash. I will treat mine the same, and if we cannot get away we will
die game."

Suddenly our expected executioners stopped, a