the
river's bottom, and by means of this balanced pole the net was let down
into the depths of the river, and hoisted from time to time, sometimes
with a few glittering little fish within the meshes, sometimes having
nothing but weed.

"Yes, catchee fish; catchee velly big fish some time."

About ten minutes after, Ching pulled my sleeve and pointed to the other
side of the river, where I caught sight of a very familiar old friend
sitting in his boat, just as I had seen him in an old picture-book at
home.

There he sat with a big umbrella-like sunshade fixed up over him on a
bamboo pole, in front of him a kind of platform spread across the front
of his moored boat, and upon it sat perched eight or nine of my old
friends the cormorants, one of which dived into the river from time to
time, and soon after emerged and made its way back to the boat with a
fish in its beak.

"See that, Mr Brooke?" I cried eagerly. "I suppose we can't stop to
watch them?"

"Not when on Her Majesty's service, Herrick," he said, with a smile, and
we glided rapidly on, till the houses, which had long been growing
scattered, finally disappeared, and we were following the windings of
the river in company with a few small junks and sampans, which seemed
bound for one of the cities higher up the great waterway.

"Shoot bird now," said Ching, in answer to an inquiring look from Mr
Brooke.

"Yes; but do you think the junks are up here?"

"Oh yes, velly quite su'e. Plenty eye in boat watchee see what Queen
Victolia offlicer going to do uppee river."

"What does he mean?" said Mr Brooke, who was puzzled by this last
rather enigmatical speech. "Of course we have watchful eyes in our
boat, but I don't see anything yet worth watching."

"He means that very likely there are friends of the pirates in one of
these boats, and that we had better begin shooting, so as to take off
attention from our real purpose."

"Yes, allee same; p'laps pilate fliend in lit' boat go and tell Queen
Victolia foleign devil sailor boy come catchee."

"Oh, I see," said Mr Brooke. Then, turning to me, "You do understand a
little French, don't you?"

"Well, sir, I used to learn some at school," I replied, feeling very
doubtful about my proficiency.

"I daresay you can understand my Stratford-atte-Bow French," said Mr
Brooke, laughing.

"I'll try, sir," I said; and he said to me directly in excellent
French--

"I feel doubtful about this man. You have seen