ou see danger in
a paddle across the river."

"Ah, well, perhaps I do," said the merchant, taking off his light pith
sun-hat to wipe his shining brow. "You really mean to go right up the
river, then?"

"Of course. What did you think I made these preparations for?"

"To make a few short expeditions, and come back to me to sleep and feed.
Well, if you will go, good-luck go with you. I don't think I can do
any more for you. I believe you may trust those fellows," he added in a
low voice, after a glance at the four bronzed-looking strong-armed Malay
boatmen, each with a scarlet handkerchief bound about his black hair as
he sat listlessly in the boat, his lids nearly drawn over his brown
lurid-looking eyes, and his thick lips more protruded than was natural,
as he seemed to have turned himself into an ox-like animal and to be
chewing his cud.

"You could not have done more for me, Wilson, if I had been your
brother."

"All Englishmen and Scotsmen are brothers out in a place like this,"
said the merchant, warmly. "Go rather hard with some of us if we did
not stick to that creed. Well, look here, if ever you get into any
scrape up yonder, send down a message to me at once."

"To say, for instance, that a tiger has walked off with Ned here."

"Oh I say, uncle!" cried the boy.

"No, no, I mean with the niggers. They're a rum lot, some of them.
Trust them as far as you can see them. Be firm. They're cunning; but
just like children in some things."

"They're right enough, man, if you don't tread on their corns. I always
find them civil enough to me. But if we do get into trouble, what shall
you do?"

"Send you help of course, somehow. But you will not be able to send a
letter," added the merchant thoughtfully. "Look here. If you are in
trouble from sickness, or hurt by any wild animal, get some Malay fellow
from one of the campongs to bring down a handkerchief--a white one. But
if you are in peril from the people up yonder, send a red one, either
your own or one of the boatmen's. You will find it easy to get a red
rag of some sort."

"I see," said Murray, smiling. "White, sickness; red, bloodshed.--I say
Ned, hear all this?"

"Yes, uncle."

"Well; don't you feel scared?"

"Horribly, uncle," said the boy, coolly.

"Will you give up, and stop here in Dindong?"

The boy looked full in the speaker's face, thrust his hands into the
pockets of his brown linen trousers, and began to whistle softly.