s of old bits o' broken iron, and nubbles o'
tin, and shtones. Annythin whin they're spiteful."

"But do you mean to say they'd have dared to fire at a boat with two
Englishmen in it--I mean a man and a boy?" cried Ned, flushing.

"Oh, don't go aiting yer wurruds like that, lad. Shure ye've got the
sperret of a man in ye, if ye're not shix feet high. An' is it fire at
a boat with Englishmen in it? Why, I belave they'd shute at one with
Irishmen in, and I can't say more than that."

"Then we've rowed right into a nest of Malay pirates?"

"Oh no. You people at home might call 'em so, perhaps, but the old un's
jist a rale Malay gintleman--a rajah as lives here in his own country,
and takes toll of iverything that goes up and down. Sure, we do it at
home; only gintalely, and call it taxes and rates and customs. And
they've got customs of the country here."

"But, I say," said Ned, as he found that he was getting a deeper insight
into their position, "the rajah will soon let us go?"

"Will he?"

"Come, answer me. How long will he want us to stay?"

"Oh, for iver, I should say, or as much of it as ye can conthrive to
live."

"You're making fun of me," said Ned, frowning. "But look here; you are
not prisoners."

"Prishoners? No. Isn't the masther the rajah's owen chief docthor, and
Mr Braine his prime-minister, field-marshal, and commander-in-chief."

"Then you people could go when you liked?"

"Oh no. Divil a bit. The old un's so fond of us, he won't let us
shtir, and he always sends four dark gintlemen wid shpears if I think
I'd like to go for a walk."

"Then you are all prisoners?"

"Don't I tell ye no, sor. They don't call it by that name, but we can't
go away."

"Oh, but this is abominable!" cried Ned, looking in the dry, humorous
face before him.

"Ye'll soon get used to it, sor. But just a frindly wurrud. I'd be
civil, for they've an ugly way of handling things here, being
savage-like. There isn't a wan among 'em as knows the vartue of a bit
o' blackthorn, but they handle their shpears dangerously, and ivery
man's got his nasty ugly skewer in his belt--you know, his kris--and
it's out wid it, and ructions before ye know where ye are."

"Yes; I saw that every man had his kris," said Ned, thoughtfully. "But
can you stay and look after the boat?"

"Didn't the masther say I was to. But nobody would dare to touch a
thing here. Here he is."

Ned turned sharply, and saw a little par