rom a great distance.

The result was a burst of barking, followed by a series of the most
piteous howls, wild and prolonged, such as an animal might utter who was
suffering from some terrible torture.

"That'll fetch him," whispered Billy; and he seemed to be right, for, as
the howling continued, Jack grew restless. He sat up, listened, threw
himself down, turned over, then on the other side, and ended by bursting
out into a fit of chattering, and going at full speed along the deck to
the hatchway, down which he disappeared at a bound, old practice
teaching him that he would drop upon the steps, and his experience being
right.

"Come along," said Billy chuckling. "I told you so, Mr Mark, sir; I
told you so. I thought it was his games."

Billy Widgeon took up the sheepskin rug, and carried it down below in
the forecastle, while, when Bruff was let loose, and the two animals
returned on deck, Jack walked slowly to his sunny corner, and stood
staring about him as if unable to make out what it all meant, ending by
lying down on the bare deck.

But this did not seem to afford any satisfaction, and as if realising
that his companion was quite well once more, Bruff charged at him, and
rolled him over. Jack retaliated by getting hold of his curly coat with
both hands, and making a playful bite at his neck, when the game went
on, and for the next half-hour they were frisking and bounding about the
deck till they were tired, and Bruff found a sunny spot for a nap, as
Jack had sought refuge among the sails.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

HOW MARK FIRST TASTED JUNGLE.

A hot but uneventful voyage succeeded, during which the passengers were
well roasted in the Suez Canal, and saturated with the steamy moisture
of Ceylon, where Mark stared with wonder at the grandees, whose costume
strongly resembled that of some gorgeously-decked little girl of fifty
years ago dressed up for a party.

Then there was a glimpse of Sumatra, and a stay at busy bazaar-like
Singapore, with its shipping of all nations from great steamers down to
Malay praus, with their bamboo sides and decks, and copper-coloured
wide-nostrilled Malays in little flat military caps, and each wearing
the national check sarong, so much after the fashion of a Highlander's
tartan, baju jacket, and deadly-looking kris.

"Yes, these are Malays, Mark," said Mr Morgan as they stood gazing over
the side at the hundreds of vessels of all sizes. "Clever sailors they
are too."