of this
job. I don't know but what it might be that there smooth young 'un who
dosses hisself up to look like an English gent. If it ain't him, it's
that queer-eyed, big, fat fellow; only I suppose it can't be him,
because old Tipsy Job says he's friends. How comes it, then," he
continued, speaking with energy, "that the Frenchman has had to do with
our being prisoners? Here, I can't think. It's making my head ache and
things get mixed again. What's that?" he half-whispered excitedly.
"It's somebody coming;" and pressing his face closer to the opening, he
strained his eyes round so as to gaze to the left, and then dropped
lightly down before throwing himself upon the dried palm-leaves close to
where Archie lay, and listening to the coming steps. "That chap can
speak English 'most as well as I can," he thought to himself, "and I am
going to ask him plump and plain what's become of Miss Minnie."

A gruff voice uttered what was evidently a command to halt, the wooden
bars were lowered and the door thrown open to admit the deep sunset
glow, and the stern-looking Malay with his following marched in, their
steps rustling amidst the leaves that covered the floor; and the leader
bent down curiously over Archie, scowling at him fiercely, before
turning his lurid eyes searchingly upon the young private, who now lay
back with his lids half-lowered, apparently gazing down into his chest.

The Malay rose again, then turned and gave an order to his followers,
two of whom stepped outside, one of them first standing up the spear he
carried in the dark corner behind the door, while their chief growled
out something as he pointed at the freshly torn opening in the side.
One of the men grunted--it sounded like a grunt to Peter Pegg--and
raising his spear, he passed it through the opening, rattled it to and
fro, and then stepped outside to pick up two or three torn-out pieces of
palm-fibre, brought them in, showed them to his chief, and uttered a
half-laugh.

Just then the two men who had passed outside returned, one bearing a
fresh jar brim-full of water, the other a basket of fruit and another of
the big, roughly made cakes, which were set down.

Then the leader stepped forward, stooped down suddenly over Pegg, his
right hand resting upon the fold of the sarong which covered the hilt of
his kris, and with his left thumb he roughly raised the young private's
eyelids one after the other.

Peter Pegg did not so much as wince.