verything."

"Oh, that's all right," returned Dent. "Didn't you say you're offering
a reward of L500 for finding the Professor?"

"That's so," replied Risley.

"Very good," said Dent. "Suppose I hit on him first and pick that up.
That'll clear my expenses, and a bit over bar the fun o' the trip."

"Oh, Mr. Dent," said Jack, "we're paying all expenses, of course."

"Better an' better still," chuckled the gunsmith. "I get all the fun
and the chance of L500 thrown in, and the lot for nothing. You can
count in Jim Dent on this game." And so the matter was settled.

CHAPTER VII.

UP THE RIVER.

It was on a Tuesday evening that Risley and Jack entered Dent's shop
in Rangoon: late on the Thursday afternoon the three comrades stepped
out of the train at Mandalay.

"I know a little place down by the river where we can stay quietly,"
said Dent, and they took a carriage and drove down to the banks of the
broad Irrawaddy. Here, at a native rest-house in a riverside village,
they set down their baggage and made a hearty meal in a room whose
window overlooked the noble stream with its crowd of craft.

Before they ate, Dent had an interview with the master of the house, a
short, stout Burman in silken kilt and headgear of flaming scarlet,
and their business was put in hand at once. The Burman sent a native
boatman off to see if Moung San had reached Mandalay.

The meal was scarcely ended before the light sampan was back with good
news. Moung San had been in Mandalay the last two days, and now lay at
his accustomed anchorage.

"That's capital," said Dent. "We'll give old Moung a look up before
the evening's much older."

Half an hour later all three embarked upon the sampan whose owner had
found out the anchorage of Moung San, and the tiny craft was thrust
into the river and pulled across the flowing stream. Jack looked with
much interest on the pretty, picturesque little craft with its bow and
stern curving upwards, and on its boatman, a strong Shan clad in wide
trousers and a great flapping hat, who stood up to his couple of oars
and sent the light skiff along at a good speed. A pull of a mile or
more brought them to the _hnau_, a big native boat moored near the
farther shore of the wide stream. The sampan was directed towards the
lofty and splendidly-carved prow of the _hnau_ and brought to rest.

Now there looked over the side a dark-faced old Burman, whose face
broke into smiles at sight of his old acquain