rime by trying to recall the
fact that he had not slept the previous night, and that he had been
completely exhausted.

There was the fact staring him in the face; he had been lying there
thinking of escaping, and listening to the cries of the prowling tigers,
and--"Stop," he asked himself, "where did the reality end and dreaming
begin? Did he see the Malay get up and hurl a torch out of the open
door, and then come back and lie down?"

Yes, he felt sure that was true, but where that which he was watching
shaded off into dreamland, he could not tell.

It was weak, perhaps, but the scalding tears rose and filled his eyes,
and when he passionately dashed them away and sat up, he felt ready to
make a fierce rush through his guard, and either escape or die.

He was on the point of risking all in some such mad attempt when two of
the men came in, proceeded to make a careful inspection of the place
where he was, and then sat down just in the opening, getting up soon
afterwards, though, to make way for another, who brought in some food on
fresh plantain leaves, rice freshly boiled with fowl, and curry made
with freshly-grated cocoa-nut and peppers. There was an abundance of
fruit, too, but Ali looked at it all with a feeling of disgust. He had
no desire to eat.

The men left the food on its fresh green leaves before him, and went out
to their own meal, while the prisoner sat thinking that the expedition
had by this time started, for he had slept long in spite of his
troublous dream. Then his thoughts turned to the steamer and Bob
Roberts, whose frank, happy face was always before him, and then somehow
he thought of the steamer and its powerful engine, and how it was kept
going with fuel and water; and that set him thinking of himself. How
was he to help his friends if he let himself get weak for want of food.

The result was, that he ate a few grains of rice, when the want of
appetite disappeared, and he went on and made a very hearty meal. He
felt annoyed, though, directly after, to find his captors smile as they
came to remove the fragments of his feast.

Then began once more the terrible hours of anxiety, during which he
paced up and down his prison like some wild beast, his guards squatting
outside, and watching him in the most imperturbable manner, as they
chewed their betel, or varied it by smoking.

So long as he seemed disposed to make no effort to escape they were
civil enough, one offering him, betel,