th the occasional mutterings of their guard.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

NED IS OBSTINATE.

Tim acted his part well. He strolled out from his "panthry," and
sauntered along to where the chief of the guard stood gazing at him
sternly; and trusting to the pretty good smattering of Malay he had
picked up, he said quietly: "Going to be on guard all night?" The Malay
nodded.

"Sorry for you," said Tim, beginning to fill his pipe. "I did six
months' soldiering myself when I was a mere lad, and it was hard work
keeping awake on sentry-go."

He struck a match and lit his pipe, lighting up the scowling face of the
guard and his own good-humoured phiz.

"I say," he continued, "next boat you gentlemen overhaul, look sharp
after the matches, if they've brought any up from Malacca, for we're
getting short, and I don't care to take to the flint and steel."

Tim nodded and went on, smoking, to make the round of the place,
stopping to say a word or two to the other armed men in his easy
good-tempered way, seasoning his remarks with a joke or two, while the
lightning flickered in a bank of black clouds across the river.

By degrees he made his way back to the head-man, and began to talk
confidentially.

"I say," he said, "I suppose we shall all be big people now, when the
rajah has married me young lady."

The Malay laughed softly, contemptuously. "Oh yes," he said. "Perhaps
he'll make you Muntrie or Tumongong."

"Get out, making fun of a boy," said Tim, good-humouredly. "Well,
good-luck to you, I've nearly finished my pipe. I'm tired, and going in
to sleep. Take care of us. Good-night."

The Malay wished him good-night, and Tim turned to go, but stopped and
pulled out his pouch.

"Have a bit o' tibakky!" he said. "It's the master's. Some the rajah
gave him."

The Malay nodded eagerly, and Tim gave him two or three pipefuls.

"Here," he said, "I've got a lot. The master don't like it, and tells
me to help myself. I'll fetch a bit for the other boys."

Tim lounged off, and at the end of a few minutes, with a small basket
made of thin strips of bamboo, and still smoking, sauntered up to the
head-man.

"Call 'em up," he said, in a low voice. "Don't talk loud; they've not
gone to bed yet indoors."

The Malay gave Tim a peculiar searching look, but the Irishman was
tapping the ash out of his pipe and putting it in his pocket, after
which he took a brass box from the basket just as the Malay uttered a
lo