we'll call it.--But it
seems to me, Mr Braine, that if we do not mind our P's and Q's, we
shall be prisoners indeed."

Mr Braine made no reply, but his looks seemed to endorse the other's
words.

CHAPTER SIX.

MAKING THE BEST OF IT.

"Ned," said Mr Murray, as they reached the doctor's, "run and tell the
boatmen we are going to stay," and Ned started off.

The boatmen did not seem in the least degree surprised upon Ned
announcing to them that they were to stay for the present. "It is
kismet--fate," said Hamet, calmly.

"I could have told ye that before," said a voice; and, looking up, Ned
saw the good-humoured sun-browned face of the Irishman just projecting
over the edge of the bamboo jetty, where he lay upon his chest smoking a
pipe.

"Hullo! I'd forgotten you," said Ned, who had come down very thoughtful
and dull.

"Faix, and I hadn't forgotten you. Didn't ye tell me to mind your duds
and things in the boat, sor?"

"They did; I didn't. I say, if you knew that we should stay, why didn't
you--But never mind."

The man gave him a droll look.

"There ye needn't mind spaking out," he said. "I know. The old 'un
won't let ye go away again."

"You know him?" said Ned excitedly.

"Av course I do. He niver lets any one go that he wants to stay."

"Then why didn't you, an Englishman--Irishman, I mean--"

"That's better, sor, though any one would hardly know me for an Irishman
by my spache. Sure there are times when I haven't a bit of brogue left.
It's the sun dhries it out of me, I think."

"But why didn't you warn us?"

"Because there'd a been a regular shaloo if I had. The other gintleman
would have told your men here to pull away, and the dhragon boat would
have been afther ye shying shpears, and you'd have been shuting, and the
end would have been that ye'd been hurt; and think o' that now."

"But we should have rowed right away."

"Divil a bit. They'd soon have caught ye or been firing their brass
lalys at yez."

"What's a brass laly?" said Ned.

"Get out wid ye, sor: poking fun at me. Who said a wurrud about lalys?
I said lalys."

"Well, so did I."

"Not a bit of it; ye said lalys."

"So did you."

"Not I. I said laly."

"Spell it then."

"Is it shpell it. Well then, l-e-l-a-h, laly. It's a big brass
blunderbush thing on a shwivel. There's two of 'em on each of their
prahus, and they send a ball about two pound-weight sometimes, and other
times a couple o' handful