th one hand while he stretched out the other to him.

"I am all right now as far as colour goes, Wilcox. Now, do you stay here
and I will crawl along by the side of the hut and have a look up and down
the street. I did not see a soul between the row of huts when I was in the
tree."

When Stephen peeped out by the side of the hut he saw that there were
several people about, apparently returning from the spot where they had
congregated. He rejoined his companion, and they waited an hour. By this
time perfect silence had fallen on the village. The heat was intense, and
even in the forest all sound had ceased, as if birds and insects were
alike indulging in a mid-day sleep.

"I will go and have a look again now," Stephen said. "If I find no one
about I will cross the street and try to cut the ropes, and bring him here
at once. If there is a guard over him I will come back again to you. We
ought to be able to silence the guard without his giving the alarm,
especially as he is likely to be half-asleep."

"You had better leave your pistols here, Master Steve, and take your
cutlass. A pistol-shot now would bring the whole village down on us, and
we should have no chance of getting through the swamp with a hundred of
those fellows after us. You had better draw your sword, and leave the
scabbard and belt here. In the first place, it is handier to have the
sword ready; and it is not so likely to knock against anything when you
have got it in your hand as it would be trailing behind you as you crawl
along. I shall be on the look-out, sir, and shall be by your side in a
brace of shakes if you hail."

Stephen parted the bushes, and then stepped lightly to the corner of the
hut. Not a soul was to be seen moving about, and he dashed across to the
house opposite, crawled along by its side, and then looked round. The
great fire had burned low, and Stephen shuddered as his eye fell upon the
mass of embers and thought of what was lying below them. There was no one
about--the whole of the natives had retired to their huts. In another
moment he was beside the prisoner. It was Joyce. Bands of cord-like
creepers were wrapped round his legs; his wrists were tied together, and
from them a rope went to a peg four feet beyond him, extending his arms at
full length beyond his head. A similar fastening from his ankles kept his
legs at full stretch in the other direction. Fastened thus, the Malays
evidently considered that there was no necessity