The Rajah of Dah Part 51

"I'm sorry for you, boys," said Tim; "for that's a drop of good stuff,"

and he replaced the bottle. "But, look here," he said, with a laugh, "left from up-stairs;" and holding up the basket, he took out a cake or sweet of the kind cleverly concocted by the Malay women, and began to eat. "Any one do a bit in this way!" he continued, with his mouth full.

If he had offered the bottle now, they would have drunk from it to a man, and after a momentary pause the chief of the guard took a cake from the basket, broke off a sc.r.a.p, removed his betel-nut, tasted the sweet, took a good bite, and uttered a low guttural order; which resulted in each man taking a cake, the last man growing excited from the belief that they would not go round; but there was just one each, and the head-man spoke again, with the result that his men went back to their posts eating greedily, while Tim stood in the darkness trembling with excitement.

"Well," he said, fearing to betray himself; "now then for my snooze.

Good-night!"

The Malay laid his hand upon his shoulder. "Stop!" he said, "let me taste from the bottle."

"Don't apologise," said Tim, wilfully misunderstanding him. "I was always the man to respect any one who stood by his religion, and so was my mother before me. Good-night."

Tim turned into the house. "Oh, murther," he muttered, returning to his own tongue; "the wine might have shpoilt the docthor's rat poison. What an eshcape!"

"Well?" whispered Mr Braine and the doctor in a breath, as Tim appeared looking white and scared.

"Oh, they've tuk it, ivery mother's son of thim, gintlemen; an' if they all die, docthor, don't go and say it was me doing when I'm not here."

"Die? Nonsense!"

"Oh no, it isn't, sor, and I've made a dhreadful mistake."

"Mistake? Failed?" cried Mr Braine, horrified.

"Sure no, sor, I haven't failed; I've succayded too much."

"But you said you had made a mistake, man."

"Yes, sor. I tuk wan of the cakes meself."

The announcement was received with a blank look of despair.

"Sure sor, don't stand looking at me loike that, please. Thin aren't ye going to give me an anecdote?"

"No antidote would be available, my poor fellow. But how could you make such a blunder? I showed you so carefully."

"Sure ye did, sor, but I was a bit flurried."

"You ate a cake?"

"Oh yes, sor," said Tim, dismally. "I ate wan, and I didn't taste the shtuff till it was down."

"But you couldn't taste it, man."

"Sure, sor, but I did quite sthrong," groaned Tim, sinking on one of the divans.

"But tell me, how do you feel?"

"Horrid bad, sor; shlapy, and it's creeping up me legs. Ye'll have to carry me or lave me behind."

"Whatever can we do?" said Mr Braine.

"Perhaps exertion and the night air will revive him," said the doctor.

"I'll give him something too."

He hastily mixed a draught, which Tim drank gratefully, and then lay back with Frank supporting his head.

"How long will it be before the potion acts on the men?" said Mr Braine.

"Very few minutes before it begins, but of course not on all alike.

Some one must steal down and watch."

"I'll go," said Frank, and creeping down to the lower rooms--the sheds used by the women and Tim--he stood close to the door, and then by degrees from bush to bush, on and on, till in less than half an hour he was back with the expectant group.

"They are all sleeping heavily," he said. "How is Tim?"

His father pointed to the divan, where the man lay apparently insensible, with Mr Greig bathing his head.

"It is all over," said Braine, sadly; "we cannot leave the poor fellow."

"Oh!" cried Frank, dashing at the man and shaking him violently.

"All right. Moind me head, Masther Frank! I'm ready, sor."

"Can you walk?"

"Can I walk? Hark at him," said Tim, drowsily. "I'll show ye all."

"Here, we'll try," said Mr Braine. "Take these. Put the revolver in his breast. Can you carry a gun, man?"

"For sartain," said Tim, stupidly.

"Then ready. Not a moment is to be lost," whispered Mr Braine. "Lead the way, Frank, and if we by chance are separated, every one is to make for the tall clump of trees this side of the stockade."

"And chirp like this," said Frank, imitating a bird. "That will bring the boat."

"Then forward. Not a word."

They stepped out on to the veranda, and gazed down into the black darkness, with the lightning still quivering and flickering in the distance.

All was perfectly still in the garden for a few moments, and then there was a heavy stertorous breathing, which sounded louder as they descended and pa.s.sed quickly on down to the gate; Tim staggering a little, but keeping step for step with the doctor, who supported him by the arm.

Frank led as he had been instructed, and heard the heavy breathing to right and left; but it was not until he reached the entrance that he really came in contact with the guards, for there lay one right across the path, and another had his arms folded on the bamboo top rail of the gate, and hindered further progress.

To step over the prostrate man was easy, but this other completely barred the way. Frank waited till his father came up, and he heard him draw his breath heavily, and stand thinking.

"We cannot stand over trifles now," said Mr Braine. "Desperate remedies are our only hope;" and, after hesitating a moment or two, he gently pa.s.sed his arm round the soft lithe body of the Malay, lifted him from the gate, and let him sink to the ground beside his companion.

Those were critical moments, and all looked on trembling; but the man only muttered a little, and, with a heavy sigh, went off into a deeper sleep.