George Fenn - Jungle and Stream - or, The Adventures of Two Boys in Siam

"We're getting close to the mouth of the little river," he said.

"I'm glad of it," said Harry cheerfully. "I say, they have been quick; it's hot work for them."

"Yes," said Phra, "but they'll have a good rest soon while we're going slowly, and there will be nothing to do but steer, going back."

"I say, suppose they get back first with the tiger."

"I hope they will not," cried Phra; "but it isn't likely. They've a long way to go, and the beating will take a long time. We shall be back first. Ugh, you brute!" he whispered, reaching for his gun, cocking both barrels softly, and taking aim at a large crocodile.

Snip! snap! and then a splash, as the reptile disappeared.

"I don't think you have killed it," said Harry seriously, but with his eyes dancing with mischief.

"Ah, you're better," cried Phra pettishly. "You don't want to run amok now. How could I be so stupid! I never thought about not being loaded."

"Better think about it now," said Harry, beginning the operation in the tedious, old-fashioned way that ruled so long before the cartridge was invented for a sportsman's use. "But we were only to shoot birds, I thought."

"Yes, birds, and only beautiful specimens," replied Phra. "I couldn't help being tempted to fire at the brute, though. I shall always be shooting at them now."

"Here we are," said Harry, and at a word from Phra the light sampan was guided into a sluggish side stream only some twenty yards or so wide, while on either side the trees rose like a wall of verdure, the water lapping the leaves, which dipped and played up and down with the motion of the stream.

"You take that side and I'll take this," said Phra; and then giving the order to the rower in front, the man ceased paddling and made his way right astern, to squat down on the little platform beside his fellow, who cleverly propelled and steered the light craft with his one oar, leaving the look-out forward free for the gunners.

"Hullo! How are you, old gentleman?" cried Harry suddenly, as a grey-bearded, venerable-looking little face was suddenly thrust out through the leaves, so that its owner could look down at the strange visitors to his wild home.

There was a sharp chattering, the head of the monkey was drawn back, and then a rustling and waving of the boughs on the left began, going on a little in front.

"There's a whole troop of them travelling along," said Harry.

"Yes, and they'll scare all the birds," cried Phra. "Look, they've startled those lovely parroquets. What's to be done?"

"They'll soon go," replied Harry. "Row away."

The man astern thrust the boat along with his easy, Venice-like manipulation of the oar, and the light boat glided on right in the centre of the beautiful green lane with its watery floor; but the wave as it seemed to be likewise glided along, with a peculiar rustle in the foliage some twenty yards in front.

There was not a sound beside, save when, further ahead, some parroquet darted out with a shriek to cross to the other side of the stream, or a sharp flapping of wings told that it was a dove darting frantically through the twigs to escape from enemies with a great love for eggs, and no objection to savoury, plump morsels in the shape of half-fledged young, by way of change from a fruit diet.

"Let's stop," said Phra, on seeing that the undulation in the green wall on their left kept on at about the same rate.

"Stop, and let them go on?" said Harry. "Very well."

At a word the man ceased paddling, the boat glided on from the impetus already given, but less and less fast, till completely overcome by the stream it was meeting, it gradually came to a standstill, and was on the point of giving way and being borne back, when Harry burst into a hearty laugh, which had the result of making the grey, inquiring face of the monkey that had just peered out, pop back again.

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