replied Moung San.

"Been a long cruise in the islands, had he?" said Dent, in a meaning tone. There was silence while the three white men made swift calculations mentally.

"If the yacht is a good sea-boat," said Jack, "they would just about have had the right time to do it, supposing they came up the river two weeks back." He meant the voyage from the Mediterranean, and the others nodded.

The old Burman looked from one to the other gravely. There was something he did not understand behind this, and it was plain that he was about to shape a question.

Buck whispered swiftly to Jack, then spoke:

"Well, Moung San, we must be going. But the son of your old patron wished to see you and to give you a little present because you have served his father."

Jack smiled and pa.s.sed over twenty rupees. Moung San's mouth was at once filled with thanks instead of questions, and an awkward moment pa.s.sed safely.

"I could see the old fellow was going to ask questions," remarked Jim Dent, when they were once more in the sampan, and the big Shan was pulling strongly across the stream. "It was a lucky stroke to stop his mouth with the rupees."

"Yes," said Jack, "it's quite clear he knows nothing about my father's disappearance, or he would have said something. So it was just as well to leave him in ignorance, and escape a lot of talk. You never know where the simplest question may lead you to."

"You don't," agreed Dent. "He may wonder why we want to know about the Ruby King, but as long as he's in the dark about things, he'll put it down to mere curiosity."

CHAPTER VIII.

THE ATTACK ON THE SAMPAN.

Jack nodded and looked out across the wide, shadowy waste of waters which surrounded them. The night had fallen and there was no moon, but the sky was full of the glorious stars of the East, and the great silent river spread itself abroad in the bright starshine till its low distant banks were lost to sight, and the sampan seemed to be crossing a vast lake. Far away up the stream a myriad twinkling lights showed where the shipping lay thickly, and now a huge cargo boat came down stream, its vast bulk looming high above the smooth flood.

Somewhere on the sh.o.r.e a mandoline tinkled, the faint distant notes coming sweetly to them across the water. Jack dropped his hand into the stream and found it warm to the fingers. Then he felt that the river was full of something floating on its surface, which brushed his fingers, and circled about his wrist.

"What's this in the water?" said Jack.

Buck dropped his hand down.

"Paddy-husks, the husk of rice," he replied. "There are rice-mills on the banks up above, and they pitch the husks into the stream. When the mills are busy, the husks cover the river."

"It is a strong current," said Jack.

"Ay, and a very dangerous one," remarked Dent "There's no mercy in this river. It'll sweep you away like the under-tow of a strong tide, and suck you down to feed the crocodiles, if it gets the chance."

For a few moments there was silence, and Jack, who was seated with his face to his companions, watched the big cargo-boat now pa.s.sing them, but a good distance away. Suddenly he sharpened the glance of his keen eyes and looked more intently. A tiny dark patch shot from the shadow of the great vessel and held its way straight towards them.

"There's a boat just come from behind that big ship, and it's making straight for us," said Jack.

"That's queer," said Dent sharply, turning his head to look. "It must have come down stream in shelter of the cargo-boat. I've been keeping a watch on the river round us." He said a few words in the native tongue to the big Shan, and the latter pulled much faster and altered his course a little.

"If they're only making for the sh.o.r.e they'll go straight on," said Jim Dent. "If they're after us, they'll change their course."

"They row fast," said Jack.

Jim spoke to the Shan once more, and a few sentences pa.s.sed between them.

"It's one of those long creek skiffs, pulled by six men," announced Jim. "He knows by the shape of it on the water and the sound of the oars."

"Think they're after us, Jim?" asked Buck in a low voice.

"I don't know, Buck," replied Dent. "But I wish we were ash.o.r.e. This isn't a country to take any chances in."

All three watched the dark, long shape behind them, and the Shan pulled with all his might.

"It's after us." Jim Dent's low, fierce tones broke into the tense silence, and Buck gave a growl of anger.

"What's their game?" he muttered.

"Run us down, there's no doubt of it," replied Dent. "That skiff is built of stiff teak planks, with a nose as sharp and hard as an iron spike. If they once hit this light sampan they'll cut it in two and scupper us."

"Ay, ay," said Buck, "and drop an oar on the head of a man who tries to swim."

The long narrow row-boat was now heading for them as straight as an arrow. There could be no doubt of the rowers' intent. They meant to run down the slight sampan and hurl its occupants into the deadly current below. Driven by six powerful oarsmen, the skiff was coming on at tremendous speed, and the sh.o.r.e was still a dim and distant line.

Jim Dent spoke again quickly to the Shan, and the latter made a swift reply and bent to his oars with all his might. He understood their danger better than any one, supposing that his light vessel was run down, and he beat the water with long powerful strokes which drove the tiny craft forward with great power. Jim Dent had begun to rummage in the stern, and soon drew out a broad-bladed steering paddle. He dipped this into the water and added a strong dexterous stroke to the efforts of the boatman; now the sampan began to fly.

"Isn't there anything for us, Jim?" cried Jack. "Must we sit idle?"

"There's not another thing to pull with in the boat," said Dent. "I'll lay in with all the strength I've got with this paddle. We'll take turns at it."

Now commenced a stern, fierce race for life. The two men in the sampan fought with set brows and clenched teeth to gain the far-off sh.o.r.e and save the lives of themselves and their comrades. The six rowers in the long skiff lashed the water furiously with their oars in order to overtake and ram the slight vessel they pursued. One, two, three hundred yards were covered. Jack's heart sank. The skiff had gained terribly. Manned by six powerful oarsmen, she was cutting down the distance between them with frightful rapidity. In the sampan the Shan was still pulling with undiminished energy, but Jim Dent was beginning to pant. Buck seized the paddle from his grip and took a turn. But the skiff continued to come up hand over hand.

"She'll get us long before we reach the sh.o.r.e," murmured Dent as he marked the relative distances, and he spoke in the native tongue with the Shan, who only answered with a grunt or two which had a sound of acquiescence.

"Give me the paddle, Buck," said Dent.

"No, no," said Jack, "it's my turn." Every muscle in his body was tingling to put its strength against the smooth current and the weight of the sampan.

"We're going to try a little trick," said Dent, and Jack perforce had to sit still. He glanced down the river and saw a light low on the water, as if a boat was coming towards them. He wondered whether it meant chance of help, but in any case, it was far off, and the enemy were now terribly near, and his attention was drawn again to their position of immense peril.

Dent and the boatman were now pulling easily, and the long skiff darted up to them faster and faster still. Jack watched their pursuers with a fascinated eye. There was not the faintest sound made, save for the regular plash of the rising and falling oars. They were so near that he could see the naked backs of the oarsmen glisten as they swung their bodies to and fro in the starshine. Nearer, nearer, came the long darting skiff.

Jack held his breath. The sharp nose was within half a dozen feet of the stern of the flying sampan, for Dent and the boatman were once more pulling with all their might. For the first time a sound was heard from the pursuing boat. A single word rang out from the steersman, and the rowers bent to one last tremendous effort to hurl their stout skiff upon the fragile sampan. But at that very instant Jim Dent dipped his paddle deep on the left side, the Shan made a corresponding movement with his oars, and the light vessel spun round on her heel and darted away from the impending stroke.

So close were the two boats when this skilful manoeuvre was executed that the dripping bow oar of the pursuers was flourished almost in Jack's face as the sampan flew round. He seized it, but did not attempt to s.n.a.t.c.h it from the oarsman's clutch. He had no time for that, but he made splendid use of the chance afforded him. He gave it a tremendous push, and released it. The rower, caught by surprise, was flung over the opposite gunwale, and the skiff was nearly upset. As the sampan darted away on her new course, the skiff was left floundering on the water.

"Good for you," chuckled Dent, who had seen the swift action and the confusion it caused; "that's given us twenty yards," and now he allowed Jack to seize the paddle. Kneeling on one knee in the bottom of the sampan, Jack put all his strength into the strokes of the broad paddle. He had paddled a canoe often enough at home on the river which ran near the school, and his powerful young arms backed up the boatman's efforts to such purpose that the sampan travelled as it had never done before. Behind him he heard the fierce swish of oars, and knew that the skiff was once more in hot pursuit.

Suddenly, without a hint of warning, the end came. Jack was just beginning to thrust the paddle down for a strong, deep stroke when the sampan struck something. The shock was so great that Jack was flung on his face. As he sprang up again he heard Buck cry, "She's. .h.i.t a floating log." The sampan was uninjured. She had struck the obstacle with her tough keel-piece, and had been turned aside at right angles.

The Shan had been flung down too, but was up in an instant and gathering his oars. But this loss of a moment gave the pursuing skiff her chance. Driven by twelve brawny arms, held straight as a dart, her sharp beak of stout, hard teak crashed into the light gunwale of the sampan, hit her broadside, and cut the little vessel down to the water's edge.

Scarcely recovered from the first shock, the second hurled Jack headlong. He felt the sampan turn turtle under him, and in another second he was shot into the dark, fierce current, and felt the waters close over his head.