style="font-size:15px;"> "The men were at work in the new sugar plantation," said the man quietly.
"Well, we don't want to go hunting men," cried Harry impatiently.
"And the tiger leaped out of the edge of the jungle, caught the man by the shoulder, and carried him away."
"Ah!" cried Phra excitedly; "why didn't you tell us that at first?"
"Because he kept it back for the last," said Harry. "That's just his way."
"Would the Sahib and my Prince like to try and shoot the tiger?" asked
Sree.
"Would we? Why, of course we would," cried Harry excitedly. "What shall we do? Have a place made in a tree?"
"No, Sahib," replied the man, shaking his head. "If it were a cow or one of the oxen, I would make a place in a tree near the spot where he had dragged the beast, for he would come back to feed upon it as soon as it grew dark; but it was not an ox nor a cow. The poor man has been taken away to the wat, and his wife and friends have paid all they could for him to be burned."
"What shall we do, then?"
"It is of no use to go without a couple of elephants and beaters to drive the tiger out."
Harry looked round at Phra, who nodded his head quietly.
"Very well," he said; "we'll have the elephants out, and men to beat.
When shall we go? To-morrow?"
"Yes, my Prince; to-morrow when the tiger will be lying asleep."
"I'll go and speak to my father," said Phra. "He will not care to come himself, but your father and Doctor Cameron will be sure to say that they will come."
"Yes, of course," said Harry. "But I say, only to think of old Sree here knowing of this tiger, and not saying a word!"
"I was going to tell you, Sahib, before I went away."
"But why didn't you tell us before?"
"Because I did not know, Sahib, till a little while ago, when he came to find me and bring me the news."
He pointed as he spoke to an ordinary-looking peasant who was squatted a little way off beneath the trees, chewing his betel.
The lads had not noticed the man before, as he had shrunk away more into the shade on seeing them come out.
"He brought you the bad news?" said Phra.
"Yes, my Prince. He went to find me yonder after coming across from his village, and no one could tell him where I had gone, till at last he saw the Sahib doctor's boatmen, and they told him that I was here."
"Then I will go and tell my father we want the elephant," said Phra.
"You go and speak to them indoors, for we must kill that wretch."
"If we can," said Harry, smiling; "but Mr. Stripes is sometimes rather hard to find."
Phra nodded, and went across the garden on his way to the palace, while Harry went back into the house, Mike waiting till his young master's back was turned and then handing the gun he was finishing to the old hunter.
"You may as well do this, Sree," he said; "you clean guns so much better than I can."
The old hunter smiled, as he waited to examine the points of the spears his men had been polishing, and then good-humouredly took the gun to finish after his own fashion, for there was a good deal of truth in what Mike Dunning had said.
CHAPTER VII
THE BRINK OF A VOLCANO
The boys were quite wrong in imagining that their act of escaping from the museum had passed unnoticed, for as soon as they had passed out of hearing the doctor nodded his head and threw himself back in his cane chair.
"Now we are alone," he said to Mr. Kenyon, "I may as well tell you what I have heard."
"Nothing serious, I hope?"
"No – yes. It may be either," replied the doctor. "I would not say anything before the boys, for it might make Phra uneasy."
"And Harry?" said Mr. Kenyon.
"No, I think not. I don't believe he would give the matter a second thought."
"You are hard upon the boy," said Mr. Kenyon, rather sternly.
"Not in the least," said the doctor, smiling. "It is his nature. I don't think the matter is really of any consequence, but it would have upset Phra, who is as sensitive as a girl; and he would be worrying himself, and thinking about it for weeks, beside exaggerating the matter on his father's account."
"What is it, then – some trouble with our friend the other king?"
"Friend, eh? I believe that if he could have his own way every European would be driven out of the country – or into the river," he added to himself – "before we were twenty-four hours older."
"What is the fresh trouble, now?"
"Nothing fresh about it, Kenyon. It is the stale old matter. Here we have two parties in the country."
"Yes, and worse still, two kings," interposed Mr. Kenyon.
"Exactly, each having his own party. The one wants to see the country progress and become prosperous and enlightened; the other for it to keep just as it was five hundred years ago; and the worst of it is nearly all the people are on the stand-still side."
"Yes," said Mr. Kenyon. "The old traditions and superstitions suit the indolent nature of the people."
"And the progress the King is making offends their prejudices."
"You mean the prejudices of the bonzes," said Mr. Kenyon sadly.
"Exactly; that is what I do mean, and they are getting so thick with the second king, that I sometimes begin to be afraid that we shall have trouble."
"You have had that idea for a long time now, but the reigning King holds so strong a position that his kinsman dare not rise against him. He is as gentle and amiable a man as could exist, but there is the old Eastern potentate in him still, and our friend number two knows perfectly well that if he attempted to rise he would be pretty well sure to fail, and then his head would fall as surely as if our old Harry the Eighth were on the throne."
"But would he fail? All the bonzes are on his side."
"Yes," said Mr. Kenyon, laughing; "and they'd tell him to go on and prosper, but they would not fight."
"No, they would not fight," said the doctor musingly.
"Do you think there is a regular conspiracy?"
"I really do sometimes, and it makes me uneasy."
"That is because you are a young married man, and fidget about your wife."
"Well, and quite naturally."
"Yes, quite naturally, of course; but when you have been here as long as I have,
