For Name and Fame; Or, Through Afghan Passes. Henty George Alfred

lots, in breaking open the barrels, and I am famishing."

      Hans rose with alacrity, and they soon were at work collecting pieces of biscuits.

      "Let us gather up all the pieces, carefully. There are a good lot, altogether; and we may want them, badly, before we have done."

      In half an hour they had collected about 30 pounds of biscuits and, having gone to the stream and taken a drink, they made for the spot where their tent had stood. As they expected, they found the canvas was gone. They set to work with their knives and, cutting a number of boughs, erected a shelter sufficient to shield them from the night air.

      All day they hoped, but in vain, that some of their comrades would return, and listened eagerly to every sound in the forest; but no call, or footstep, met their ears. They had no means of lighting a fire, the first having been lit by the mate who–being a smoker–had had a small tin box of matches in his pocket. This had fitted closely, and kept out the water.

      "What had we better do, if no one comes back?" Will said, as they sat in their little hut.

      "Build anoder boat," Hans answered.

      "But how are we to do that, Hans? We might make the framework, but we have no canvas to cover it with. Besides, even if we had, I have no idea of the direction of Singapore, and I doubt if we could find our way back to Java."

      Hans had no further suggestion to offer.

      "I suppose we could live in the forest for some time," Will said. "I read a book called Robinson Crusoe, and a sailor there lived on a desert island for years; but then he had a gun, and all sorts of things. There are plenty of birds but, even if we could make bows and arrows, I suppose we should be months before we could shoot straight enough to hit them."

      Several days passed. The lads found plenty of fruit; but the season was advancing, and Will said one day to Hans:

      "What on earth are we to do, when the fruit and biscuits are all finished?"

      Wandering in the woods, they found the bodies of the whole of their companions. All were headless, the Malays having carried off these coveted trophies. They did not attempt to bury the bodies for, in such a climate, decomposition sets in rapidly, and swarms of insects complete the work. In the grass near the hut they found one treasure–the mate's ax–which had evidently fallen from his belt, in his flight, and had been overlooked by the Malays.

      "I tell you what, Hans," Will said, one day, "fruit is getting scarcer and scarcer, and there are not more than five or six pounds of biscuits left. I vote that we make through the forest into the interior of the island. There must be some villages scattered about. If we enter one boldly, they may not kill us. I don't know whether they have any respect for the laws of hospitality, as some savages have but, even if they did kill us, it's better than being starved to death, here. It's a chance, anyhow.

      "What do you say, Hans?"

      "I don't zay noding," Hans answered. "I don't have no obinion, at all. If you dink zat is ze best plan, let us do it."

      So saying, Hans collected the biscuit, tied it up in his handkerchief, and was ready to start at once.

      "There is no hurry, Hans," Will said, laughing; "still, if we are to make a start, we may as well go at once."

      Turning their backs upon the sea, they struck into the wood. They had never before gone farther than a mile from the shore. After an hour's walking, they found that the character of the forest was changing: the ground rose rapidly, the thick, tangled undergrowth disappeared, and they were able to walk briskly forward, under the shade of the large trees. The hill became steeper and steeper, as they advanced; and Will knew that they were ascending the hill that they had seen from the ship, when she was coming towards the shore.

      Three hours after leaving the coast, they were upon its top. The ground was rocky here and, in some places, bare of trees. Inland, they saw hill rising behind hill, and knew that the island must be a large one.

      "Look, Hans, there is smoke curling up at the foot of that hill, over there. Don't you see it? It is very faint, but it is certainly smoke. There must be a house there and, most likely, a village.

      "Come on, we shall get there before the sun sets. I don't think it can be more than a mile and a half away."

      Hans, as usual, assented and, in about half an hour, they arrived at a Malay village. The aspect was curious, each hut being built in a tree. At the point where the lower branches started, a platform was made. The tree above this was cut down, and on the platform the hut was erected–access being obtained to it by a ladder. Several of the inhabitants were walking about. These, upon seeing the lads, uttered cries of warning and, instantly flying to the ladders, which were constructed of light bamboo, climbed to the huts and raised the ladders after them. Then, at every door, men appeared with bent bows and pointed arrows, threatening the invaders.

      Will had cut a green bough, and this he waved as a token of peace; while Hans threw up his hands, to show that he was unarmed. Then they bowed several times, almost to the ground; held out their arms with outstretched hands and, finally, sat down upon the ground.

      The Malays apparently understood that their visitors came in peace. They held a long conversation among themselves and, at last, the ladder of one of the huts–which appeared larger and better finished than the others–was lowered, and four men descended. One of these carried a kriss in his hand. His bow was slung behind his back. The others kept their bows bent in readiness for instant action.

      The chief was a tall and well-built man, of about forty years of age. He, like his followers, was dressed only in a loincloth; he had copper bracelets round his wrists. As he approached, the lads rose and bowed deeply; then Will held out to him the ax and, placing it in his hand, motioned to him that it was a present.

      The chief looked pleased at the gift, placed his hands on Will's shoulder and nodded, and performed the same gesture to Hans. Then he led them towards his hut, and motioned to them to sit down at the foot of the tree.

      Curious faces were watching from every hut and, as soon as it was seen that peace was established, the ladders were lowered and a swarm of men, women, and children soon surrounded the visitors. At the chief's order a woman approached them, bringing a dish of food. This was composed, the boys found, principally of birds; cut up and stewed, with some sort of vegetable. The dish was by no means bad and, after living for nearly a fortnight upon biscuit and fruit, they much enjoyed it.

      Presently, women brought bundles of dried fern and spread them at the foot of the tree and, soon after it was dark, the boys lay down upon them. It was long, however, before they went to sleep; for the din and chatter in the village continued, until far into the night. The lads guessed that the reason and manner of their coming was warmly debated; and judged by their reception that the prevailing opinions were favorable, and that the visit from the two white men was considered to be a fortunate omen.

      The next day they were again amply supplied with food, and were constantly surrounded by a little group of women and children, to whom their white skins appeared a source of constant wonder. Their movements were entirely unchecked, and they were evidently considered in the light of guests rather than prisoners.

      The next night the village retired to rest early. The boys sat talking together, for a long time, and then lay down to sleep. Presently, Will thought that he heard a noise and, looking up, saw in the moonlight a number of savages, stealthily approaching. They carried with them ladders; and intended, he had no doubt, to surprise the sleeping villagers. They were already close at hand.

      Will shook Hans–who had already gone off to sleep–and pointed out to him the advancing foes. These were already in the village and, separating, fixed a ladder against each of the huts. So far the boys, who lay in the shadow of the hut, had not been noticed. The Malays–who belonged to a hostile village–began to climb the ladders; when the lads, grasping the heavy sticks which they always carried, and springing to their feet with loud shouts, ran to the ladders, before the Malays could recover from their astonishment at the approach of the white-faced men, rushing upon them.

      Half a dozen of the ladders were upset, the men who had mounted them coming heavily to the ground. Some of these, as they rose, at once took to their heels; others, drawing