"Save mine?" said the doctor. "Well, I hope we shall have no more tigers to face." "No," said the man, "not from tigers, but from men. You did not eat blachang to-night?" "No," said the doctor. "Why?" "Sultan Hamet had _toobah_ put in it to-night: same as to make fish sleep." "What? I don't understand you!" cried the doctor excitedly. "Sultan Hamet means to have all the English krissed to-night while they sleep," said the Malay; "but you have saved my life: shall save yours." CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN. HOW DOCTOR BOLTER GOT IN A MESS. Doctor Bolter felt as if the place was swimming round him, and the fire-light seemed to dance as he heard these words. Then, as he recovered himself somewhat, he gazed full in the Malay's eyes, to see that the man was looking up at him in the calmest and most unruffled way. "Are you mad?" exclaimed the doctor. "No," said the Malay. "I say what is right. Sultan Hamet joins with Rajah Gantang to kill off all the English--the sultan here; the rajah there, with his prahus." "It is impossible!" cried the doctor. "You are deceiving me." "No, no, I tell the truth," said the man; "but you shall not be hurt. Let them kris me first. You shall live." "Let us get back," cried the doctor, seizing his gun; and the tiger with the beautiful skin, which he had meant to have for a specimen, was forgotten. "No, no," said the man, "you must stay in the jungle. The tigers are better than Hamet." "Can you walk?" said the doctor, quietly. The man got up for answer. "Can you find your way back?" said the doctor. "Yes," said the other, with a scornful look. "I could find the way with my eyes blinded." "Then start at once. Here, take some more of this." He gave the injured man another draught from his flask, for the poor fellow seemed terribly faint. The few drops of brandy gave him new life, and he displayed it by throwing himself on his knees before Doctor Bolter, and clasping one of his legs with his uninjured arm. "Don't go back, master," he cried piteously. "You have been so good to me that I could not bear to see you krissed. Stay away, and I will keep you safely. My life is yours, for you saved it; and I am your slave." "My good fellow," said the doctor, sadly, as he laid his hand upon the Malay's shoulder, "you do not understand Englishmen." "Yes, yes, I do," cried the Malay. "I like--I love Englishmen, I was servant to the young chief Ali before the sultan had him krissed." "Young Ali krissed?" cried the doctor. "Yes, he was too much friends with the Englishmen, and made the sultan jealous." "And the wretch had that brave, noble young fellow killed?"