He pointed to a flat-nosed, high-cheek-boned man with him, who was dressed in the inevitable plaid sarong of bright colours, and wore a natty little plaited-grass cap upon his head. Bob turned, and saw that this man carried a kris stuck in the folds of his sarong, which had slipped from the hilt, and he was now busy with a little brass box and a leaf. This leaf of one of the pepper plants he was smearing with a little creamy-looking mixed lime from the brass box, on which he placed a fragment of betel-nut, rolled it in the leaf, thrust it into his mouth, which it seemed to distort, and then began to expectorate a nasty red juice, with which he stained the pure water. "Hope you feel better now," said Bob, who, in his interest in the Malay's proceedings, had forgotten all about the squabble with Tom Long. "Ugh! the dirty brute! Chewing tobacco's bad enough; but as for that-- I'd just like to get the armourer's tongs and fetch that out of your mouth, and then swab it clean." "No speak English; Malaya man," said the Kling laughing. "Chew betel, very good, sahib. Like try?" "Try! No," said Bob, with a gesture of disgust. "Here, I say; we'll buy some fruit directly: let's have a look at your kris." The Kling, who seemed to have quite adopted the customs of the people amongst whom he was, hesitated for a moment, looking suspiciously at the two lads, and then took the weapon he wore from his waist, and held it out. Bob took it, and Tom Long closed up, being as much interested as the midshipman. "I say, Tom Long," the latter said, with a laugh, "which of us two will get the first taste of that brown insect's sting?" "You, Bob," said Tom Long, coolly. "It would let out a little of your confounded impudence." "Thanky," said Bob, as he proceeded to examine the weapon with the greatest interest, from its wooden sheath, with a clumsy widened portion by the hilt, to the hilt itself, which, to European eyes, strongly resembled the awkwardly formed hook of an umbrella or walking-stick, and seemed a clumsy handle by which to wield the kris. "Pull it out," said Tom Long, eagerly; and Bob drew it, to show a dull ragged-looking two-edged blade, and of a wavy form. It was about fifteen inches long, and beginning about three inches wide, rapidly narrowed down to less than one inch, and finished in a sharp point. "It's a miserable-looking little tool," said Bob. "Good as a middy's dirk," said Tom Long, laughing. "I don't know so much about that," said Bob, making a stab at nothing with the kris. "I say, old chap, this is poisoned, isn't it?" "No, sahib," said the Kling, displaying his white teeth. "But the Malay krises are poisoned," said Bob. "Is his?" He nodded in the direction of the Malay, who was trying to understand what was said. "No, sahib, no poison. What for poison kris?" "Make it kill people, of course," said Bob, returning the rusty looking weapon to its scabbard.