"A seizure by banditti," muttered Chumbley, "quite in the romantic style, and I shall be held to ransom, when, seeing that I have nothing but my pay--and that is hardly enough for my expenses--I may say, in the words of the monkey who held out his tail to the chained-up dog, `Don't you wish you may get it!' Oh, I say, though, I'm as sore as if I'd been thrashed. Whatever game is this?" "If you will promise to be silent," said a deep voice at his ear in the Malayan tongue, "we will not thrust a cloth into your mouth." "I wish they'd pour a glass of Bass into it instead," thought Chumbley. "I say, you sir," he replied, in as good Malayan as he could command, "what does this mean?" "Wait and see." "Are you going to kris me?" "No." "Well, that's a comfort," muttered Chumbley. "I might have known it by their taking so much trouble, though five minutes ago it would have been a charity to put me out of my misery." "Will you be silent if I leave your mouth free?" was asked again. "I don't see that it's of much use to halloo," said Chumbley, sullenly, "but look here, old chap, what does this mean? Tell me, and I'll be as quiet as a lamb." "Wait and see," was the reply. Chumbley was silent for a few minutes, drawing in long breaths of air. Then, addressing his captors, who seemed to him to be steadily rowing on: "I say," he exclaimed, "can I have this rag off my eyes?" "No." Another pause, during which the prisoner listened to the pleasant ripple of the water against the boat. "I say," from Chumbley. "Yes." "I can't fight now or else I would." There was a low laugh, which seemed to come from a dozen throats, and the same deep voice replied: "My lord is a giant in strength, but we have him fast." "Then set me up, so that I can sit comfortably, or I shan't be worth a Chinese dragon dollar if you want me for sale." There was another low laugh, as if the Malay captors were amused; and then, in obedience to a whispered order, the prisoner was lifted and placed in a more comfortable position, but not without some effort and grunting on the part of the men who essayed to move him, the boat rocking about ominously the while. "That's better," said the prisoner. "Hah, I can get on now! Here I say, old chap, whoever you are, put your hand in my breast." "Does my lord wish me to promise that we will not slay him?" said the deep-voiced Malay. "Bosh! No!" cried Chumbley. "In my breast-pocket. That's right. Now take out the cigar-case. Not the pocket-book. The cigar-case. That's it! Now open it and take out a cigar. Put it in my mouth. Have one?" "My lord's servant does not smoke when he has work to do," replied the Malay. "All right, then, I have none," said Chumbley, coolly. "Put the end in my mouth, and give me a light. There's a match-box in my vest."