Then came the sharp sound of a striking match; and though Chumbley tried hard, he found that his eyes were too well bandaged for him to catch even a gleam of the light, so he contented himself with drawing at his cigar, after which there was the loud hiss of the match thrown into the water, and the boats were once more urged onward at a goodly speed. A little conversation was kept up; but over their cigars the two prisoners seemed to grow thoughtful, and at last there was a pause, which Chumbley broke at last with the question: "I say, old chap, don't you think this means ransom?" There was no reply, and the deep-voiced Malay said, in his own tongue: "The other boat is far behind." It must have been towards morning that a few words were uttered in Chumbley's boat; there seemed to him, as he immediately became on the _qui vive_, to be a quickening of the rower's strokes, the rustling of bushes, some twigs of one of which brushed his arm, and then they ascended, as far as he could judge, a narrow stream for a short distance, for the oars kept striking bushes or reeds on either side; and now the boat that held Hilton had evidently come up close behind. "They mean to hide us away well, at all events," thought Chumbley. "Now I wonder whether we have come up the stream or down." He had hardly given life to that query, when a gentle check, as if the bows of the boat had run into mud, told that the shore was reached. A few rapid orders succeeded, and it seemed to Chumbley that now they were about to land he would have his cramped legs unbound; but no. The next minute he was seized by four men, lifted out, and laid upon the soft, mossy ground. "You there, Hilton?" he said, as he lay upon his side as helpless as a newly-landed fish. "Yes, I am here," was the reply. "The English rajahs can talk as they like," said the deep-voiced Malay. "No one can hear them now." "Humph! Thanks for the great concession," growled Chumbley; and he was about to take advantage of the permission, when he felt himself again lifted, and laid this time in a kind of hammock that seemed to be slung upon poles, and then for a couple of hours at least, he and Hilton, who was in a similar conveyance behind, were borne along some narrow pathway of the jungle, the leaves, and strands, and thin verdant canes brushing against them constantly, and sweeping their faces at times when they were halted for the bearers to be changed. "Well," said Chumbley, chuckling softly, "I hope they are enjoying themselves with their job over me. They'll declare that they have had the honour of carrying a very great man." A final halt at last, when fresh voices were heard. The hammocks were set down upon what seemed to be a framework; then they were lifted, tilted very much at one end, as if a flight of steps were being ascended, and at last the prisoners felt themselves to be landed upon what felt like a bamboo floor.