Vowing that those last words would make him come home far more quickly than he had intended, the doctor prepared the few necessaries he always took upon such occasions, and was about to start, when there was a fresh impediment in the person of Mrs Barlow, who came in, looking the picture of woe, and ready to shake hands effusively, and to kiss Mrs Bolter against her will. "Going out, doctor?" she said. "Yes, ma'am, for some days." "But you will come to my house first? there is an injured man there. He came and begged me to fetch you to him, for he could not come himself." "A Malay?" "Yes; a native. And he begged so hard that I was compelled to come." "Just as I was going out, too," muttered the doctor, pettishly; but he never refused a call to duty, and hurrying out, he left the widow with his wife, while he went down to the well-appointed little house sleeping in the sunshine close to the river. As he drew near he saw, at a little distance, a scuffle going on amongst a party of Malays, one of whom seemed for a moment to be struggling against five or six others; but no outcry was made, and deeming it to be some rough play upon the part of the fishermen, he paid little heed to what followed, merely noting that the men hustled their companion into a boat and paddled away. The next minute he was at Mrs Barlow's house, where a swarthy-looking Malay presented himself and told his symptoms, which were of so simple a character that the doctor was able to prescribe, and then hurry back to send the medicine required. This last was received by the sick man from the doctor's messenger; and no sooner was he gone than it was observable that the invalid rose from the mat upon which he had lain. He laughingly stole off to the river-side, where he entered a sampan, and paddled away after his companions, one of whom had left him to personate the only messenger who had been able to reach the station, though only then to fail in eluding the keenness of those who watched every house, and who kept their eyes upon the doctor, when half an hour later, totally regardless of the heat of the sun, he embarked in a boat and was paddled up the river by a couple of men, the companions of former excursions, old friends, whom he knew he could trust. There were several boats lying lazily upon the water, with sleepy-looking Malays in each, and as the doctor's swift little vessel pushed off, eyes that had looked sleepy before opened widely and watched his departure. "Shall we follow?" said one man, in a low voice. "No; he goes to shoot birds. Let him be." The sun poured down his rays like silver flames through the leaves of the cocoa-palms; and while the doctor's boat grew smaller and smaller till it turned a bend in the stream, the occupants of the sampans lying so idly about the landing-stage exchanged glances from time to time, but seemed asleep whenever the owner of a white face drew near. VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER TWENTY. MURAD'S SLAVE.