One Maid's Mischief

Every now and then came the ominous cry of some wandering tiger following the narrow jungle paths, and at times there were strange, mysterious sounds, evidently arising from the forest depths, and to which she could give no name, but which sent a shudder through her frame, as she thought that ere long she might be wandering there in the darkness, running the risk of an attack from one or other of the fierce beasts that haunted these shades.

But as these thoughts crossed her mind, she glanced back at where the sleeping figure of Murad lay full in the light of the lamp, and she felt that she would sooner risk the danger to be incurred by wandering through the jungle than remain another hour beneath that roof.

It must, from the time that seemed to have elapsed, have been near morning when, as she stood there with her weary head pressed against the bamboo barn, the cry of a tiger sounded very close at hand, followed a few minutes later by a low, rustling noise, as if the creature were forcing its way through the dense undergrowth towards the house.

This ceased, and then went on again and again, till, forgetting the peril that threatened her in the room, Helen strained her eyes to try and make out the long, lithe, striped form of the advancing tiger, which appeared to be approaching with the greatest caution the window where she stood.

It was so unmistakably making for where she stood that Helen felt a chill of horror run through her, thinking that sooner or later the fierce beast would make a tremendous spring, and perhaps force its paws through between the bars and seize her as its prey.

So horrible was the impression that once more she felt fascinated, and gazed down with starting eyes, her enlaced fingers clutching more tightly, and her whole being as if under the influence of a nightmare.

Then, all at once, the rustling noise ceased, and she stood listening intently for the next approach or for the final spring.

But even if she had known that the next moment the approaching tiger would launch itself through the air and seize her with its claws, she could not have stirred, for it seemed to be her fate.

The silence was awful: so perfectly still seemed everything that the breathing of Murad grew painfully loud, and the throbbing of her own heart more pronounced.

“Is he asleep?” said a low voice just then from out of the darkness where she stood, and Helen’s heart gave a great bound; for in the voice she recognised the tones of the Malay girl, who had that evening been dragged from her side.

For a few moments the reaction was so great that Helen could hardly speak; and when at last she could master her emotion, her dread was still so great that the words would hardly come.

“Speak low!” whispered the girl; and cautiously and beneath her breath, lest their common enemy should awake, each proceeded to make known her position to the other.

By degrees Helen learned from the girl, who spoke in a bitter, half-distant way, that she had been shut up in a room by herself, and threatened with death, but that she had immediately set to work to escape, and had succeeded by climbing up, and tearing a hole through the palm thatch, forcing her way out, and sliding afterwards down the steep slope, and falling pretty heavily amongst the bushes below.

She was not much hurt, however; and after lying still for a long time to make sure that she was not heard, she had slowly forced her way through the dense undergrowth, making a long circuit so as to approach the window of the room where Helen was a prisoner without exciting attention.

“You must speak lower,” she said, “or he will wake;” and then Helen told her of the drugged wine – or, rather, of her suspicions that the wine was drugged.

“And he drank it!” cried the girl, excitedly. “Ah, then, that is right,” and her whole manner changed. “He will not wake up till long after sunrise. I know what that poison will do. I drank of it when I was first brought here, and I slept for one whole day. We need not be afraid of him then, but we must mind not to waken the other people near.”

She ceased speaking, and Helen heard a loud rustling and panting noise, and a few minutes later a dark face rose to a level with hers, and she clasped the Malay girl towards her and began to sob.

The girl kissed her through the bars, there being just space enough for their faces to approach, and then, with an eager look at the sleeping figure, she whispered that it was time to act.

“But what shall we do – what can we do?” whispered Helen.

“You said you wanted to leave him, and that you would take me back with you to your own people. Will you do so now?”

“Oh, yes, yes,” whispered Helen, excitedly; “make haste and let us go!”

“But are you sure that you wish to leave him?” said the girl, dubiously.

“Oh, yes – yes – yes!” cried Helen, so eagerly that the girl uttered a warning “hush,” and then apparently satisfied, bade her be still while she tried to make a way to her.

For answer Helen stood listening, while the girl seemed to climb upwards and sidewise, standing with her feet resting upon the bars of the open window; and for some time there was a low tearing and rustling noise, as if an effort was being made to cut through the bamboo and cane-woven wall.

This went on for some time and then ceased, to Helen’s great relief, for Murad had several times moved uneasily, and it seemed to her that the noise had awakened him.

There was a slight rustling then, and the Malay girl came back to her former position.

“I cannot do it,” she whispered. “It would take strong men with parangs, and I am only a weak girl with a kris.”

“Can we not escape, then?” panted Helen, whose heart sank.

“Yes; but not that way. It must be through the roof, for the attap is only soft and the strings thin. I think I can manage to cut through there.”

As her words left her lips they both clung there as if paralysed, for, uttering a hoarse gasp, Murad struggled to his feet and staggered towards them with an angry cry.

Volume Three – Chapter Eight.

A Faithful Ally

The alarm was not of long duration, for it soon became evident that Murad was still under the influence of the powerful narcotic. He did not see either of the other occupants of the room, but staggered here and there for a few moments, and then sank heavily once more upon the mats, placing his head in an easy position, and falling into a heavy sleep, his breathing sounding deep and regular to the trembling girls.

“We need not mind,” said the Malay girl at last. “He cannot hear me. I will climb up.”

The bars of the window formed a ladder for her ascent, and she clambered slowly up till her feet were resting upon the topmost bar. Then there was a rustling and cutting noise, and every now and then a dull pat, as of something falling into the bushes below.

It was a terrible position for Helen, who, unable to assist, could only listen and keep her eyes fixed on Murad, whom she momentarily expected to see arise wrathfully and call for help to seize the brave girl working so hard without to obtain freedom for both.

Then, as the Rajah still remained breathing heavily, another form of dread attacked her; she felt sure that some of the guards or people must hear this loud rustling noise, so that it was with an intense feeling of relief that Helen heard the sounds cease. Then there was a louder rustling as of someone drawing herself up, and directly after the Malay girl climbed down into the room, Helen clasping her tightly in her arms.

The girl freed herself hastily and went across to where Murad lay sleeping, bent down over him, gazing steadily in his face, and then turned with a bitter laugh.

“I have said good-bye to him, so now let us go. If I look at him again I shall never be able to leave. Let us escape.”

“But how?” exclaimed Helen, helplessly.

“How?” said the girl. “Why, as I came in. I have opened the way,” and she pointed to the ragged hole in the palm thatch.

“I could not climb up there,” exclaimed Helen, with a look of helplessness and despair in her countenance; “it is impossible!”

“You white people!” cried the girl – “you are poor, and weak, and helpless! But come, you must go. Murad will soon waken, and what will you do then?”

The mention of that name and the prospect of the awaking seemed to nerve Helen to the effort she was called upon to make; and in answer to a fresh demand made upon her by her companion, she declared her readiness.

“I will go first,” said the girl, and with the nimbleness of a cat she seized the bars of the window, went up them like a ladder, and with an agility that made Helen, as she watched her in the dim light shed up there by the lamp, look upon her movements as almost miraculous.

Drawing herself quickly up, she passed through the hole in the attap roof, crawling right out; and directly after, having turned, Helen saw her leaning through.

“Now, come – quick!” whispered the girl. “Step up the window-bars as I did, and then give me your hands. You shall not fall; I will hold you.”

Helen made a couple of weak, ineffective trials to climb up and reach her friend, but sank back, and was ready to burst into feeble tears and give up in despair; but Murad uttered some angry words and threw out one arm, which fell heavily back upon the floor.

The noise electrified Helen, who darted to the window-bars, and how she managed she hardly knew, but she climbed up, caught spasmodically at the Malay girl’s hand, at the bamboo rafters, and partly by her own effort, partly by the girl’s exertion, was dragged up through the palm-leaf roof, and sat with her companion holding on tightly to the steep slope.

Here she rested, panting and trembling, so that the girl did not make any further effort for a few minutes, and even then it was Helen who proposed that they should move, placing her lips close to the other’s ear, and asking wildly what they should do next.