An unlooked-for intruder disturbed the quietude of the scene.  Their old acquaintance, the singing beetle, chortled his loud way across the park.  Iris was dying—­as women say—­to remind Jenks of their first meeting with that blatant insect, but further talk was impossible; there was too much at stake—­water they must have.

Then the light hiss of a snake rose to them from the depths.  That is a sound never forgotten when once heard.  It is like unto no other.  Indeed, the term “hiss” is a misnomer for the quick sibilant expulsion of the breath by an alarmed or angered serpent.

Iris paid no heed to it, but Jenks, who knew there was not a reptile of the snake variety on the island, leaned over the ledge and emitted a tolerably good imitation.  The native was beneath.  Probably the flight of the beetle had helped his noiseless approach.

“Sahib!”

The girl started at the unexpected call from the depths.

“Yes,” said Jenks quietly.

“A rope, sahib.”

The sailor lowered a rope.  Something was tied to it beneath.  The Mahommedan apparently had little fear of being detected.

“Pull, sahib.”

“Usually it is the sahib who says ‘pull,’ but circumstances alter cases,” communed Jenks.  He hauled steadily at a heavy weight—­a goatskin filled with cold water.  He emptied the hot and sour wine out of the tin cup, and was about to hand the thrice-welcome draught to Iris when a suspicious thought caused him to withhold it.

“Let me taste first,” he said.

The Indian might have betrayed them to the Dyaks.  More unlikely things had happened.  What if the water were poisoned or drugged?

He placed the tin to his lips.  The liquid was musty, having been in the skin nearly two days.  Otherwise it seemed to be all right.  With a sigh of profound relief he gave Iris the cup, and smiled at the most unladylike haste with which she emptied it.

“Drink yourself, and give me some more,” she said.

“No more for you at present, madam.  In a few minutes, yes.”

“Oh, why not now?”

“Do not fret, dear one.  You can have all you want in a little while.  But to drink much now would make you very ill.”

Iris waited until he could speak again.

“Why did you——­” she began.

But he bent over the parapet—­

“Koi hai!"[Footnote:  Equivalent to “Hello, there!”]

“Sahib!”

“You have not been followed?”

“I think not, sahib.  Do not talk too loud; they are foxes in cunning.  You have a ladder, they say, sahib.  Will not your honor descend?  I have much to relate.”

Iris made no protest when Jenks explained the man’s request.  She only stipulated that he should not leave the ladder, whilst she would remain within easy earshot.  The sailor, of course, carried his revolver.  He also picked up a crowbar, a most useful and silent weapon.  Then he went quietly downwards.  Nearing the ground, he saw the native, who salaamed deeply and was unarmed.  The poor fellow seemed to be very anxious to help them.