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                           JUNGLE AND STREAM
                                  OR
                  THE ADVENTURES OF TWO BOYS IN SIAM


                                  BY
                          GEO. MANVILLE FENN

                              AUTHOR OF
                 "IN HONOUR'S CAUSE," "CORMORANT CRAG"
                      "FIRST IN THE FIELD," ETC.


                           DEAN & SON, LTD.
                   6 LA BELLA SAUVAGE, LUDGATE HILL,
                            LONDON, E.C.4




                   MADE AND PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN




  CONTENTS

       I. SIXTY YEARS AGO
      II. THE JUNGLE HUNTER
     III. SREE'S PRISONER
      IV. FISHING WITH A WORM
       V. THE DOCTOR'S POST-MORTEM
      VI. MAKING PLANS
     VII. THE BRINK OF A VOLCANO
    VIII. A PROWL BY WATER
      IX. NATURALISTS' TREASURES
       X. WHAT HARRY HEARD
      XI. THE NAGA'S BITE
     XII. SUL THE ELEPHANT
    XIII. THEIR FIRST TIGER
     XIV. A YOUNG SAVAGE
      XV. FOR THE JUNGLE, HO!
     XVI. THE HOUSE-BOAT
    XVII. JUNGLE SIGHTS AND SOUNDS
   XVIII. ELEPHANTS AT HOME
     XIX. A NIGHT ALARM
      XX. A DREARY RETURN
     XXI. A HIDING-PLACE
    XXII. DARING PLANS
   XXIII. THE SPEAR HARVEST
    XXIV. THE HELP SEEKER
     XXV. A DESPERATE VENTURE
    XXVI. FOR LIFE
   XXVII. THE POWDER MINE
  XXVIII. SAVING THE STORES
    XXIX. THE DOCTOR KEPT BUSY
     XXX. LIKE A BAD SHILLING
    XXXI. COMING HOME TO ROOST
   XXXII. IN THE NICK OF TIME
  XXXIII. WHAT FOLLOWED




  [Illustration: "Then there was a roar like a peal of thunder."]




CHAPTER I

SIXTY YEARS AGO


"Charlie is my darling, my darling, my darling!" was sung in a good,
clear, boyish tenor, and then the singer stopped, to say
impatiently,--

"What nonsense it is! My head seems stuffed full of Scotch
songs,--'Wee bit sangs,' as the doctor calls them. Seems funny that so
many Scotch people should come out here to the East. I suppose it's
because the Irish all go to the West, that they may get as far apart
as they can, so that there may not be a fight. I say, though, I want
my breakfast."

The speaker, to wit Harry Kenyon, sauntered up to the verandah of the
bungalow and looked in at the window of the cool, shaded room, where a
man-servant in white drill jacket and trousers was giving the
finishing touches to the table.

"Breakfast ready, Mike?"

"Yes, sir; coffee's boiled, curry's made."

"Curry again?"

"Yes, Master Harry; curry again. That heathen of a cook don't believe
a meal's complete without