Shows the Dreadful Depravity of Man, and the Amazing Effects of Electrical Treatment on Man and Beast.  
Meanwhile Stumps went back to the hotel to brood over his misfortunes, and hatch out the plan which his rather unfertile brain had devised.
 
Seated on a chair, with his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands, and his nails between his teeth, he stared at a corner of the room, nibbled and meditated. There was nothing peculiar about the corner of the room at which he stared, save that there stood in it a portmanteau which Sam had bought the day before, and in which were locked his and Robin’s bags of treasure.
 
“If I could only manage to get away by rail to—to—anywhere, I’d do it,” he muttered.
 
Almost simultaneously he leaped from his chair, reddened, and went to look-out at the window, for some one had tapped at the door.
 
“Come in,” he said with some hesitation.
 
“Gen’l’man wants you, sir,” said a waiter, ushering in the identical captain who had stopped Stumps on the street that day.
 
“Excuse me, young man,” he said, taking a chair without invitation, “I saw you enter this hotel, and followed you.”
 
“Well, and what business had you to follow me?” demanded Stumps, feeling uneasy.
 
“Oh, none—none at all, on’y I find I must sail this afternoon, an’ I’ve took a fancy to you, an’ hope you’ve made up your mind to ship with me.”
 
Stumps hesitated a moment.
 
“Well, yes, I have,” he said, with sudden resolution. “When must I be on board?”
 
“At four, sharp,” said the captain, rising. “I like promptitude. All right. Don’t fail me.”
 
“I won’t,” said Stumps, with emphasis.
 
When the captain was gone, Stumps went nervously to the door and peeped out. Nothing was visible, save the tail of a waiter’s retiring coat. Cautiously shutting and bolting the door, he took up a strong walking-cane, and, after some difficulty, forced the lock of the portmanteau therewith. Abstracting from it the two bags containing the treasures of his mates Robin and Sam, he wrapped them in a handkerchief, and put them into a canvas bag, which he had purchased for the reception of his own wardrobe. Taking this under his arm he went quietly out of the hotel into the street and disappeared.
 
He was closely followed by a waiter who had taken the liberty of peeping through the key-hole when he committed the robbery, and who never lost sight of him till he had seen him embark in a vessel in the harbour, named the Fairy Queen, and heard him give his name as James Gibson. Then he returned to the hotel, giving vent to his sentiments in the following soliloquy—“Of course it is no business of yours, John Ribbon, whether men choose to open their comrades’ portmantys with keys or walkin’-sticks, but it is well for you to note the facts that came under your observation, and to reveal them to them as they concern—for a consideration.”
 
But the waiter did not at that time obtain an opportunity to reveal his facts to those whom they concerned, for Sam, Robin, Slagg, and Letta did not return to the hotel, but sent a pencil note to Stumps instead, to the effect that they had received an invitation from a telegraph official to pay him a visit at his residence up country; that, as he was to carry them off in his boat to the other side of the bay, they would not have an opportunity of calling to bid him, Stumps, a temporary farewell; that he was to make himself as happy as he could in Bombay during their absence, keep on the rooms at the hotel, and settle the bills, and that all expenses would be paid by them on their return.
 
As the youth by whom this message was sent knew nothing about the senders or whither they had gone, and as Stumps did not again make his appearance, the landlord seized the few things that had been left by the supposed runaways.
 
The invitation that had thus suddenly been given and accepted, was received from a gentleman named Redpath, an official in the Indian telegraph service. They had been introduced to him on board of the Great Eastern by Sam’s friend, Frank Hedley, and he became so interested in their adventurous career that he begged them to visit his bungalow in a rather out-of-the-way part of the country, even if only for a few days.
 
“It won’t take us long to get there,” he said, “for the railway passes within thirty miles of it, and I’ll drive you over as pretty a piece of country as you could wish to see. I have a boat alongside, and must be off at once. Do come.”
 
“But there are so many of us,” objected Sam Shipton.
 
“Pooh! I could take a dozen more of you,” returned the hospitable electrician; “and my wife rejoices—absolutely rejoices—when I bring home unexpected company.”
 
“What a pattern she must be,” said Slagg; “but excuse me, sir, since you are so good as to invite us all, may I make so bold as to ax if you’ve got a servants’-’all?”
 
“Well, I’ve not got exactly that,” replied Redpath, with an amused look; “but I’ve got something of the same sort for my servants. Why do you ask?”
 
“Because, sir, I never did sail under false colours, and I ain’t agoin’ to begin now. I don’t set up for a gentleman, and though circumstances has throwed me along wi’ two of ’em, so that we’ve bin hail-feller-well-met for a time, I ain’t agoin’ to condescend to consort wi’ them always. If you’ve got a servants’-’all, I’ll come and thank ’ee; if not, I’ll go an’ keep company wi’ Stumps till Mr Shipton comes back.”
 
“Very well, my good fellow, then you shall come, and we’ll find you a berth in the servants’-hall,” said Redpath, laughing.
 
“But what about Stumps?” said Robin; “he will wonder what has come over us. Could we not return to the hotel first?”
 
“Impossible,” said the electrician; “I have not time to wait. My leave has expired. Besides, you can write him a note.”
 
So the note was written, as we have shown, and the party set out on their inland journey.
 
Before starting, however, Frank Hedley, the engineer, took Sam and Robin aside.
 
“Now, think over what I have mentioned,” he said, “and make up your minds. You see, I have some influence at head-quarters, and am quite sure I can get you both a berth on board to replace the men who have left us. I think I can even manage to find a corner for Slagg, if he is not particular.”
 
“We shall only be too happy to go if you can manage it,” replied Robin; “but Stumps, what about him? We can’t leave Stumps behind, you know.”
 
“Well. I’ll try to get Stumps smuggled aboard as a stoker or something, if possible, but to say truth, I don’t feel quite so sure about that matter,” replied Frank.
 
“But shall we have time for this trip if you should prove successful?” asked Sam.
 
“Plenty of time,” returned his friend; “coaling is a slow as well as a dirty process, and to ship thousands of tons is not a trifle. I daresay we shall be more than a week here before the shore-end is fixed and all ready to start.”
 
“Well then, Frank,” said Sam; “adieu, till we meet as shipmates.”
 
The railway soon conveyed our adventurers a considerable distance into the interior of the country.
 
At the station where Redpath and his guests got out, a vehicle was procured sufficiently large to hold them all, and the road over which they rapidly passed bore out the character which the electrician had given to it. Every species of beautiful scenery presented itself—from the low scrubby plain, with clumps of tropical plants here and there, to undulating uplands and hills.
 
“You must have some difficulties in your telegraph operations here,” said Robin to Redpath, “with which we have not to contend in Europe.”
 
“A few,” replied his friend, “especially in the wilder parts of the East. Would you believe it,” he added, addressing himself to Letta, “that wild animals frequently give us great trouble? Whenever a wild pig, a tiger, or a buffalo, takes it into his head to scratch himself, he uses one of our telegraph-posts if he finds it handy. Elephants sometimes butt them down with their thick heads, by way of pastime, I suppose, for they are not usually fond of posts and wire as food. Then bandicoots and porcupines burrow under them and bring them to the ground, while kites and crows sit on the wires and weigh them down. Monkeys, as usual, are most mischievous, for they lay hold of the wires with tails and paws, swinging from one to another, and thus form living conductors, which tend to mix and confuse the messages.”
 
“But does not the electricity hurt the monkeys?” asked Letta.
 
“O no! It does them no injury; and birds sitting on the wires are never killed by it, as many people suppose. The electricity passes them unharmed, and keeps faithfully to the wire. If a monkey, indeed, had a tail long enough to reach from the wire to the ground, and were to wet itself thoroughly, it might perhaps draw off some of the current, but fortunately the tails of monkeys are limited. We often find rows of birds lying dead below our telegraph lines, but these have been killed by flying against them, the wires being scarcely visible among trees.”
 
“And what about savages, sir?” asked Jim Slagg, who had become deeply interested in the telegraphist’s discourse; “don’t they bother you sometimes?”
 
“Of course they do,” replied Redpath, with a laugh, “and do us damage at times, though we bother them too, occasionally.”
 
“How do you manage that, sir?” asked Jim.
 
“Well, you must know we have been much hindered in our work by the corruptness and stupidity of Eastern officials in many places, and by the destructive propensities and rapacity of Kurds and wandering Arabs and semi-savages, who have found our posts in the desert good for firewood and our wires for arrow-heads or some such implements. Some of our pioneers in wild regions have been killed by robbers when laying the lines, while others have escaped only by fighting for their lives. Superstition, too, has interfered with us sadly, though sometimes it has come ............