Part 28 (1/2)
”They have seen us,” he cried. ”Remember, Tennys, what I told you. It's probably a case of fight on my part. Let 'em come, spears and all!” He stood erect, his eyes flas.h.i.+ng with excitement and eagerness. Taking a few steps to one side, he stood in full view of the searchers, glaring down upon them defiantly, his club in his rigid right hand. He expected a shower of spears. To his utter amazement, however, the fierce-looking warriors, open mouthed and apparently terror-stricken, slunk backward, huddling together, all the time staring at him with bulging eyes. His first thought was that they were surprised to find him so bold, but the next act on their part caused him to gasp with wonder.
With one accord the entire band cast weapons aside and fell face downward, beating their heads against the rock, just as he had seen Arabians and Nubians perform in saluting some mighty potentate. The brown backs remained in that position for a full minute before he could call his trembling companion to his side.
”What does it mean?” whispered she at last. ”Are they dead?”
”They are really there, then? By George, I thought I was dreaming.
Tennys, they are actually doing us homage.”
”Then they are harmless,” she cried joyously.
”I believe I could go down and cut off their ears without hearing a protest.”
”But you won't, will you?”
”It would be barbarous, totally uncalled for, I'm sure. I can't understand their warlike appearance, though. Those fellows look as if they were out for blood.”
”Perhaps they are at war with some other tribe and not with the white people. My hus--Lord Huntingford says they fight among themselves incessantly.”
”That's it. It is a band of foragers, no doubt. But what are we going to do about it?” Hugh was nonplussed. The brown backs and bobbing heads still stretched before them in almost comical humbleness.
”It may be a trick.”
”It stands us in hand to remain where we are until we know what they intend to do next.”
”I hope they'll get up and go away.”
”I guess I'll yell down and ask them what they want.”
”I wouldn't, Hugh,” she entreated. ”If we leave them alone, they may go away presently.” He looked at her and laughed, for he was growing less uneasy with each pa.s.sing moment.
”Hey, there!” he yelled. ”How are you?”
Slowly the head-bobbing ceased and dark faces were lifted toward the elevation. For the first time the newcomers saw the beautiful face of Lady Tennyson. They struggled to their feet, the tall chief stepping forward with outstretched arms. Then in some wild gibberish he began to speak, half to the white witnesses, half to the sky and sun.
”What the d.i.c.kens is he talking about?” murmured the mystified American.
”Perhaps he's asking us to surrender.”
”He is either appealing to the sun or praying to the sky,” said his companion.
”I have it!” cried Hugh. ”He thinks we are angels.” Despite the gravity of the moment she giggled delightedly.
”Then we may as well sit down and await developments,” she said a moment later, as they observed the whole band go face downward on the sand again--all save the chief. The white people seated themselves on the ledge and watched the impa.s.sioned jabberer. Presently the prostrate figures arose and in mute submission spread forth their arms and bent their heads, standing like bronze statues in the glaring sunlight, all to the increased astonishment of those who had expected to become victims of their torture.
”This beats all I ever knew,” exclaimed Ridgeway. ”It begins to look as though they are either friendly or afraid of us. What shall we do?”
”I will follow you, Hugh, if you think it best to go down to them. I do not believe they will harm us.”
”We will go down to them, but we must not let them think we are in the least afraid of them.”