"Let us think," said de Morin.
He thought for a moment, and then exclaimed—
"Eureka!"
"Who is it?"
"Miss Poles."
CHAPTER XIII.
The idea of disguising Miss Poles as a savage was more amusing than practical. I remarked to de Morin that she would be in the same boat with ourselves; she lacked neither the courage nor the intelligence for such an adventure, but she would dread ridicule as much as we did. And besides this, I felt bound to point out that the scanty amount of costume allowed for the part would be another obstacle in the way.
"You see, my dear fellow," I continued, "that we must lose no time in finding a substitute for Miss Poles. Munza, as regards energy and promptitude of decision, has nothing of the negro about him. I can see him down below there in the midst of his officers. He has very likely made his choice of ambassadors by this time, and by to-morrow, if not to-night, they may be on the road. We must think again."
"What do you say to Nassar? He is trusty and devoted to us."
"He is a Dinka," I replied. "There would be considerable difficulty in passing him off as a Malegga or a Monbuttoo. These people cannot help betraying their nationality, because, to say nothing of other details, their gums, deprived, according to the custom of their country, of several teeth, would at once call attention to them. In addition to this, Nassar is proud of his so-called uniform, especially his boots. You would have some diflficulty in persuading him to leave those off, seeing that he would be afraid of losing his prestige. Nassar is no more destitute of amour-propre than we are."