Their minds filled with strange thoughts, the two strolled back toward the native village. The hut where Walla, the head man lived, was easily distinguished by its size. Around it were other places where the poorer natives stayed.
As Tom and Captain Mosher tried to pass through an alley that led past Walla’s hut, a big black man stopped them with a gesture.
“No can go,” he said, grinning.
“Why not?” asked Tom.
“No can go. Walla he say so. No can go. After a bit maybe can go.”
“We’re going now!” cried Captain Mosher with sudden energy. “Tom, my boy, there’s something on foot here. Draw your revolver and follow me. We’ll see what’s up.”
“No can go!” insisted the native guard.
“We’re going!” cried the captain. “Come on, Tom!”
Tom sprang to the commander’s side. In the gathering dusk they could observe signs of activity about a hut that adjoined Walla’s. A number of native men and women were moving about it.