In front of the officers’ mess hut in the A. Troop camp, a group of four sat chatting.
“Pity we can’t find out something more definite, Greenoak,” Inspector Chambers was saying. “I believe I’d be justified in arresting Vunisa on my own responsibility.”
Harley Greenoak laughed drily.
“Don’t you do it, Chambers. You’d stoke up the whole country then and there. Even if you didn’t—what price the Government? Too much zeal isn’t encouraged in the Police any more than in other departments, I take it.”
The Inspector and his sub. laughed ironically.
“Not much,” said the latter. “And these devils are war-dancing every night right bang under our noses. It’s genuine too, for I’ve seen it before, as you know.”
“By Jove! I would like to see a real war-dance,” struck in Dick Selmes. “I say, Inspector, couldn’t some of us go over some night and have a look in? Why not to-night?”
“Tired of life yet, Selmes?” answered Chambers, good-naturedly. “Because if a few of us went to have a look in at it none of us would come back—in their present state of mind. If a lot—why, there’d be no war-dance.”
“Bother!” said Dick.