“What is it?” asked the Pimple, peering over our shoulders into the ink pool. We paid no attention to him.
“Can you see which way it is pointing?” Mundey asked.
“Yes,” said I. “West! Come on!” Jumping to our feet, Mundey and I started westwards up the hill as fast as we could go. Our bayonet-hobbled friends had the utmost difficulty in keeping up with us. We led them a pretty dance before we pulled up at the spot where the revolver was buried.
Here I asked for instructions from the invisible Spook. I was once more in a trance—a fact to which Mundey judiciously drew the Pimple’s attention.
“Which test do you suggest?” I asked.
The Spook’s reply was audible only to myself. I turned on the Pimple.
“Quick!” I said. “Do what he says, or we’ll be too late!”
“And what does he say?” the Pimple asked.
“He wants the test of the Head-hunting Waas,” I explained excitedly. “Quick, man! Quick!”
“I do not understand.” The unhappy Pimple wrung his hands.