"Tarmangani!" murmured the man.
A low growl rumbled in the cavernous chest of the carnivore.
"I shall have to look into this matter," said the man, "perhaps tonight, perhaps tomorrow." He closed his eyes and fell asleep again, the sleep from which the shots had aroused him.
The lion blinked his yellow-green eyes and yawned; then he lowered his great head, and he too slept.
Near them lay the partially devoured carcass of a zebra, the kill that they had made at dawn. Neither Ungo, the jackal, nor Dango, the hyena, had as yet scented the feast; so quiet prevailed, broken only by the buzzing of insects and the occasional call of a bird.
Before Major White reached the head of the column the firing had ceased, and when he arrived he found the askaris and the white men crouching behind trees gazing into the dark forest before them, their rifles ready. Two black soldiers lay upon the ground, their bodies pierced by arrows. Already their forms were convulsed by the last throes of dissolution. Naomi Madison crouched upon the floor of her car. Rhonda Terry stood with one foot on the running board, a pistol in her hand.
White ran to Orman who stood with rifle in hand peering into the forest. "What happened, Mr. Orman?" he asked.
"An ambush," replied Orman. "The devils just fired a volley of arrows at us and then beat it. We scarcely caught a glimpse of them."
"The Bansutos," said White.
Orman nodded. "I suppose so. They think they can frighten me with a few arrows, but I'll show the dirty niggers."