White walked over to his tent, and O'Grady sent a black boy to summon the headman; then he turned to Orman. "Go to bed, Tom," he ordered, "and lay off that hootch."
Without a word, Orman got up and went into his tent.
"You put the kibosh on him all right, Pat," remarked Noice, with a grin. "How do you get away with it?"
O'Grady did not reply. His eyes were wandering over the camp, and there was a troubled expression on his usually smiling face. He noted the air of constraint, the tenseness; as though all were waiting for something to happen, they knew not what.
He saw his messenger overhaul Kwamudi and the headman turn back toward White's tent. He saw the blacks silently making their little cooking fires. They did not sing or laugh, and when they spoke they spoke in whispers.
The Arabs were squatting in the muk'aad of the sheykh's beyt. They were a dour lot at best; and their appearance was little different tonight than ordinarily, yet he sensed a difference.
Even the whites spoke in lower tones than usual and there was less chaffing. And from all the groups constant glances were cast toward the surrounding forest.
Presently he saw Kwamudi leave White and return to his fellows; then O'Grady walked over to where the Englishman was sitting in a camp chair, puffing on a squat briar. "What luck?" he asked.
"The bonus got him," replied White. "They will go on, but on one other condition."
"What is that?"