Still the chief hesitated, and the waiting ranks listened, eagerly shuffling forward, till they ceased to bear any semblance to an ordered army, and were as a mob.
"Lord," said the chief, "we will go to-morrow——"
The smile was still on Sanders' lips, but his face was set, and his eyes held a steely glitter that the chief of the Akasava knew.
"You go to-day, my man," said Sanders, lowering his voice till he spoke in little more than a whisper, "else your warriors march under a new chief, and you swing on a tree."
"Lord, we go," said the man huskily, "though we are bad marchers and our feet are very tender."
Sanders, remembering the weariness of the Akasava, found his face twitching.
"With sore feet you may rest," he said significantly; "with sore backs you can neither march nor rest—go!"
At dawn the next morning the N'Gombi people came in twenty-five war canoes to join their Akasava friends, and found the village tenanted by women and old men, and Tigili, the king, in the shock of the discovery, surrendered quietly to the little party of Houssas on the beach.
"What comes to me, lord?" asked Tigili, the king.
Sanders whistled thoughtfully.