He came to the village slowly, and found it agitated. More especially so was the chief, that wise capita, for news had arrived that Sandi was coming in the night, and that even now his steamer was rounding the bend of the river.
A plan had miscarried; Sanders was two days ahead of time, and Ifiba and M'bwka, his trusty men, were away on an expedition, and there was no time to substitute unseasoned assassins.
The steamer drifted broadside to the shore, one stern wheel revolving lazily, and then they saw, Imgani amongst the rest, that the decks were crowded with soldiers, impassive brown men in blue uniforms and fezes.
A plank bumped down, and holding their rifles high the soldiers came pattering to the shore, and with them a white officer but not Sandi.
It was a brusque, white man.
"Who is the chief here?" he said crossly.
"Lord, I am that man," said the stout chief, all a-flutter.
"Take that man."
A sergeant of Houssas grasped the chief and deftly swung him round; a corporal of Houssas snapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists.
"Lord," he whined, "why this shame?"