Moving a step forward, Critch faced the sacred hut and began to speak. His voice came faintly at first, but as he gained confidence it rang louder. The words came plainly to Burt. Critch first delivered all the French he could think of, then broke into Antony's oration, which he had learned at school the year before. Perhaps fearing that Mbopo might comprehend too much of this, Critch switched off abruptly and delivered a complete conjugation of the Latin verb "habeo," speaking slowly and distinctly in as deep a voice as he could assume.
Burt was doubled up in silent laughter, and he saw his chum pause at times as though struggling to repress his feelings also. But his face was away from the pigmies, and his voice remained firm enough. Burt could well imagine the effect produced by all this mummery upon the ignorant and highly superstitious pigmies, ridiculous as it might appear to him.
Finally Critch ran out of words, it seemed, for he stopped suddenly. The firelight gleamed on hundreds of eyes behind his figure, and Burt wondered vaguely what would happen if the waiting tribe should by any chance see through their trickery. The thought made him collect all his forces, and at this moment Critch stooped again. Picking up the mummy, he touched it to the golden ankh.
At the action a ripple of sound rose from the pigmies, followed by what was almost a wail of fear as Critch straightened up, the mummy in his arms, and began walking slowly toward the sacred hut. Burt knew it was time to get inside, so he slipped in through the hole made by the lion, the doorway being in view of the crowd. A moment later the form of Critch darkened the entrance.
"Fine work!" whispered Burt. He was answered by a sigh of relief.
"Take Ta, will you? I'm all in." Critch sank weakly down, and with some repugnance Burt caught the mummy. Placing it in the hole, he filled in the earth, tramped it down, and sprinkled leaves and bones over the place. "Say," went on his chum, "that may have sounded funny to you, but it was something fierce!"
"Never mind," murmured Burt. "You did it mighty fine, old man."
"It was awful to think what'd happen if I made a slip," confessed Critch. "Honest, Burt, I was so weak-kneed I could hardly walk over here! How you coming?"
"He's buried," responded Burt as he finished his task. "Do we go out now?"
"No use keeping them waitin'," said Critch. "I'm goin' to leave the ankh and the mummy-case in here for good. Are you ready? Give me a hand."