"It is. Explain or go to Boma."
"Vera good. Gi' me the gun, lad." To Burt's vast surprise his uncle nodded and replaced his weapon. As Captain Mac quietly buckled the restored revolver about his waist his face broke into a wrinkled smile.
"It'll be a longish yarn, Wallace." There was no trace of animosity in his tone. "Let's finish eatin' an' when I get the old pipe between my teeth I'll feel like talkin'."
Their meal was finished in silence. Before Captain Mac gave his explanation, however, a startling event happened. It seemed that a dozen men of the village had remained with the bodies of the elephants to remove more of the meat. Just as Captain Mac was filling his ancient and evil-smelling pipe a native rushed into camp shouting something that sent the pipe to the ground and the captain to his feet.
The native came up and fell on his face. After a hasty exchange of question and answer Captain Mac turned to the others and Burt saw that a strange light stood in his dark and rather sad eyes.
"Get out the medicines, Wallace. We've got seven dying men on our hands. We may save one or two with serum and morphia."
"Why, what do you mean?" cried Mr. Wallace, giving a shout for John. When the trusty cook had been dispatched for the medicine chop-box Captain Mac explained further.
"Those chaps we left wi' the beasts yonder drove off some Wambuti pigmies, bein' utter fools and prob'ly ignorant o' what the dwarfs were. They got a shower o' poisoned arrows in return. A bunch from the village just found 'em an' are bringin' 'em in here."
John arrived with the medicine case and Mr. Wallace got out his serums and syringes while the boys stared at each other in amazement.
"That's what them dirty little black arrow-points do," said Critch in a low tone. Just then a band of men came running into the camp. On their shoulders they bore rude litters which they set down before Mr. Wallace with gestures of despair.