"No talkee," cautioned their guide. They drew near the fires, and saw that the whole tribe was gathered around in a semicircle, enjoying a huge feast. In the center of this semicircle, not far from the thorn wall, the old chief reclined on his throne of rugs, the tom-tom beaters near him. Mbopo, who plainly stood in great awe of the wizened potentate, fell on his face in salute. Once more the boys calmly met the evil black eyes that stared at them, and Burt could see small hope in the malevolent glare of the chief.
After a few murmured words from Mbopo the chief gave a sharp order. A dozen feet distant stood a small fire, over which hung some meat on spits. This was removed, and a warrior brought forward a long thin object that sent a thrill through Burt. It was a rudely-fashioned branding iron.
The warrior thrust one end into the fire. Burt moved closer to his chum, with fists clenched. He knew well how useless it would be to put up any fight, but he was determined not to give in to the torture without a struggle. The old chief smiled slightly at the action, and gave a motion. Four of the little warriors, only reaching to the shoulder of the boys, stepped forward with axes ready.
"No use, old man," said Critch quietly. "We'll have to take our medicine, I guess."
The four warriors led the boys to the fire. One of them reached up and deliberately tore Burt's tattered shirt from his shoulder. The pale-faced boy made no move to resist, and next moment the white-hot iron was taken from the fire, and the tom-toms rolled forth their thunder.
But at that instant even the noise of the great drums was drowned in an appalling roar that turned the eyes of all upon the thorn wall. The startled boys saw the latter bend, there came another terrific roar, then the stout thorn zareba was burst apart and into the enclosure rolled the form of an immense lion!
Before a move could be made the cat-like animal regained his feet, gave one quick sniff of the air, and pounced on the old chief, who was struggling to rise. To the surprise of the boys the crowd fell prostrate; a murmur of "Pongo! Pongo!" went up, and a moment later the lion gave one bound and had vanished in the night, unharmed. And with him went the chief of the white dwarfs.
CHAPTER XV
THE IVORY ZAREBA
The whole thing happened in less than a moment. As Burt recovered from his surprise the pigmies were still prostrate in the attitude of worship. Beside him lay the branding iron, unheeded. With a quick motion the boy stooped and caught it up, whirled it around, and sent it flying across the zareba. Then he turned to Mbopo.
"Now make good!" he exclaimed, as a murmur arose from the crowd at his action. "You're the boss, Mbopo!"