"I don't b'lieve he's got you yet," said Burt disgustedly. "Well, we got to make good somehow, Critch. If Mbopo gets the notion that we've been running a bluff it's good night for us."
"Are you game to tackle the hut?" asked Critch shortly. "We're taking a chance on findin' Pongo at home, but it's all I can see to do. Anyhow, Burt, he ain't very hungry just now."
"I s'pose not," and Burt shuddered a trifle. "Come on then," and he rose to his feet. "Say! Why couldn't Mbopo bring us some weapons? If we had one o' them axes—"
"That's the talk!" burst out Critch. "If we had a couple o' men with axes, Burt, we could make a trap for the old lion! How's that?"
"Fine!" replied Burt hopefully. "Have to make it out o' pretty big logs, though. If the lion isn't inside, we can make a fire an' scare him off for a while anyhow."
"Lot o' good that'd do," grunted his chum. "He wouldn't know there was any fire there unless he walked into it!"
Burt turned to Mbopo. By dint of constant repetition and much patience he finally made the dwarf understand that he wanted another man or two and some weapons. Mbopo hesitated, then handed over a small axe that was slung at his waist.
"Me got bruder," he replied at length. "Bring him, bring plenty spear, hey?"
"That's it," exclaimed Burt. "Bring 'em over there, see?" and he pointed toward the sacred hut.
"Mebbe so, pretty quick," asserted the dwarf, rather doubtfully. "Kill Pongo?"