In the square, sedan chairs moved about, link boys waved their torches and shouted, rough men jostled him. Presently his tears gathered and began to fall. He lowered his head and plodded on down the street, little dreaming that before him waited one of the strangest encounters, not only in his life, but in the strange history of the world.
Too tired and despairing to remember that traveling with bent head is unsafe, struggling to keep back his tears, he ceased suddenly to feel anything. He came full force against one of the new lamp-posts recently set up, and was thrown backwards.
When he came to himself, he heard but one sound, that of cruel laughter. The amusement of the onlookers was the last drop in poor Conrad's cup of grief. As he staggered to his feet, he said to himself that he wished that the lamp-post had brought him to that death which was approaching for him and his fellow countrymen.
When the dizziness following his fall had passed and he was ready to start on once more, he observed that the steps of the passers-by were unusually hurried and that all led in the same direction. He looked back to see the object toward which they were hastening. At the sight which met his eyes he gave a startled cry. He was dreaming or he had gone mad.
This was England and London, this was the heart of the largest city in the world. America, the longed-for, with its great forests and its mighty hunters, lay far across the sea three thousand miles away. But through the London fog, surrounded by a great crowd above whom they towered, there came toward Conrad four giant creatures, with bronze-colored skins, with deer-hide shoes, with headdresses of waving feathers, and with scarlet blankets. Conrad rubbed his eyes; he looked again. They came nearer and nearer, they seemed more and more majestic and terrible.
Then, suddenly, they vanished, as though the earth had swallowed them. They could not have entered a house since there were no dwelling-houses here, and the shops were closed. Risking a rebuff as cruel as that from the lamp-post, Conrad grasped the arm of the man nearest him and poured out a dozen excited questions.
"These are Indians from the wilds of America," answered the stranger.
"Why are they here? What does it mean? Could I speak to them? Where did they go?"
The stranger's patience was soon exhausted. After he had explained that the savages had gone into the theater, he left Conrad to address his questions to the empty air.
For a moment Conrad stared at the spot from which the Indians had vanished. If he only had money to pay his way into the theater also! But he was penniless. The next best thing was to tell his father, as soon as possible, of this incredible experience. Running heavily, he crossed London Bridge and started out upon the Blackheath Road, saying over and over to himself, "The Indians are here! The Indians are here!"