Muata drummed his fingers against the stretched skin of his cheek, making a hollow noise.
"Behold," he said, "there is your guide."
They looked around in the dark, but could see no one.
"Do not look hard, for he is afraid of the white man's eyes."
"If we knew what we were expected to look at," said Compton, "we'd know where we were; but—oh——"
He broke off, and stared at a little figure that barely reached up to Muata's waist.
"A pigmy, by Jenkins!"
"By Jove! yes."
Mr. Hume unhooked a steel chain from his belt, with a knife attached, and offered it to the little man, who, at a word from Muata, grabbed at it, and, after a minute inspection, hung it round his neck. Muata said a few more words to the new guide, then, lifting his hand, gave the farewell salutation to his friends, and disappeared with the silent river-man. The little man, taking one end of the rope, led them away from the camp of the cannibals, and after a brief rest, without the comfort of a fire, they were early on the march; but it was not until the sun was well out that they saw what manner of man their new guide was. A strange monkey-figure —very black, with wrinkled skin about the elbows, thin arms, knobby knees, a bulging stomach, and round bright eyes! He carried a little bow, a sheaf of tiny arrows, and wore the glittering chain and knife round his neck. He took the "upper road," and was very like a monkey in the ease and agility with which he manoeuvred the branches. Presently he was joined by two companions, who appeared apparently from the tree-tops—one was black, the other lighter in colour, and of vast pigmy stature, reaching a height of quite 4 ft. 6 in. It was found advisable to give these two some badge of office, for when they had become accustomed to the white men, they stopped the march for a violent discussion about the glittering jewel worn with such outrageous pride by the first man. The present of a red silk handkerchief to one, and of a tin box that had held meat tabloids to the other, restored peace. The handkerchief was converted into a turban, the box into a decoration for the breast, and then, chatting like a treeful of monkeys, the three guides went on at a quick pace. There was no midday rest, no halt for coffee-making; they had evidently been told by Muata to hurry, and whenever their white men showed a tendency to slacken, they frowned, cracked their fingers, and capered about. Towards night, however, they descended from the upper road.
"Thank goodness, they'll have to stop when it grows dark," sighed
Venning.