The little men gave a long rolling call by moving the hand before the mouth; then two of them slipped away, and presently an answering call came out of the wood. A little later the travellers stood on the edge of a small clearing, surrounded by little round huts made of leaves, and in the centre stood the gigantic warrior with the tin box, and his proud companion with the flame-coloured head. They were grinning from ear to ear as they beckoned their "white men" to advance within the circle of that forest city! Stepping over one of the leafy buildings, and just avoiding knocking down the pillars of an edifice that was probably the town hall, they entered the opening, piled their outfit, and started a fire to prepare the evening meal. The town had appeared deserted, except for the three little guides; but as the giants sipped from their pannikins little forms flitted nearer, and quaint little faces peered at them from every point.
"Take no notice of them," whispered Mr. Hume, as he handed a pannikin to the first guide.
As that sooty imp sipped, with a loud indrawing of his breath in dread of scalding, and a loud outward blowing in token of satisfaction at the comforting taste, the other two guides took the proffered pannikins from the boys, and the entire population crept closer and closer, with many a timid jump. When, however, these strange visitors from the strange outer world, where there was no roof of trees to keep off the shooting stars and other dangers—when these queer people began to massage each other in turn, to rub and to thump, to slap and knead the limbs and muscles, then, in their intense curiosity, even the children forgot their timidity and crowded round. A pickaninny—the queerest little mite—even ventured to poke a tiny finger into the ribs of one of the three. After that there was a great pow-wow. Mr. Hume, with a man in the palm of each hand, a boy on each shoulder, and a couple hanging from each brawny arm, sent the spectators into shrieks of amusement, and they there and then christened him "The Gorilla," in token of esteem—a piece of flattery which was to have a startling sequel. As night fell the little people lamented the disappearance of the sun with a long, melancholy, dirge-like wail; but when darkness was upon them they built up the fire and prepared their evening meal from the body of a red pig they had killed. When the three travellers wrapped themselves up in their blankets, their hosts were still busily engaged in eating and talking, and long into the night, whenever they glanced up through half-closed lids, there were the little forms still about the fires. But in the morning, behold, they were alone with the three guides! The huts remained, and the town house, with its posts, at least six feet high; but the little doors were open, and the huts were empty.
"They've gone," said Venning, much disappointed. "And they have stolen nothing," said Mr. Hume, after a careful inspection of the kit.
The guides pointed to the trees, and once more they were traveling the upper road through the moist leaves, glistening under the sun from the myriad drops of condensed mist. It was more than they could do to keep pace with the agile leaders, and time and again the little men had to wait for the big-limbed, awkward-footed strangers to come up. As on the previous day, they stuck to the work, grudging even a few minutes' rest in the heat of the burning noon, and they only relaxed their efforts to introduce a peculiar sporting event, which nearly put an end to the party. The quick eye of the light-coloured guide saw some object in the tree-tops, and miming out lightly to the end of the branch, he gave a peculiar bark. In response there came the familiar barking roar of a gorilla, followed by the appearance of the black face at a little distance. Immediately the three little men grossly insulted the great monarch of the woods, whose undisputed sway no denizen of the forest cared to dispute, who had been known to break the back of a leopard, and to outstare some chance lion prowling on the outskirts. They made "monkey faces" at him, and no monkey can stand that. They raised their eyebrows, grinned, shot out their jaws, made little grunting noises; and when the great ape imitated them unconsciously in his rage, they broke into unseemly laughter. The gorilla took up the gage of battle and advanced, snapping the branches as a sign of what he would do when he laid a hand or a foot on his enemies. The little men doubled back and put themselves under the sheltering bulk of the hunter's powerful frame, while the two boys sat astride of a big branch, the better to handle their carbines. The gorilla, however, did not push his attack home. They heard his surly grunt as he stopped to take stock of them, and as he did not venture closer, they had to resume the march, not, however, without a very distinct feeling of uneasiness. For when they had got into the swing once more, the gorilla dogged them. Like a hungry shark about an open boat at sea he came and went, now following steadily behind, now ranging up on the starboard quarter, now forging ahead, again coming up mysteriously from the depths below, and now breaking cover on the port side, but never giving a chance for a shot, and always reappearing at a new point after a long interval of silence.
"I don't like the game of hide-and-seek," said Mr. Hume, stopping.
"It's the fault of those little beggars," said Compton. "They appear to enjoy the joke."
The guides pointed to the ground and started to descend, pausing, however, to see if they were followed.
"I suppose we may as well go down?"
The little men laughed when they saw the others descending, and, sliding to the ground down slender vine-ropes, they immediately set to work insulting the gorilla again by a series of rapidly emitted cries. This brought the brute up with a charge, just as the three white men had their attention occupied, and their hands engaged, by the descent. From the branches above there dropped a huge black hairy object, with apparently four pairs of hands.