He turned his face again towards them, and there was in it a touch of dignity. He broke into a kind of chant.
"Ye may hear the laughter of the little ones. There are no such at the door of Muata's hut, for a man cannot take unto himself wives and keep his arm strong to cast the spear, his eyes clear to follow the trail, and his heart strong to face the dangers that come out of the forest.
"Ye hear the voice of the young men and maidens singing in the dance. Ye may see the mothers about their work, and the old men at the fire. For them the cloud is past. They sit in the warmth of the sun, and heed not the shadows that gather in the trees. The boy who sits in the tree to frighten the birds from the grain has his turn at the dance. But the chief, he watches always; for Muata there is no rest in the Place of Rest."
"You are the first chief ever I heard take that weight upon his shoulders," said Mr. Hume, with admiration he could not restrain.
"Why don't you resign?" said Compton.
"Haw!"
"Let some one else be chief."
Muata's nostrils quivered in disgust. "Wow! I am a chief, and the son of a chief. Who is there to take my place?"
"But you were a long time away."
"Ohe! and, as ye have seen, men conspired to let Hassan and his man- eaters in upon the valley. So my word to you, my brothers, is, to choose ground for huts;" and the chief stalked away.