At this moment from the Sabah a shrill whistle echoed through the forest, scattering the assembled guests in all directions. Some took to trees, others threw themselves face down, on the ground.
The sultan was furious. He gruffly ordered his subjects back, and his beady eyes glared at the impostor, but he was too much of a diplomat to display his feelings further. The soldiers had been amused at first, but they realized the danger of trifling with the sultan. Every tree and corner of the jungle would respond with an armed savage, eager to destroy them, should the order be given, and uneasy glances were directed at the irate potentate. All the recent good humor and mirth had vanished; only the sergeant and the lieutenant retained an air of utter indifference. They quietly continued to smoke, gazing off into the far horizon, oblivious of their surroundings. Were they pushing that huge American bluff too far?
After long deliberation, the sultan apparently reached his conclusion. He whispered an order, and several runners disappeared into the jungle. Lewis heard the sergeant catch his breath, but the old man preserved his dignity admirably. More silent waiting and smoking followed. The sultan growled his displeasure as an adviser attempted to give some piece of advice, displaying a far from lovely temper. Piang valiantly stood his ground, ready to fight and die by his friend.
Finally sounds of the returning slaves reached the gathering. What was coming? Armed savages? Or had he ordered his poison reptiles to be let loose among the soldiers? The stillness was oppressive. No one moved, and the sultan continued to study the averted face of the officer.
A sound floated to them, nearer, nearer. The men braced themselves for a fight. But the sound? It was one they had all heard, a familiar, homelike sound.
“Gobble-gobble!” It was answered from all directions. Gradually the truth dawned on Lewis. He had won, and the warm blood rushed through his tired limbs.
“Turkeys, by gosh!” shouted a recruit, and the cry was taken up by the whole command, for slaves were pouring in with fowls of every description. The sergeant vainly tried to establish order in the ranks, but the reaction was too great. All the good humor and excitement of the morning was restored, and the innate childishness of the soldier began to assert itself.
“Here, Jake, hang this fellow up on that tree so he can salute his majesty in true turkey fashion,” shouted one man, and Jake, game as usual, tossed a big gobbler up in one of the mock Christmas-trees. From this point of vantage the bird made the jungle resound with its protests, while the troop screamed with laughter as Jake undertook to interpret the creature’s address.
“Piang, what will we say to the old codger now?” asked Lewis.
“I ask for gift for Sabah; it keep her good,” grinned the boy, and when he delivered that message to his majesty, a smile nearly destroyed the immobility of his features. A slave handed Lewis a package done up in green leaves, and when he curiously loosened the wrappings, a handful of seed-pearls, beautiful in luster and coloring fell in his palm.