The sun had set, and it was now quite dark save for the camp fire which the cook had made. A mile away, on the high ground by the river, little points of light appeared. The Barushu were lighting their fires and preparing for the night. Judging by the distance on either hand to which these fires extended, the natives had assembled in some force.
Presently the sound of a drum, then of another, then of many, reached the white man's ear.
"What is that sound?"
"I do not know, Morena."
"Are they not drums?"
"They are drums."
"War drums?"
"I do not know."
"What is their message?"
"I do not know."