It was a swift glance, but sharp enough for the boy to realise that those were the women companions of the little men.
“Shall we fire?” whispered Dean.
“No; don’t.”
“But they mean fighting.”
“Frightened of us,” said Mark quickly. “Look, they are quite friendly towards Mak.”
For the big, shapely Illaka was stalking about here and there, and as he passed each little warrior with drawn bow, the little fellow lowered his weapon and looked up at the spear-armed giant as if he were their king.
“Not hurt,” cried Mak, and he stepped lightly about, pointing with his spear at first one and then another of the little black tribe. “Come, look,” he shouted; and the boys shouldered their pieces, while Mak pointed with his spear to first one and then another, and then stopped to pat them on the back. “Mark, look,” he said; “Dean, look!” And he took hold of one of them by the arm and turned him round as if to show him off as a curious specimen of humanity, while the little fellow submitted with a calm look of sufferance and submission.
Mak seemed never tired of showing off his find, and ended by stretching out his strong arm and catching at and dragging forward one of the tiny women, who shrank trembling as she cowered and gazed up at the to her huge giant who was treating her as a prisoner.
The tiny woman’s companions looked on solemnly and made no sign of resistance, while the Illaka cropped on one knee and drew his little prisoner towards tie two boys, who looked on, full of curiosity, Mak’s captive shrinking and trembling as he reached out for Mark’s hand and made him, willingly enough, pat the little silent creature on the head and back.
“Dean,” he cried, and he extended his hand for him to administer the same friendly touches, after which the tiny woman shrank away into hiding again.