“Yes,” said the doctor, “and they would have done more wisely if they had sat down at once and waited till Mak came to them. This he would have done, of course. But it is wonderful what an instinct these people born in the wilds display under such circumstances. But this is a splendid slice of luck. One has heard and read of the pigmy inhabitants of Africa—Pliny, wasn’t it, who wrote about them?—and there were the bushmen of farther south. I once saw one of them, a little tawny yellow-skinned fellow, a slightly made little chap about as big as a boy eleven years old, a regular pony amongst men, and as strong and active as a monkey. But you say these miniature men you saw were black?”
“Oh, yes. They seemed in the darkness there darker than soot.”
“Well, Sir James, we must have a look at them,” continued the doctor.
“I wonder whether they are the same race as our explorers have described.”
“Oh, they may or may not be, sir. There’s plenty of room in Africa for such tribes. What do you think about them?”
“I am most interested,” said Sir James, “and as the boys say that as soon as the little fellows found that Mark’s intentions were friendly they were quiet enough—”
“Yes, father; in a dull, stupid, heavy sort of way they seemed quite disposed to be friends. Besides, Mak seemed to do what he liked with them.”
“That’s satisfactory,” said Sir James. “We don’t want to set the doctor to work extracting arrows from any of us, and I am thoroughly averse to our using our weapons against any of these people, big or little. We had better have a halt here, doctor, for some hours, and make Mak understand that we want to visit the tribe.”
“Then you will come too, father?”
“Certainly, my boy; I shall go with the doctor and have a look at them myself.”