“Well, go on,” said the doctor.
“It is all very well to say, Go on, sir,” retorted Mark, “but it isn’t a Latin exercise, and it isn’t an equation. I don’t know how to begin.”
Then as a thought struck him he bent down to the little chief and touched his bangles and armlets, finishing off by placing a finger upon the thin ribbon-like band which bound his forehead.
The little fellow looked at him wonderingly as if he did not understand, and turning to the doctor’s patient he said a word or two in a questioning tone.
This was answered in almost a whisper of a couple of monosyllabic words, which resulted in the little chief slipping one wire bangle from his arm and handing it to Mark, the Illaka looking on attentively the while.
Mark shook his head, but the little fellow thrust the bangle into his hand and looked at him enquiringly.
“No, no,” said Mark, “I want to know where you get it.”
The words had no sooner passed the boy’s lips than the pigmy snatched off the fellow bangle from above his elbow, and held them both out.
“No, no, no,” replied Mark, “We—want—to—know—where—you—got—them.”
The little fellow laughed, stooped quickly, and took off the slender little anklets, holding now the four ornaments as if for the boy’s acceptance.