“Certainly, sir,” said the doctor, laughing. “But it’s rather a queer way of learning our route. I agree with Mark, though, that both Mark and the pigmy mean the city, only the little fellow tries to tell us that we shall find the gold there, while Mak means the big stones.”
“Big stones!” cried Mak sharply, as he caught the words. “Boss—find—big—stones;” and he waved his spear again after pointing towards the forest and then describing the route they must follow in the air.
Mak watched the doctor eagerly, then turned to the little chief, said a word or two, and the little fellow passed on what was evidently an order to his followers, who began to move off, when a thought struck Mark and he caught the little chief by the arm and led him towards the second waggon.
“Here, Dean,” he cried, “jump in and get those two new spare knives out of the fore chest. Look sharp. I’m afraid to leave go. This fellow’s all of a quiver with fright, and I am afraid he will bolt.”
“All right,” was the reply, and leaving Mark and his prisoner waiting, the boy sprang up into the waggon, and came back with a couple of strongly made, buckhorn-handled, four-bladed pocket knives, one of which Mark slipped into his pocket, retaining the other in his hand.
“You take my place,” he said, “and hold tight. Don’t let him go.”
Then turning to the little black he began to open slowly first one and then another of the highly polished blades, which glittered in the sun, while without attempting to resist, the little fellow stared at him wildly, and it was easy to read his emotions in his twitching face.
“Now, you see this?” said Mark, as holding out the knife close to their prisoner he snapped back first one and then two more of the shining blades, which went back into the haft with sharp snaps. Then taking a step to the nearest bush, with one sharp cut he took off a good-sized bough, returning to where the pigmy was watching him, trimming the piece of wood as he walked, and leaving the twigs besprinkling the ground.
“There,” said Mark, as he closed the remaining blade, after wiping it carefully where it was moistened with sap, “I didn’t want to rob you of your gold rings, and you have been a very good little fellow, so that’s for you.”
As he finished speaking he thrust the closed knife into the little chiefs hand, and then walked back with him to where the weak-looking little patient sat watching all that had gone on with wide open eyes.