“Well,” said Dean softly, “I don’t see much in this.”
“Wait a bit,” whispered his cousin. “I think I do. There! See?”
And now it was as if the white party were non-existent and Mak were playing his part solely for the pigmy’s amusement, for he stepped lightly up to him as if he were carrying something in his hands, which he was holding out for him to see. Then making believe to thump one end of it down and holding it with one hand, he began to dance round it, grinning with delight, stooping down from time to time to kiss it, and hug it to his breast, and ending by making belief to load it. Then dropping on one knee, he drew trigger, uttered a sharp ejaculation to simulate a report, and then crouching behind a block of stone he went through the loading movements again, advanced, retreated, advanced again, shading his eyes with one hand, and then dropped flat on his chest and crawled out of sight behind a heap of stones.
“Well, has he done?” said Dean, in a whisper.
Mark held up his hand, and directly after the black reappeared from quite another direction, raising himself slowly from behind another block of stone, resting an imaginary rifle upon the top, before taking aim again and firing, dropping out of sight, but only to reappear once more and repeat his tactics, after which he sprang up, waving the fancied weapon and went through what was meant for a dance of triumph over the death of an enemy.
This ended as it were one part of his performance, but it was only to be followed directly after by the careful handling and petting of the rifle, which he bore now in his arms to where the pigmy was still watching his every movement and looking more excited than the big black, as he leaned forward, his face full of animation and his eyes sparkling, while Mak seemed to be expatiating in silence upon all the merits of the wonderful weapon that he had secured.
He pointed here and pointed there, and then seemed to be laying it upon a stone and drawing back to admire it, stepping backward for some distance, approaching it again, patting it from end to end, and then going back to the pigmy, to touch him on the back and point at the top of the stone.
This done, he took hold of his little black companion’s spear, stuck it up in the sand, smiling at it with contempt, and then toppled it over with a kick, before snatching the pigmy’s bow and arrow, pointing at them with his face screwed up in token of disgust, before throwing these with similar expressions of contempt to that with which he had
treated the spear, some little distance away upon the ground.