“I am afraid you are misjudging our visitors here,” said Colonel Wrayford quietly.
“I am sure I am not. I swear I saw that dark fellow with the cut on his cheek leading a charge.”
“There; what did I tell you?” whispered Bracy.
“And what did I tell you about the old man seeing as far into a millstone as is necessary for being on the safe side?”
“Yes; and I am glad his observation was so keen.”
“He’s all right, old fellow; but hist! what is it? Ah, that’s right. Wrayford is glad to hear that the chief of the Red Dwats is so friendly to the Queen, and his request for arms and ammunition shall be sent to the proper quarter. Now, then, what does he say to that?”
One of the interpreters spoke to say that the great chief of the Red Dwats would camp in the valley above, so as to be close at hand if any of the sons of Shaitan who had been molesting the fort before should dare to approach again. They were all gone back now to their own valleys in fear, through his approach, and now the two great English Generals and their men might sleep in peace.
“Thank you. Bravo! Encore, Sambo!” said Roberts softly. “Going? Pray remember me to all at home.”
“Ugh!” raged out Bracy below his breath; “if ever treachery was plainly marked upon a smiling, handsome face, it is there in that scoundrel’s. Roberts, we must never trust these men within our guard.”
“Most certainly not, old fellow; but I suppose we must let them go back in safety, like the noble ambassadors they are.”