There was another drummer, who worked hard to earn his salary, whatever it might be; and then came the body-guard, armed with axes, assegais, and kiris, one and all looking, as Dinny said, as if they were the finest fellows under the sun.
“Shure, and I’d bate the whole lot wid one stick,” he muttered; and then aloud,—
“Oh, the dirty haythen; what a noise to call music! Faix, I’d pay something if Teddy Flaherty was here to give ’em one lilt o’ the pipes. They’d know then what music was.”
The marimba players beat their instruments more loudly as they approached the waggon, the drummers drubbed the skins of their drums, the man behind fired his gun, the horses snorted and grew uneasy, and Rough’un threw up his head and uttered a most dismal howl, tucked his tail between his legs, and ran off as hard as he could go; an example followed by Pompey, Caesar, and Crassus, as far as the howling was concerned, the chains by which they were secured to the waggon preventing any running away. They, however, made up for it by barking with all their might.
The king seemed to take it as a compliment, for he came up, shook hands, and condescended to drink a glass of wine, and to eat some sweet biscuits and sugar-sticks, speaking in pretty good English, which he had picked up from the missionaries, and ending by inviting Mr Rogers and his sons to dinner.
The present of a sporting knife at the end of his visit quite won his heart, and he seemed never weary of opening and shutting the blades, pulling out the toothpick, tweezers, corkscrew, and lancet, with which it was provided. After this he took his departure in the same style as that in which he came.
“Well, we may as well pay him a barbarous compliment, boys,” said Mr Rogers. “Fire off all your barrels at once. Now, make ready! fire!”
Six shots went off in rapid succession, followed by six more from Mr Rogers’ revolver.
The result was different from what was intended, for, evidently under the impression that they were being attacked in the rear, the royal party made a rush to escape, the king heading the flight, and, like his warriors, getting on pretty well; but the marimba players fell over their instruments, and the drummers got into worse difficulties still.
All at once, as there was no more firing, the king found it was a false alarm, and came back laughing, to bang his musicians about with his cane, and call them cowards. After which he came back to the waggon and asked to see the revolver let off, flinching very little, and then strutting off before his people, as much as to say, “See what a fine brave fellow I am!”