“You make such long speeches,” cried the Inche Maida, “and you speak so slowly, that you puzzle me. I never know whether you are serious or laughing at me.”
“Oh, I am not laughing,” said Chumbley, slowly.
“Then do not ask,” said the Princess, shortly. “You are my prisoners, and must submit.”
“For the present, madam,” said Hilton, with a return of his anger; “but if you will take my advice, you will end this sorry farce at once. You will regret it if you stop too long, and find your palm-tree palace—”
“It is no palace,” said the Princess, quietly, “only a simple house.”
“Surrounded by a company of our troops, and burned to the ground.”
The Princess laughed.
“I understand you,” she said, nodding her head; “but that will not be. You English are strong and have great weapons that would destroy us at a touch. We have but our spears and krisses, so we trust to our wisdom to help us out, do you see.”
“I think I know what you mean,” said Chumbley, quietly.
“Yes,” continued the Princess, “you are right; your soldiers would soon burn down my place and kill my people to get you back; but they would have first to find us out. Do you know where you are?”