This went on for some time, while, knowing the anxiety at their own camp, Norman crouched there watching them, till Shanter whispered softly, “All go along. Mine glad.”
He was right, for suddenly one man sprang up and took his spear, the others followed his example; and they stood talking together just as the rising sun peered over the horizon and turned their glistening black bodies into dark bronze.
Then followed a good deal of talking and pointing, as if some were for climbing over the ridge, and at first the others seemed disposed to follow them; but another disposition came over the party, and, shouldering their spears, they went off toward the mountains, one portion of which formed a saddle, from which at either end two lines of eminences of nearly equal height went right away as if there was a deep valley between.
“Baal black fellow now. Come all along, Shanter want big damper.”
They waited a few minutes longer, till the party had disappeared in what looked to be the bed of a dry stream, leading up into the mountains; and then, with a feeling of elation in his breast, Norman hurried to a prominent part of the edge of the steep escarpment, and stood holding his gun up on high with both hands, horizontally, as agreed upon, till, with a fierce look, Shanter ran to him and dragged it down, giving a sharp look toward the place where the blacks had disappeared.
“Little Marmi want myall black fellow come along?”
“Baal black fellow now,” said Norman; and Shanter’s fierce countenance became mirthful.
“Baal black fellow now!” he cried, with a hoarse chuckle. “Baal black fellow now. You pidney?”
“Yes, I pidney—I understand,” cried Norman, laughing.
“Come all along. Shanter want big damper. Break-fuss,” he added with a grin.