Frank fired. Three shots he pumped into the treetop. Scarcely had the echo died away, and before Chief Ruku-Ru or anybody else, either, for that matter, could speak, than the voice from the air rang again in the Kikuyu tongue.
“I am a Spirit,” it cried. “Neither white man’s thunder nor Kikuyu arrows can avail against me. Obey, O Chief Ruku-Ru, or thy country shall be laid under my spell. Set Wimba free.”
Neither Frank nor Jack could understand what was said. But well they knew that Matse was merely uttering into the broadcasting phone in their tent, while Bob manipulated the motor, those statements which upon his signals Frank had arranged he should declaim. And that such was the case was apparent from the profound and devastating effect upon the chief and his followers.
It was unnecessary for Wimba to translate the messages from the air for the boys’ benefit.
Chief Ruku-Ru managed upon the dying away of the mysterious voice to gain some control over himself. Not for nothing was he chief. His self-command was remarkable. The more so in view of the fact that he was as profoundly impressed and terror-stricken by these manifestations which Frank had evoked as was the meanest of his followers.
He did not rise from his armchair throne, for the very good reason that he feared his treacherous knees would give way beneath him. But he did manage to speak.
Pointing to the two guards who clasped Wimba on either side, he ordered them to release their prisoner. To Frank and Jack, tense and anxious regarding the outcome of their experiment, his words were as so much Greek. But they were left in no doubt as to their meaning.
The guards at once untied the cords binding Wimba’s wrists together behind his back and unwound the heavier rope about his right ankle tying him to a stake in the ground. Likewise they released their grip on his arms. Then they bowed low to him.
A moment Wimba stood uncertain. He was dazed. He could hardly believe his good fortune. He gazed first at the chief, then at the encircling natives, half of whom were poised for flight, fearing a further demonstration by the white man’s god, and finally brought his eyes to bear upon Frank.
Then with an inarticulate cry of gratitude, he rushed across the intervening space, and threw himself on the ground. Tears streaming from his eyes, he clasped Frank’s feet and in broken sentences thanked him for his deliverance.