Although, despite their proximity to the advance guards of white civilization, the boys had found the Kikuyus still living in primitive state, nevertheless they found them peaceful. Adventures had been few. Not only had they seldom been in any danger from the natives, but wild animals also had been scarce.
It was not until they came to Chief Ruku-Ru’s territory where Mr. Hampton had departed with Niellsen, the cameraman, for the dried-up bed of a river where baboons were said to be in the habit of coming to dig for water, that the first real adventure befell them. That was the arrest and trial of Wimba, and his consequent release as related.
It was only by accident that the boys were on hand. Ordinarily they would have been with Mr. Hampton and Niellsen. But Bob’s succumbing to fever had kept them behind to provide him with company and attendance. Bob’s fever was not sufficiently strong enough to cause Mr. Hampton any real anxiety, however, so, leaving the boys careful instructions regarding the medicines to be given their comrade, he had departed with Niellsen and a few bearers carrying camera, film box, etc.
With this digression, let us return to camp. The quick-falling African night was closing in and the boys were finishing preparations for the concert which they had promised to bring out of the air to the assembled villagers about the council tree.
Frank and Jack had just completed a complete overhauling of the talking machine which they planned to use and were dusting off the records of martial band music which they considered would provide the most acceptable concert for savage ears. Bob who was feeling considerably improved was lolling on a camp cot, watching them.
“Hey, fellows,” he said suddenly, “has it occurred to you that some warrior more curious and less fearful than the rest might climb up into the council tree? If one does, and if he finds the aerial or the loudspeaker which you concealed there, good night. Even if he ran away from it, he might damage it first so that your concert would be a fizzle.”
Jack stopped work, a record in one hand, dusting cloth in the other.
“That’s right, Bob. Hadn’t thought of that.”
But Frank looked unconcerned.
“From what Wimba and Matse tell me,” he said, “Most Kikuyus wouldn’t dare to climb into that sacred tree. I had a hard time getting even those two to ascend it with me last night and help locate our traps. And they’ve lived in Nairobi and come in contact with the whites and have lost some of their native superstitions. And now that we caused the voice of our mysterious spirit to emanate from the tree today, I feel pretty sure there isn’t a Kikuyu whom you could pay to climb it.”