For both it was a weird experience. Under the silver radiance of the African moon, now at the full, the square was bright. Any lingering shadows not dispelled by that flood of moonlight, disappeared, vanquished before the dancing gleams of a great fire. For the night here on the uplands was cool and the savages had built a roaring fire which crackled and leaped in the center of the square. To one side sat Chief Ruku-Ru in his armchair throne, surrounded by his bodyguard of tall warriors with spears erect, while in a semi-circle about the fire and facing the council tree squatted row upon row of natives. And beyond them on every hand shown the conical roofs of the big huts.
At first alarmed at the music, the natives soon got over their fears and in no time at all, as Jack called to Frank’s attention, they were swaying to the strains. Jack decided to take advantage of this tendency on the part of the rhythm-loving blacks. On leaving their encampment, he and Frank had noted on a slip of paper the names of the records Bob intended to play and their order. Between each two records Bob was to permit the lapse of a couple of minutes, in order that his comrades might be able to announce to Chief Ruku-Ru and the Kikuyus what the next number would be. In this way, they could add to their reputation as wizards, for wizards the Kikuyus believed them to be.
“The next number is going to be one of those Hawaiian things,” he whispered to Frank, as the strains of a familiar Sousa march drew near their conclusion. “Let’s announce to Chief Ruku-Ru that we are about to summon out of the air a piece of music for the especial benefit of the wonderful Kikuyu dancers of whom we have heard so much.”
“Good idea,” Frank nodded. “That Hawaiian umty-tum will be just about their speed.”
Jack whispered to Wimba and, upon conclusion of the march, the latter arose in the scheduled interval before the next number was to be broadcasted, and made Jack’s announcement. That it met with friendly reception was apparent to the two boys by the stir of interest which went through the crowd.
“Who do you think will dance?” whispered Frank.
“I don’t know,” said Jack. “Perhaps everybody.”
The music began and at the first strains of the wailing syncopated air with its suggestion of beaten tom-toms, of jungles and of tropic nights, the Kikuyus uttered low cries of approval. From their place near Chief Ruku-Ru the boys looking out over that assemblage saw that now, indeed, they had won the hearts of the savages.
Suddenly, from amidst the ranks of the natives squatting on their heels, the lithe slim figure of a young Kikuyu warrior sprang into the wide space about the fire.
Firelight falling upon him illumined the gleaming muscles of his body, naked except for breech clout. He stood a moment, still, rigid as a statue, then began to turn slowly about as if on a pivot.