“Yes,” said Mr. Hampton, “and I was fortunate enough to obtain a picture of the baboon turning the crank, for I was standing nearby with my camera when it occurred. So you see we could show an actual ‘still’ of the baboon playing photographer.”
Dinner was hastily consumed, and then the whole party escorted by a guard of honor from the chief’s own bodyguard, comprising the tallest and best formed of the young warriors, proceeded to the village.
Under the council tree in his battered arm chair sat Chief Ruku-Ru, and near him the boys took their station. A great fire blazing in the middle of the square threw off a dancing light which illumined the mud walls of the nearest huts, showed rank on rank of dusky bodies gathered in the square and, falling upon the spears of the chief’s bodyguard at his back, struck from their brightly polished heads a myriad gleams as if fireflies flitted in the dusk.
A hush hung over the scene, a solemnity that impressed itself on the boys. And as they took their places at the chief’s right, surrounded by their warrior escort, they spoke only in whispers.
“What’s that package under your arm, Bob?” asked Jack, for the first time noting a bulky package borne by his comrade. “Is it—”
But he did not get to finish his question, for Mr. Hampton laying a warning hand on his arm enjoined silence as Chief Ruku-Ru, rising from his chair and advancing several steps in their direction, began to address them.
He spoke at length, the sound of his voice alone being heard in the great square. And when he had finished, Wimba translated hurriedly.
Chief Ruku-Ru, said he, was deeply grateful to the young white men for the part they had played in routing the Bone Crusher’s warriors. For this, all three were to be admitted to warriorhood in the clan.
“It’s just as if you fellows were young squires in some old medieval kingdom,” whispered Mr. Hampton. “And the king was about to lay the accolade on your shoulders and acclaim you knights.” Moreover, continued Wimba, while Chief Ruku-Ru stood silent, with folded arms, awaiting the interpreter’s conclusion, Bob was to be especially honored. He had overcome the Bone Crusher, and had proved himself the mightiest of all Kikuyu warriors. He was to be given the title of Mikalwa which meant Strong-Arm and the honorary rank of war chief of the clan.
As the import of Wimba’s words dawned upon him, big Bob could be seen by a close observer to pale slightly. And Frank was a close observer.