“Hold your ground, old boy,” he whispered. “They’re not going to eat you. Don’t let War Chief Mikalwa show fright now.”
Three tall warriors now advanced at the chief’s signal from the bodyguard at his back. Each carried a conical cap of rhinoceros hide, with a gleaming white rhinoceros tusk, upcurving like a sickle, attached to each side. These caps were placed on the heads of the boys.
So impressive was this ceremony, there in the African night, in the heart of an African village, with the gleaming firelight flashing on spearheads and on the multitude of assembled blacks in the background, that for once the boys did not feel like giving way to the spirit of fun-making. Not a whisper passed between them. Their faces were solemn.
As for Niellsen, stationed at his camera equipped with a lens for night photography, he was grinding merrily away, assured that the film he was obtaining would be without a parallel.
After the caps with their rhino tusks had been placed on the boys’ heads, the three warriors retired, giving way to three more. These latter placed long spears in the boys’ hands, in turn giving way to still another trio who equipped them with beautifully decorated hide shields.
Once more Chief Ruku-Ru spoke, but this time to his people, and his words were followed by a burst of approving cries that seemed to shake the very leaves of the council tree drooping in the windless night overhead. Wimba translating said the chief had announced to his people that the boys now were Kikuyu warriors, and that Bob should henceforth be Mikalwa or Strong-Arm.
“You will have to thank him, fellows,” said Mr. Hampton. “And I guess, Bob, since he singled you out, it is up to you to act as spokesman.”
Bob groaned; nevertheless he advanced a step or two in front of his friends and, addressing the chief, thanked him for the honor conferred upon himself and his comrades. This Wimba translated. Then Bob tore the paper wrappings from the parcel which he had been carrying under his arm, and Jack with a start recognized it as one of their portable radio sets.
“Tell Chief Ruku-Ru,” said Bob, to Wimba, “that in return for his kindness to us, we wish to make him a present. By means of this, he can hear strange music and speech tonight and so long as we are in his vicinity.”
When Wimba had translated, Bob advanced and asked Chief Ruku-Ru to seat himself in his armchair throne. Then he adjusted the headpiece to the chief’s ears, threw a wire over the council tree, and tuned in to catch the music which Matse, who had been left behind at the camp for the purpose, was playing on the talking machine.