“These Africans are just children, after all,” said Mr. Hampton, shaking his head. “They don’t know the meaning of the word restraint. Well, now for a good night’s sleep, everybody. We start at dawn.”
CHAPTER X
ONE GOOD TURN
Camp was broken at the first faint streaks of dawn the next day. Mr. Hampton was eager to penetrate farther up-country in order to get into a big game region of which he had heard reports. And by the time day had fully broken, the column was on its way.
Looking back from the top of a little hill, the three boys could see the village of Chief Ruku-Ru, which they had skirted, still sleeping after its exciting night. Ahead, through the long buffalo grass, wound the bearers under the direction of Wimba and Matse, each man either carrying a bundle on his head or else supporting on his shoulders one end of a pole from which was slung one of the more bulky articles of equipment, while a companion upheld the other.
Then they dropped down on the other side of the rise, and the village was lost to view.
“I wonder if we’ll ever pass that way again,” mused Jack.
“If we do,” said Frank, “there’ll be an ebony, chieftain looking for War Chief Mikalwa’s scalp.”
“What do you mean, looking for my scalp?” demanded Bob.
“Oh, nothing,” said Frank, airily. “Only when Chief Ruku-Ru goes to put on his headpiece after we’ve left and thinks he’s going to hear a concert, how do you think he’ll regard you?”
Bob laughed. “Well he had a good time with it last night. And, besides, possession of that set will always mean something to him. It’s white man’s magic. And that alone will raise him in the esteem of his people.”