Smiling satisfiedly, he hastily disrobed and got back into his “flea” bag. Hardly had he settled down again, than Wimba poked his head into the tent and, catching Bob’s meaning glance and nod of the head, shouldered his way inside, hands bound behind him. And close at his heels came six of the most fearful looking warriors one could find in all Africa.
CHAPTER XI
TURN ABOUT
Three of the warriors bore hide shields and spears, which Bob knew to be those given him and his comrades by Chief Ruku-Ru upon their induction into the clan as warriors. The bearers carried no such war paraphernalia. And these had been taken from the baggage. The others handled wicked-appearing clubs studded with spikes, such as sometimes were used in battling smaller animals.
All six were the tallest and best formed amongst the bearers. And hastily though they had bedaubed themselves, yet the job had been thorough-going. As he looked at the grinning mask on the chest of the tallest who was to enact the role of leader, Bob shuddered involuntarily.
So noiseless had been the entry of the party into the tent that Jack and Frank still slept soundly and Wimba, who knew the location of every object in the tent, experienced no difficulty in collecting the automatics lying close to each sleeper. Bob nodded approval. Here was something of which he had failed to take account. Good for Wimba. He wasn’t taking any chances on having his men potted before explanations could be made.
Then Wimba with a toe stirred first Jack and then Frank, and as they opened their eyes Bob composed his features into a glare of angry surprise in keeping with the role he had set himself to act.
Both newly-roused boys struggled upright, as did Bob. And beside each a warrior with knobbed club threateningly upraised sprang to take his place. Fear written in every feature, Wimba stood cringing in the middle of the tent, gazing from one to the other of the boys and trying to speak, but experiencing difficulty, apparently, in emitting any sound at all. He was the picture of a man in mortal terror. And Bob almost forgot himself and the part he must play, in his delight at Wimba’s histrionic abilities.
As for Jack and Frank, so real did it all seem to them that there was no thought in their minds but what a terrible calamity had befallen the party. The camp had been raided, and at the very moment when they believed themselves in friendly territory and had not considered it necessary to post guards. Wimba was a prisoner. And some ghastly fate undoubtedly awaited themselves. Jack and Frank both were pale. And seeing them glance about wildly, as if in search of their revolvers, Bob was mightily pleased that Wimba’s forethought had removed the weapons from reach.
Before either Frank or Jack could speak, Bob took charge of the situation. Glaring ferociously as the black warrior towering above him with upraised club, who glared just as ferociously at him in return, Bob shouted to Wimba:
“What’s the meaning of this, Wimba?”