Wimba in the meantime, as soon as Bob had finished speaking had addressed the pseudo-chief.
The latter replied, and Wimba turning with beaming face cried joyfully:
“Him say all right, baas. If Mikalwa be big chief him can set all friends free.”
“Good,” shouted Bob. And turning toward his astounded comrades, still seated in their blankets, he flung out both hands in a magnificent gesture, as if showering largess upon them. “Fellows,” he cried, “receive your freedom at the hands of Big Chief Mikalwa, otherwise known as”—he paused for dramatic effect, then added—“the snake charmer.”
Spinning about he laughed and said: “All right, Wimba. Show’s over. Give each of the actors an extra help of tobacco. I’m proud of you and your troupe.”
Wimba spoke rapidly to the others, and on each face broke out a broad smile while the trio standing guard over the boys lowered their clubs and relaxed their hostile attitude. The smiles gave way to chuckles as the Negroes took in the dazed expression spreading over the features of Frank and Jack. And then as Bob, unable longer to control his mirth, broke into loud laughter, the Negroes followed suit.
With a vigorous thrust of his bare foot against the chest of each, Bob sent Jack and Frank toppling backward into their blankets. With a wave of the hand, he indicated Wimba and his impromptu minstrel troupe should withdraw. And while Jack and Frank still were struggling to right themselves and, at the same time, to readjust their reeling thoughts to this outrageous development of the situation, the chuckling Kikuyus filed out with Wimba bringing up the rear and casting knowing grins over his shoulder at Bob.
“Look here,” said Jack, sitting up and regarding Bob with a rueful expression, “did you honestly put those Johnnies up to that?”
“I can’t believe it yet,” said Frank, running his fingers through his uncombed hair.
Bob laughed. “Just a little show for your benefit,” he said. “I thought you’d appreciate what real talent could do—after your own puny effort last night.”