Chief Ruku-Ru half rose from his chair in anger at this interruption. But before he could give a command to have the boys seized, if such discourtesy to his guests was contemplated, Jack holding himself proudly erect addressed the throne.
“Oh, great chief,” he cried in English, “we be strangers in your land, it is true. Yet have we watched with interest the progress of this trial, and your impartial conduct. But we believe you have been deceived by liars amongst those who seek Wimba’s life. Therefore we appeal to our gods to speak from the sky and tell you the truth. Wimba,” he commanded, “tell the chief what I have said. Forget nothing. There will be a voice from the sky and in the chief’s own language. Do not fear. But speak quickly.”
From his position between two tall Kikuyu warriors, Wimba who stood to the left of the chief, had been listening in blankest astonishment. His strong face with the thin lips and intelligent lines of many of the Kikuyu tribesmen had betrayed as much despair as his self-restraint under ordeal would permit him to betray, when Jack had begun to speak. But now not only the despair but the succeeding astonishment disappeared.
“Speak Wimba,” commanded Jack. “Remember what you placed in the council tree for us last night.”
He was safe, he knew, in thus reminding Wimba, as none in the audience had any knowledge of English. And he had explained enough of the mysteries of radio the previous night, when the entire village slept after heavy potations of native beer following a royal reception to the new guests, to give Wimba confidence now that Jack would be able as he promised to bring a voice seemingly out of the sky.
At any rate, Wimba was in a desperate situation. He was ready to grasp at any straw. Gazing about he saw the multitude of natives crowding close, awaiting the verdict. He saw Chief Ruku-Ru open-mouthed at the white boy’s interruption. He knew if he were going to act, he must act at once. Otherwise the chief would order the interrupters seized, perhaps; and most certainly would order him slain.
And he could not contemplate being staked out on an ant hill with equanimity.
Bowing low, Wimba addressed Chief Ruku-Ru in a loud voice. The boys could not understand his words, for he spoke in the Kikuyu tongue. But they could perceive that he was making their startling announcement, for over the chief’s face spread a look of startled bewilderment while through the swarm of natives sweeping around behind them in a semi-circle passed a murmur like a wind rippling the surface of a lake.
They watched Wimba closely, and saw the perspiration burst on his face. He was speaking in deadly earnestness, for it was a matter of life or death to him.
When Wimba ceased, Chief Ruku-Ru appeared to pull himself together and he addressed a few sharp words to Wimba in a contemptuous tone.