The rest of his speech to the Somali he continued, partly in Swahili, partly in English, the former language being rather meagre in phraseology. But this is the gist of what he did say:
“I could kill you if I liked. It would be mean, however. Now take your time and get your breath, then if you like I’ll give it to you English fashion.”
He paused, and the Somali stood there glaring and foaming with fury.
After a minute—
“Time’s up,” said Harry, and, taking two or three paces to the rear, he threw rifle and shot-belt on the ground; then, pointing to them—
“Touch these, my friend, if you dare,” he said.
No two biddings did the Somali require. He sprang towards the rifle as springs the jungle cat on its prey. Harry’s blow was finely planted, and I am sure that Indian must have imagined, for the time being, that there were considerably more stars in the sky than ever he had seen before.
He rose and flew at Harry. He flew but to fall, and he rose and rose again, only to fall and fall again!
Harry could not help admiring his pluck.
He was conquered at last, though.