A modicum of rum was served out, and the chief, Gabo, was asked to drink.
He drew back in horror.
"No, soldiers, no!" he cried. "Dat am de debil foh true. Sometime we hab plenty from the oil-traders at Gwato. Den we all go mad, and mooch kill eberybody. Now we nebber look at he."
A band of girls came in afterwards, and danced while they sang. A strange wild dance it was, with many wonderful swayings of arms and bodies.
An hour after this the British were sleeping soundly.
All hands were called just a little before sunrise, and what a gorgeous sight they beheld! Only a Turner could have done justice to that sky of orange gray and gold, and to the splendid landscape of forest and water that lay between. Lake on lake, stream or creek everywhere, and the purple mist of distance over all, save where a lake caught the crimson glare of the sun and was turned into blood.
And down beneath them the nearest braes were clad in a wealth of wild heaths and geraniums, and many a charming flower hugging the barer patches. The officers were silent as they gazed on all this loveliness.
"No beauty such as this," said Grant at last, "can be seen even in Scotland."
But every bush seemed to be alive with bird-song, every leaf appeared to hide some feathered songster; and when any of these flitted from tree to tree, it was found that they were quite as beautiful in colour as the flowers themselves.
The air, too, was cool and delightful.