It was not the fear of bodily ill, but it was the fear of the scientist who sees that thing for which he has worked and planned and bartered his soul suddenly about to be snatched from him.
It is a bad fear to have place in a man's heart, but worse when that man is able and determined and when he has staked much upon the issue.
"What's become of the natives?" asked Hammer when they were about to turn in. "Krausz had about two hundred of 'em the last time I was here."
Solomon chuckled. "I sent 'em word to be gone 'ome, sir. They worship some kind o' snake god 'ereabouts, Mr. 'Ammer, so I sent 'em a quiet 'int that the doctor 'e was a-goin' to sacrifice some of 'em. That settled it."
"Snake god?" repeated the American thoughtfully. "Anything to do with that den of snakes we were talking about?"
"Not as I knows on, sir. To be downright frank, it's some years since I've been and lived 'ere, sir, and I ain't kept in touch rightly wi' things. 'Owsoever, it may be, though I 'as me doubts."
"Snakes don't live without food," retorted Hammer. "They might have a sort of voodoo business along here, which would explain their snake god and also why the snakes had kept alive—for I guess Omar ibn Kasim was telling the truth after all, in part."
Leaving to the morning the question whether they were to be hostages or captives or free men, Hammer slept the sleep of the just that night. They were wakened to receive an early breakfast, which was soon followed by the intimation that "Bwana Krausz" wished to see them in the other tent. Solomon nodded, but stopped Hammer as the latter was preparing to follow the Masai.
"Just a minute, sir. It strikes me that you 'ave a way to make 'im give up Jenson, if so be as 'e refuses, Mr. 'Ammer."
"Eh? How's that?"