"Bwana!"
A sudden disturbance arose outside, followed by a shout in German. One of the seamen entered and made a hurried speech in that language, to which the doctor nodded, looking slightly surprised. The man hurried out again.
"Ah! I thought we saw you land Miss Helmuth yesterday, yess!" He beamed on the American, caressing the thin cigar in his mouth, and his face was cruel. "Also I thought she would not stay out in the jungle long, for here she iss!"
Hammer started. Was Sara really coming, then? She or Omar must have seen that he and Solomon were prisoners, of course, but it was a mad thing to come in and throw away their best chance of rescue!
He flung a despairing glance at Solomon, which fetched a chuckle from Krausz, but Solomon merely stared like a surprised baby and kept silence.
Of course the girl would lead out her men and make what show of force she could, thought Hammer, edging around to get a view of the ground immediately outside the tent.
With fifteen men here, and ten more under Omar against his fourteen, even the stubborn Saxon must see that he was outnumbered. An instant later the American felt dismay tugging at his heart.
For Sara Helmuth came in alone, with neither Afghan nor Arab behind her, but with an askaris and a seaman conducting her. With a glance at Hammer and Solomon she walked up to Krausz, who doffed his sun-helmet for a wonder, and opened fire.
"What does this mean, doctor? Are my friends your prisoners?"
"Not at all, dear lady," he beamed, putting forward a camp-chair, which she ignored. "Thiss Mr. Hammer iss a murderer, and later on Adolf takes him back to justice, yess! Thiss Mr. Solomon is an impudent little fat man, who gets turned out in the jungle to starve—but away from hiss men, yess, away from hiss men. Not on the seaward side, you understand!"