“Cover up the blood-stains, cover them up,” piped out the thin voice that proceeded from the monkey-like figure; “the king’s word is spoken, the king’s doom is done!”
Thereupon a girl came forward from behind the hut, bearing a jar filled with powdered lime, which she scattered over the red mark, blotting it from sight.
Sir Henry meanwhile was boiling with rage at what had happened; indeed, it was with difficulty that we could keep him still.
“Sit down, for heaven’s sake,” I whispered; “our lives depend on it.”
He yielded and remained quiet.
Twala sat silent until the traces of the tragedy had been removed, then he addressed us.
“White people,” he said, “who come hither, whence I know not, and why I know not, greeting.”
“Greeting, Twala, King of the Kukuanas,” I answered.
“White people, whence come ye, and what seek ye?”
“We come from the Stars, ask us not how. We come to see this land.”