"Then," he said, "I think he will be here in a day or two. Some of my people have gone for him, but I am not sure that he will have much to tell us when he comes. In the meanwhile you will stay with us a few days, and when I am ready to talk about the boys again I will send for you."
He made a sign that the interview was over, and several of his followers who were armed escorted the white men and their boys to the hut set apart for them. They left them there with a plainly worded hint that it would be wise of them not to come out of it, and when they went away Ormsgill looked at Nares.
"I suppose you're not sure what that Headman really meant," he said. "A man naturally has you at a disadvantage when he doesn't wish to make himself very clear and talks in a tongue you don't quite understand. I wish I knew exactly why he chuckled."
Nares looked thoughtful. "He seemed to know we meant to visit him."
"It's evident. How I don't quite understand. We traveled fast. Still, he did know. In the meanwhile we can only wait."
They waited, somewhat anxiously, for several days, knowing that Herrero, whose presence promised to complicate affairs, was drawing nearer all the while. There was, however, no other course open to them, for when they attempted to leave the hut a big man armed with a matchet who kept watch outside informed them it was the Headman's pleasure that they should stay there until he was at liberty to talk to them.
At last one morning word was brought them, and Ormsgill looked about him in astonishment when they walked into the wide space in the midst of the straggling village. All round it stood long rows of dusky men, most of whom were armed, but only a small and apparently select company sat under the thatched roof in the shadow of which the Headman had previously received them.
"There is something very unusual going on. Half these men seem to be strangers, and they have Sniders," he said. "I expect Domingo could tell how they got them, but I don't seem to see him." Then he touched his comrade's shoulder. "I fancy we can expect something dramatic. There's a man yonder we have met before."
Nares felt that the scene was already sufficiently impressive. The strip of empty sand in front of him flung up a dazzling glare. The sky the palm tufts cut against was of a harsh blue that one could scarcely look upon, and the village was flooded with an almost intolerable brilliancy which flashed upon glittering matchets and Snider barrels. It also smote the massed white draperies and flickered with an oily gleam on ebony limbs and the sea of dusky faces turned expectantly towards the group beneath the thatch. Most of the men there sat on the ground, but there were two seated figures, the village Headman, and the Suzerain lord of his country, the old man they had met already, on a slightly higher stool. He, at least, was dressed in dignified fashion in a long robe of spotless cotton, and a few men with tall spears stood in state behind him. His face was impassively grim, and Nares's heart beat a trifle faster as his eyes rested on him, but at the same time he was sensible of an expectancy so tense that it drove out personal anxiety. He almost felt that he was watching for the opening of the drama from a place of safety.
In the meanwhile he moved towards the thatch with his comrade until they stopped a few yards' distance from the Suzerain, who leaned forward a little and looked at Ormsgill steadily. He was of commanding presence, but there was something in his attitude which suggested that he regarded this stranger as an equal, though he was lord of that country, and the other stood before him, a spare, lonely figure in white duck, with nothing in his hands.