The tracker spoke in Swahili, a dialect spoken by many tribes in different parts of Africa, of which Dick understood a few words.
"Bwana Dick," he said earnestly. "We are near the place where we leave the canoes. I have seen signs of enemies. So be quiet, Bwana Dick, and tell your talkative friend to be silent."
Dick translated in whispers and Dan followed the warning.
Cautiously the canoe entered a wide part of the stream where vines and bushes grew in a patch of sunlight.
Mutaba looked at the banks carefully for signs of footprints or broken branches that would tell of intruders, then pointed to a certain spot where the earth had been trodden by animals who came to drink.
"This is the place, Bwana Dick," he said. "I go first."
As the canoe touched the shore, the powerful native leaped to the bank as lightly as a cat, crouched low as if smelling the ground and examined every inch of the soil near him.
Then he peered into the forest depths carefully and finally raised one hand as a signal.
His blacks, who had been holding their bows in readiness for an attack, now followed him, and canoe after canoe unloaded.
Mutaba led the way by a narrow trail to a clearing where the forces could assemble, and here the Taharans and the Gorols awaited orders from the Mahatma.