The arrival of the captives in this town—the name of which, it subsequently transpired, was Yacoahite—was the signal for an outburst of most extravagant rejoicing on the part of the inhabitants, who turned out en masse to witness the event, crowding about the party so persistently that it was only with the utmost difficulty that the guards, reinforced by a strong body from the town, were able by a free use of the butts of their spears, to force a passage along the streets. The delight of the populace, it appeared, was almost wholly due to the capture of the white men, who were the objects of their unquenchable curiosity, to such an extent, indeed, that it looked very much as though they had never before seen a white man. At length, however, the procession reached the central square, and after having, in obedience to signs, deposited their burdens in one of the biggest of the buildings, the prisoners were divided up and marched away, Dick and Earle, to their mutual delight, being placed together in a small hut, which was at once surrounded by an armed guard of such strength as to render escape impossible.
Fortunately, their limbs were not bound, or their movements hampered in any way, therefore the moment that the wattle door of their prison was slammed upon them and barred on the outside, the pair joyously shook hands as they exchanged greetings.
“Well, Dick, how goes it, old son?” demanded Earle, as he wrung his friend’s hand. “Tired?”
“Yes, I am, a bit,” admitted Dick; “tired, and thirsty too. And just look at me. Jove! I’m ashamed to be seen. I feel as though I hadn’t washed for a month. And you don’t look very much better, old chap. Say! what would you give for a swim in a good, deep river, free from alligators, at this moment?”
“What would I give?” repeated Earle. “Why, a thousand good American dollars, willingly. And I’m not sure that I should worry very much as to whether there were any ’gators in it, or not. By the way, how did you come off that morning when those ginks rushed the camp? Did you get hurt any?”
“Not a scratch,” answered Dick. “Hadn’t a chance to. The beggars were upon me and had me trussed up so that I couldn’t move hand or foot, before my eyes were fairly open. Hadn’t even time to make a snatch for my revolver. Did you get hurt at all?”
“Nope,” replied Earle. “I was just as completely taken by surprise as you were. And I am not at all sure, Dick, but that it was as well. If we—you and I—had been able to put up a fight, we could never have beaten them off, there were too many of them. We should no doubt have killed a few, but it would have ended eventually in our meeting the same fate as poor old King Cole. Poor chap! I’m sorry they killed him.”
“So am I,” agreed Dick. “But I suppose it was bound to be. He would never have allowed them to lay hands upon either of us, so they would be compelled to kill him, sooner or later. And I believe he did not suffer much. They must have killed him on the spot, I think. Peace to his ashes! And now, what do you think is going to happen to us?”
“I don’t know,” answered Earle, suddenly adopting a much graver tone. “My motto is, ‘Never say die,’ for I have been in a good many tight places and have always managed somehow to get out of them. But there is a proverb to the effect that ‘the pitcher which goes oft to the well gets broken at last,’ and it may be that here is where I get ‘broken.’ I don’t know; I don’t care to hazard an opinion. But I wish to heaven, now, that I had not brought you along with me, Dick.”
“Do you really think it as serious as all that, then?” demanded Dick.