“It is very good, and the Spirits will be well pleased when they learn that you have granted our request,” answered Dick.
The king gave vent to a sigh of evident relief; it was clear that he wished to stand well with these two friends of the great and terrible Spirits of the Winds, who by the potency of their magic had been able to punish his predecessor M’Bongwele for his evil-doing, and to place himself upon the vacant throne. Yet it was apparent that there was still something at the back of the king’s mind, something that he keenly desired yet hesitated to speak of. For two or three minutes he sat plunged in deep and painful meditation; then he looked up and said:
“It is well; I am glad that ye have come hither, O white men! for when ye return to your own country ye will be able to tell the Spirits that I have faithfully obeyed all the injunctions that they laid upon me. Ha! There is one thing more that I would ask. Ye speak not the tongue of the Makolo, yet ye were able to communicate with my people as soon as ye entered my borders. By what means did ye so?”
“Oh, quite easily!” answered Dick—who, being the better linguist of the two, naturally assumed the part of spokesman. “We have with us a man who speaks the Makolo tongue, and whose language we speak; therefore we communicate with your people through him.”
“Good!” exclaimed the king, in accents of extraordinary satisfaction; “it is very good. Go now in peace, O white men! Ye are my friends, and no harm shall befall ye while ye stay in the country of the Makolo; I the king say it. And it may be, O healer of sicknesses! that I can help you in the matter of the shining stones that ye crave to possess. See ye these?” And he pointed to the necklace of ruddy, unpolished stones that he wore.
Dick stepped forward to look closer at the stones, and finally took the loop of the necklace into his hands. At first sight the stones appeared to be no more than ordinary red pebbles, about the size of a plover’s egg, or perhaps a little larger, the only peculiarity being that they were exactly alike in colour, and that they all emitted a rich, ruddy light. For a minute or two Dick stood carefully examining the stones; and as he did so a faint, elusive memory came to him in connection with them. Then suddenly the memory became clear and, carefully suppressing his excitement, he turned to Grosvenor and said, in quite an ordinary tone of voice:
“Just come and have a look at these stones, Phil, but be careful not to betray anything in the nature of astonishment or admiration. Do you remember reading that those four chaps in the Flying-Fish accidentally stumbled upon, first, the king’s ruby necklace, and then, through it, a ruby mine? Well, this is undoubtedly the necklace; and our friend here seems to hint that he is willing to show us the spot where similar stones may be found.”
“Looks like it, certainly,” answered Grosvenor in carefully modulated, matter-of-fact tones. “Jolly fine stones, aren’t they? If you can contrive to take home a sackful of those stones, old man, you need no longer fear money troubles, eh? What?”
“A sackful!” ejaculated Dick, with a laugh. “A peck of them will completely satisfy me, my boy.” Then, turning to Lobelalatutu, who was keenly watching them both, he said:
“These stones, O King! are very good and of some value in my country, though worthless here. Know you where they are to be found?”