“I know,” answered the king; “and it may be that I will show you the place; I cannot yet say, but I will consider the matter. I have given instructions as to the place where your wagon shall outspan; it is near at hand, between the village and the ruins; and if ye need anything, send word by your servant to me, and I will see to it.”
“We thank you, O Lobelalatutu!” answered Dick. “We go now; but to-morrow we will come again, bearing with us the gifts that we have brought for thee from England. Until then, farewell!”
Shortly after nine o’clock that night, while the two friends, having dined, were sitting under the raised front flap of their tent, enjoying the wonderful view of the ruins, rising gaunt and black in the midst of the landscape, flooded by the rays of the newly risen moon, and chatting in desultory fashion over the events of the day, as Grosvenor pulled contemplatively at his well-charred brier pipe, Mafuta appeared before them and, giving the usual salute, said:
“There is one from the village yonder who would speak with my lords, if they be willing.”
“Who is it, Mafuta—a man, or a woman?” demanded Dick.
“It is a man, ’mlungu” answered Mafuta. Then, drawing still nearer, and lowering his voice almost to a whisper, he added: “He says he is named Lobelalatutu!”
“The king!” exclaimed Dick, starting to his feet in amazement. “What the dickens is up now, I wonder? Is he armed, Mafuta?”
“Nay, lord, he is weaponless,” answered Mafuta.
“Bring him hither,” commanded Dick; “we will speak with him.”