As he spoke the picture became blurred and indistinct, prismatic colours began to come and go upon the curtain of vapour, and suddenly out flashed the image of a wide-stretching sun-lit plain, upon which were drawn up on parade, in illimitable perspective, a countless host of British troops, infantry, cavalry, and artillery, with bayonets, swords, and lance-points gleaming in the sun, with colours uncased, guns limbered up, and all apparently ready and waiting for the order to march. So realistic was the picture that even the baronet and Lethbridge could scarcely repress an exclamation of astonishment, and as for M’Bongwele and his people, they were perfectly breathless with surprise. The picture was allowed to remain clear, brilliant, and distinct for some ten minutes, then the radiant disc rapidly faded until it vanished altogether, and nothing remained but the red glimmer of the smouldering fire.
A heavy sigh issued from M’Bongwele’s breast, and he rose to his feet.
“It is enough,” he said. “Let me go home.”
He advanced gropingly to the gangway (for it was now very dark), when, in an instant, every one of the electric lights in the ship flashed out at their fullest brightness, brilliantly illuminating the deck, and turning night into day for fully a mile round, and, under the clear steely radiance thus unexpectedly furnished him, the king slowly made his way to the ground, mounted his horse in silence, and galloped away at the head of his followers. The illumination of the ship was maintained until the cavalcade was well clear of the ruins, when the side-ladder was drawn up, the lights extinguished, and M’Bongwele was left to make the remainder of his way as best he could in the darkness.
“Well,” said the professor as the quartette wended their way below to dinner, “how have I managed?”
“Admirably,” answered Sir Reginald and the colonel together. “Never, surely,” continued the latter, “was African king so completely overawed in so short a time as this fellow has been to-day.”
“We all, and I especially, owe you thanks, colonel, for the sublime sang froid with which you stood up and allowed yourself to be made a target of to-day,” said von Schalckenberg. “Believe me, I would never have made the proposal I did had I suspected that the part of target would have been so cleverly transferred to someone else. But the crafty fellow evidently suspected what you English call ‘a plant’—a prearranged plan—and he thought that by adopting the course he did he would have us at advantage.”
“Oh,” laughed the colonel scornfully, “that was a mere trifle, less than nothing. I saw that the fellow was confident of his skill as a marksman and anxious to show off, so I felt perfectly easy in my mind. Had it been one of our own men, now—” An expressive shrug of the shoulders finished the sentence.
“Yes,” remarked the baronet reflectively, “what a pity it is that they are not trained to individually select and aim at a particular object. If they were, no troops in the world could stand up for ten minutes before them. But, speaking of troops, professor, what a master-stroke that was of yours to give the darkies an opportunity of comparing their own soldiers with ours. How on earth did you manage it?”
“Oh, easily enough,” laughed the professor. “A magic lantern and a couple of slides did the whole business. The throwing of the pictures upon the smoke-wreath certainly enhanced its effectiveness a good deal, but it is quite an old trick, which I have often done before with excellent results. Everyone who is going much among savages ought to include a lantern and an assortment of good startling slides in his outfit if possible.”