"What for, sah! Has he not made big puddle in massa's canoe? He plenty much wet, sah."
"Well, he couldn't help that. Tell him we're glad he came off so well. You need not say anything about the puddle."
But Nando had his own views as to the proper thing to do. As he spoke the chief glanced at the pool of water that had flowed from his body, and replied in a tone that was clearly apologetic.
"He say he die with shame him so wet, sah," said Nando. "Him no do it no more. Say he praise de young Inglesa for shooting de hippo; say he gib massa de hippo and manioc and bananas and anyfing whatever dat massa like. Say he want massa and young massa to be blood brudder. Me say berrah good; tell him oughter had sense before."
"That's all right. We'll accept supplies with pleasure, and pay for them. The hippo is Mr. Jack's already, of course. As for becoming his blood brothers, I don't just know right off what that means; but if it'll please him, and doesn't mean any nastiness, we'll think it over."
The canoe, towing Mr. Martindale's hippo, was rapidly paddled down stream to the encampment, the second beast being left to drift slowly down the river until, in the course of some hours, it should finally rise to the surface. On landing the chief renewed his protestations of gratitude, then went off to the village, to polish himself up, said Nando, and replace his ruined headdress, a curious structure of cloth and feathers stuck on to the chignon into which his hair was gathered. Mr. Martindale sent back another canoe to find and tow down the dead hippo. When it was hauled up on the low sandy bank, Jack and his uncle went down to examine it.
"You said I missed, uncle," cried Jack. "What do you make of this?"
He pointed to a furrow ploughed across the full breadth of the beast's forehead.
"Nothing but a bullet did that, I know. My shot must have hit him, but didn't enter the skull. I suppose he hid in the reeds, and vented his fury on the chief. He happened to have a harder skull than your hippo, uncle; you see it was a fluke after all."
Mr. Martindale slowly cut and lighted a cigar. Not until he had watched a big cloud of smoke float across the river did he speak. Then he said quietly—