John led the men among some trees, and waited until he saw the gate opened, and a number of women come out and wend their way into the plantations to the left. When they were out of sight, he ordered the men to leave their loads and follow him closely without a sound. Then, regardless of his pain, he led the way at a steady run up the hill. Ferrier came to his side.
"We do this together, old boy," he said.
On they went. They had almost reached the stockade when a woman in the fields to the left saw them, and uttered a loud shriek. John quickened his pace; the men, unable to restrain themselves any longer, raised their voices in a tremendous shout. A few seconds later the whole party, the white men still leading, dashed through the gate, and along the single street, causing a wild stampede among the children playing there, and the women who were moving about. The uproar drew several men from their huts, where they were no doubt indulging themselves in a final nap while their womenkind prepared breakfast. Almost all were old men. At the sight of the invading horde they yelled and fled. John hurried on towards the compound where he had seen the war-party assemble. As the scared negroes left the street vacant, he was struck with amazement at the sight that met his eyes. At the entrance of a hut at one side of the central space stood a figure in white. He had risen from bending over a cooking-pot. Next moment Said Mohammed came towards his master, walking leisurely, his face beaming with smiles.
"Good morning, sir," he said blithely. "You have come in nick of time. Banana fritters, new dish to savage with untutored mind, are done to a turn. On point of tickling unappreciative palates, they now serve nobler end, delectating connoisseur who knows what's what. With respect, sir, I'm jolly glad to see you."
Thus the village of the "bad men" was carried without a blow.
John sent Coja back with a few men to bring in the loads and secure the gate. Then he lost no time in hunting through the village, and learnt, as he had hoped, that there were very few men left in it; and these for the most part old and negligible as a fighting force. He had given strict orders to his party not to injure any one wantonly. The women, seeing that there was no burning or slaughtering, recovered from their first fright. They recognized the prisoner in whom they had been so much interested, and their curiosity overcoming every other feeling, they drew slowly nearer to the strangers, uttering little shrieks of excitement. John made them understand that the men were hungry, and they ran with alacrity into their huts, not at all averse from preparing a meal for such inoffensive visitors. Meanwhile Said Mohammed had instantly seized his own cooking-pot and other utensils from the men who carried them, and set to work to cook more banana fritters and other dainties to which the white men had been strangers for many a day. Before long the whole party were seated, enjoying a capital breakfast, the men laughing and chattering like light-hearted children. In the midst of the repast they broke into song, one of them chanting a line of solo, the rest chiming in with a boisterous chorus.
(Solo) Where did the white men go in the night?
(Chorus) They went to the place of the bad men.
(Solo) Why did they go to the place of the bad men?
(Chorus) To get very much food
For themselves and the good men.
The white men must eat,
The black men must eat,
In the place of the bad men is very much food,
O, eat all the food of the bad men.
John smiled rather wistfully as he translated the song to Ferrier.
"Poor devils!" he said. "They don't think of what they may have to go through before they get home. Just like children.... We thought we'd never see you again, khansaman. What became of you?"
"Sir, I will round unvarnished tale deliver. Crossing stream, a thousand horse-leeches take fancy to my nether extremities, and cling like grim death. I make saltatory gyrations to shunt obnoxious hangers-on, when lo! enter crocodile, without introduction, his room better than his company. I was in blue funk, sir, and scooted, with celerity and splash. In agitation of moment I forgot my pals, and when I look round, behold! they are no more. I call: no answer; I call again: silence that can be felt. You could hear a pin drop. In the charming words of the handsome but afflicted Lord Byron--