"No, sah; no Juma to-day, sah," said Coja. "Him berry much 'fraid to come heah, 'cause of Lulu, sah. Him show him face, ha! ha! she give him what for, sah."
"Go and get your supper."
John spoke irritably. Normally good-tempered, he was now unlike himself.
"And I might have guessed it if I had any gumption," he said to Ferrier. "Juma took advantage of the sheep straying to run off with our rifles before, and it didn't require much ingenuity to invent the ruse."
"Cheer up, old chap. You'll feel better when you've had some grub. It's very sickening, but as you say, I don't see what we can do."
It was now quite dark, and they ate their supper in silence. Even Said Mohammed's excellent cookery could not overcome John's furious disgust at having been tricked. When the Bengali brought in an omelet he said--
"A thousand and one pardons, sir. The wanderer, videlicet Wanderobbo, has returned, and asks for honour of confab."
"Bring him in, and fetch Coja; it takes too long to understand Bill without him."
Bill had come to report that he had followed up the raiders for several miles to the north. They had robbed the villagers of all their foodstuffs, and all the "trade" which they had received as wages for their work on the farm, and then marched directly northward, coming after a few miles to an encampment where they were presently joined by a smaller party from the west. When he came to this part of his story Bill grew much excited. In the leader of the smaller party he recognized one of the safari which years before had attacked his village, killed his people, and plundered their store of ivory--the ivory which by rights belonged to him, and which he would yet recover.
"But that's nonsense," said John. "If these people seized his ivory years ago, it has all been sold long before this."