'You ain't half a bad-looking chap, Flanso, and if you 'd take that stick out of your nose and learn to wash yourself you 'd be quite handsome. 'Tis a strange world, and no mistake. There 's my Ephraim, a good lad as cleans hisself regular like a true Christian, and speaks English as well as I does myself, but nobody could say he 's a beauty; and then there 's you--'orrible dirty, speaks like a monkey, and yet got a face on you as would make your fortune if so be you went into the Guards.
'Things is arranged very rum, Flanso, and there 's no understanding of 'em. Them two Germans, now--they 're pretty enough with their blue eyes and flaxen hair, just the sort the girls go silly over; but their 'earts, Flanso--their 'earts is blacker than you, old man. Yet I don't know--p'r'aps--but what's the good o' spekylatin'? Things is a puzzle, and we ain't got the brains for to work it out.'
He shook his head, and fell into a reverie from which he was suddenly awakened by a distant rifle shot. Instantly he became the man of action again. He swung round, signed to the natives to halt, and put his fingers to his lips enjoining silence. Then he hastened down the line until he had discovered Lafoa.
'Here, you!' he said. 'You makee all fellas hold their jaw and come bunko arter me, see? Bad fellas fightee; we go see what's up. See?'
The interpreter nodded, and hurried to Flanso, who gave orders in his own tongue. It was clear that he looked to Grinson for leadership. More shots rang out ahead.
'That's a revolver,' murmured Grinson. 'Mr. Trentham! Spears. Bows and arrows.' He looked round at the natives. 'May be some good. Fust thing is to find out exactly what's what. Here, you, how far off--how muchee way--your village?'
The interpreter did not understand him. Grinson groaned.
'Well, makee all black fellas hidee in bushes, so no one can see. Savvy?'
This appeared clear, for the natives, at a word from Lafoa, scattered, and in a few moments were invisible.
'Now come alonga me,' continued Grinson. 'Flanso too. Come on!'