Trentham offered to relieve the chief of anxiety by quitting the place with his companions, but this suggestion only increased his distress, and it dawned upon Trentham that he was inclined to cling to the white men as upholders of his feebleness. How feeble he was became apparent before Trentham left the house. A number of the Papuans came to the outer gate and demanded an interview with their new chief. On being admitted, their spokesman recounted the disasters that had befallen the tribe since the strangers came, and insisted on the two younger men being given to them for a cannibal feast. Was it not the custom, they asked, within the memory of the elder men, for a sacrifice to be made on the death of a chief? The victims were at hand. As for the fat man who bore the totem mark on his shoulder, they must spare him, but being a white man he must be sent away; let him go into the forest.
The chief was on the point of yielding, in the hope of gaining popularity with his unruly subjects, when one of the elder patricians interposed. The late chief had spared the white men, he said; they were friends of Flanso, who would rightfully have succeeded his father; and if Flanso returned he would certainly vent his wrath on any one who did them harm. This firm stand on the part of a man of weight caused the unstable chief to veer. With an effort to assume a firm and dignified attitude he dismissed the deputation, who retired in undisguised dissatisfaction and anger.
It was only after they had departed that Trentham learnt from the interpreter what their object had been, and how their request had been received. Watching the scene intently, he had noted the indecision of the chief and the mischief that blazed in the eyes of the Papuans.
'I 'm afraid there 's trouble brewing,' he said on returning to his hut. 'The new chief's a man of straw; he 'll give way to the cannibals one of these times, and then----'
'I guess we won't wait for that,' said Hoole. 'We should be no worse off in the forest, and I vote we clear out one dark night and take our chance.'
'What about Ephraim, sir?' asked Grinson. 'I say nothing about you two gentlemen, but only speak for myself, and I swear I won't leave these 'ere parts without Ephraim.'
'Sure,' said Hoole. 'I 'm with you all the time. But you 'll allow it requires a little consideration, Grinson, and my proposition is that we all put on our thinking caps and see if we can hit on one of those cunning plots you read of in story-books. I only wish I had a pipe. Smoke clears the air.'
Trentham smiled; Grinson opened his tobacco-box.
'Chewing won't do the trick, I suppose, sir,' he said. 'I 've enough twist for two quids.'
'No, no; I 've never chewed anything hotter than gum,' said Hoole. 'Keep your baccy, man. I say, it's time for our supper. They 're late this evening. Do they keep a fast after a funeral?'