"I will make Boy Scouts of some of them," said Challis to himself as he viewed them.
The chief led him in and out among the crowd of warriors, pointing to one man as a famous hunter, to another as a mighty thrower of the spear, to a third whose body was scarred with wounds received in fight. He was evidently proud of his men.
"Let the white man take them at once," he said, John interpreting. "They are well fed; they have eaten the flesh of oxen; they are ready even now to follow the killer of lions."
He was as much astonished as disappointed when Challis explained, as tactfully as he could, that he did not yet consider them ready to accompany him back to the fort.
"What more does the white man need?" he asked, somewhat huffily.
Challis reflected for a few moments before replying. He did not quite know how to deal with these ignorant natives, so prompt to take offence and sulk like children. But he was clear in his own mind.
To render effective service against experienced warriors like the Tubus, dashing horsemen armed with guns, accustomed to carry all before them in a wild charge, something more than muscle and goodwill was required.
It was plain that these natives were wholly undisciplined. Challis felt sure that in battle every man acted for himself, without any relation to his comrades, and he had already resolved that they must undergo some sort of elementary training before they could be of any real use.
The matter that worried him was the shortness of time. Royce's provisions might be eked out over a fortnight—what could be done in a fortnight towards training these wild, untutored children of nature?
"You know the Tubus, chief," he said, making up his mind to be frank. "Your people have suffered at their hands—even now you have fled from them. They have horses and guns—you know how helpless your best warriors have been before them. We must change all that. Your men must learn how to fight in such a way that the Tubus' advantages over them are lessened."