The taunts, even more than the arguments, of the Portuguese had roused the cruelty in the Arab's nature.
"Do as you like with him," he said impulsively. "It will teach them a lesson. I can trust you, no doubt, señor," he went on with a half-sneer, "not to let him off too easily. As for me, I have no taste for butchering curs; I prefer to employ others."
The Portuguese glared for an instant, but, too glad to get the long-coveted prey into his own hands, he pocketed the affront.
"So be it. To-morrow's sun will see what shall be done with him. Meanwhile, haul the dog from his kennel. Why give him a comfortable hut? Treat him like the rest."
The chief nodded. The Portuguese went to the door and called in three of the usual guard of six.
"Here, men," he said, "the chief orders you to remove this prisoner. Take him and tie him to yonder tree, and see to it that he does not escape."
As the men approached, Tom sprang to his feet and prepared to resist any handling by the Arabs. At this moment the hakim, who had stood in a corner of the hut, came forward and spoke a few words in the chief's ear. But they seemed only to strengthen the Arab's resolve. He bluntly told the physician to mind his own business,--that his intervention was vain. By this time Tom saw that resistance was hopeless; a struggle would probably end in his being butchered; and while there was life there was hope. He suffered himself to be led out. The Portuguese himself superintended the tying-up, the tree being the stout acacia shading the chief's hut. Eight men were set to watch the prisoner during the rest of the night, and with a look of malignant satisfaction in his evil face, the Portuguese, no longer suspected or distrusted, repaired, a free man, to his own quarters.
CHAPTER IX: Gone Away!
Through the Net--A Call in Passing--A Chase in the Dark--On the Track--Signals--The Little People--Ka-lu-ké-ke--Visions of the Night
It was desperately cold. Since he had left Kisumu, Tom had spent every night under a blanket, and, standing now with his back to the tree, a rope about his waist, another about his legs, a third tying his arms, he had nothing to defend him from the keen air but the clothes he stood in, and was unable to gain warmth by movement. He chafed under this bitter constraint; tried the strength of the ropes by straining at them with all his might; gave up the effort in sheer impotence, and wondered whether he should live to see another dawn.