"Not yet," said Tom: "we are not quite ready."
The servant smiled, started as he saw the revolver in Tom's hand, then backed hurriedly.
"Remain in the kitchen till I call," added Tom. "Now, Herr Reinecke, you will precede me--I am not bluffing--to the place where my men are hidden. I don't wish to kill your askaris, but any madness on your part will provoke a volley from my men. It will avoid trouble, then, if you order yours to pile arms. Remember this revolver. If you make a mistake in the word of command it will be fatal to you as to them. Lead on."
The German turned without a word. Outside, the askaris were standing at ease: Yakoub, the native clerk, had just finished checking off the porter's loads. Reinecke ordered the askaris, in a voice unlike his own, to pile arms and reassemble two deep. At Tom's bidding he told Yakoub to go to his hut and remain there. A call from Tom brought Mwesa bounding from behind a shrub.
"Get the men to collect these arms," said Tom.
The negroes came from their hiding place and seized upon the askaris' rifles. The amazed porters, standing by their loads, broke out into eager questioning, and the replies set them shouting, laughing, leaping with glee. The askaris, equally astonished, looked in a puzzled way from Reinecke to Tom, and made no resistance when the Wahehe were ordered to tie their hands behind their backs. Reinecke, standing within a yard of Tom, gnawed his moustache in impotent rage.
"Keep these men under guard," said Tom, and Mwesa summoned forth the concealed riflemen. "Now, Herr Reinecke, you shall have your dinner. Make the most of it. It will be a long time before you get such a meal again."
[CHAPTER IX--A DELAYING ACTION]
Damocles, at the sumptuous banquet of Dionysius of Syracuse, no doubt ate with a very good appetite, for Dionysius was his friend, and the sword hanging over his head at the end of a single hair was merely a playful illustration of the insecurity of princes, and no object of fear. It may be supposed that the Greek, sitting within reach of the weapon held by a resolute hand, would have found the dishes offered him savourless, or his throat perhaps too dry for degustation. Curt Reinecke, however, was a German. He flashed one evil look at the tall, grim young man who sat, grasping a revolver, across the corner of a table opposite; then he bent his eyes upon his plate, and applied himself with customary ardour to the appeasement of nature's cravings. The servant went to and fro, silent, scared.
"Get ready to come with me, Mirami--you and the rest," said Tom when the man had brought coffee. "Light all the lanterns you have."