"Go and see who they are, Mwesa," said Tom. "They are not to come across the clearing until I know what they want."
Presently Mwesa returned, smiling with even more enjoyment than usual.
"Him M'setu, sah," he said: "come for talk with sah."
"Very well. Bring him along; he can come in with six of his men: the rest remain outside."
Mwesa ran back into the forest, and soon reappeared at the side of a powerful negro of middle age. A throng of negroes about a hundred strong followed him to the edge of the clearing. There at his order they squatted in a long line, and the chief himself, accompanied by his son and five other men--three of whom led milk-white goats bleating dolefully--marched at Mwesa's heels towards the gate, where Tom stood waiting.
"Him M'setu, sah," said Mwesa, by way of introduction.
Tom at once stepped forward and grasped the chief by the hand, an act which brought a smile of pleasure to the face of his six companions and a shout from the men watching intently two hundred yards away.
M'setu began to speak. After one sentence he paused, looking to Mwesa to interpret.
"Him say sah him fader and mudder," said Mwesa.
Tom acknowledged the compliment with a smile.