A crafty light came into Thurwinker's eyes. They bargained for half an hour at the end of which time Goma agreed to give up a very small plot of ground in addition to the crater. It wasn't much, but it was something and Thurwinker accepted.
They arose and walked silently out of the hut. The miners gave the pair curious glances as they strolled up the street. When they reached the barber shop, they found a crowd of natives numbering about one hundred, men, women and children. Goma drew up in front of them imperiously. He stared at them for a full minute and then struck his shoulder with a closed fist in a gesture of bravado. The crowd watched him as he marched up to the barber chair and sat down.
Goma turned to Roy and held up his hand making the cutting motion.
Roy looked at Thurwinker. "Is it all right?"
"Yes, yes indeed! The Chief isn't afraid any more. Go ahead, Roy, but be careful. Yes indeed, very careful!"
Roy cautiously combed out a few strands of hair and holding them gingerly in his hand, he snipped. A groan escaped from between Goma's clenched teeth. Roy hesitated but Goma held up his hand again, making cutting motions. Roy selected a few more strands of hair. As he cut, Goma's breath hissed in sharply and his hands clutched the sides of the chair. On the third cut, Goma's body relaxed and his eyes closed.
Thurwinker rushed to his side. He looked at him for a minute and then ran to the door. "Quick," he said to one of the miners. "Get Dr. Bowen!"
The natives outside began to mutter angrily. Thurwinker dashed back to the barber chair. "Go ahead," he hissed. "Keep cutting! Don't let the natives think anything's gone wrong!"
By the time Dr. Bowen arrived, Goma's hair was neatly trimmed. The Chief was still apparently unconscious and breathing heavily. Dr. Bowen made a hasty examination and then straightened smiling. "It's all right," he said to Thurwinker. "He's only fainted."