“Come,” he said.
They accepted the invitation and climbed out of the machine.
“Don’t be long, Nux,” I remarked, in the Tayakoo dialect.
Instantly the chief swung around on his heel.
“What does this mean?” he cried, speaking the same language. “Do you receive orders from your white slaves?”
I stared at him open mouthed, but to my intense admiration neither Nux nor Bryonia exhibited the least surprise.
“Orders?” asked Bry, quietly. “Do you blame us that the whites are fools, and speak like fools? My brother has surely more wisdom than that. If you knew the white dogs, you would believe that their tongues are like the tongues of parrots.”
“I know them,” answered Ogo, grimly. Then he asked, abruptly:
“Where did you learn the language of my people—the ancient speech of the Techlas?”
“It is my own language, the speech of my people of Tayakoo, whose chief I am.”