“No; at least not yet. We could do that only as a last resort. It would rout them in terror, but they would come back. There are many thousands of them, you know. If gaining a few hours’ or days’ time alone would help us, I should be in favor of standing them off with the guns. But that would be of no use whatever to us. As you suggested, we need their help, and the way to get it is to play on their superstitious natures and put them to work. It seems like a flimsy bulwark right now that the mob is bearing down on us; but let’s try it and trust to luck. I will do the parleying and you supervise the work when the time comes. I can see no other way out of it.”
“Nor I,” Ted agreed.
The Indians had halted while still some distance away and were obviously holding a discussion as to whether or not they should advance. A few minutes later they again started forward, then stopped for a second conference. This time they reached a definite conclusion, for they now approached in an unfaltering manner.
Ted and Stanley put on their helmets and goggles and, at least to outward appearances, calmly awaited the coming of the mob. When the Indians had reached a point a hundred feet from the airplane they stopped.
Two files of soldiers stepped forward, halted, and turned to face one another, forming a wide lane. Scarcely had they taken their station when a procession began to advance through this formation. Ted and Stanley watched with pounding hearts and bated breath.
First came a group of menials sweeping the ground with branches of evergreens; then a number of officers or high officials garbed in brilliant robes and bearing various insignia of rank in their hands, such as silver staffs and bundles of rods. Following these, several score of youths, walking backward and singing in a monotonous cadence, strewed the ground with flowers.
A sedan of gold borne on the shoulders of twenty-five of the highest nobles came next. The curtains, heavily embroidered in colors and threads of gold, were drawn so that the occupant of the conveyance could not be seen.
When the men who carried the precious burden reached the end of the lane formed by the soldiers they halted and lowered the fitter to the level of their knees. The curtains were drawn aside and an elderly man wrapped in a mantle of black-and-white and wearing numerous amulets, bracelets, and anklets stepped out upon the rug that had been spread on the ground for him and stood with outstretched hands. Apparently he belonged to the religious order, or perhaps he was a witch-doctor, for he made mysterious passes with his hands and shook a rattle of dried seeds. After a moment he came forward a dozen paces, bowed to the ground, and throwing one corner of his mantle over his shoulder in an impressive manner, spoke.
“Benevolent spirits, demons or men,” he began in a loud voice, “I know not which you may be, so know not how to receive you.”
“And who are you who dares question us?” Stanley returned, pitting his own strategy against the Indian’s.