“Aye, we know of none,” echoed the others in unison.
I began to feel both angry and uncomfortable, and showed it: but for the moment I was too puzzled to do more than stare at them each in turn. They looked straight before them as if their faces were so many stone jugs—they had about as much expression.
Again I addressed myself to Kaibnka.
“Why do ye make this pretence? Thou thyself, Kaibnka, and thou, Berau, were, with many others, in my house when his dead body lay on the floor. Why are ye all so silent? And whither have the girl Niâbon and Tematau gone?”
This time I got an answer—to my last question, at any rate.
“Niâbon and Tematau have gone across the lagoon in a canoe. They desired to talk with the white man's wife. In a little time, as darkness falls, they will return to thee.”
“Did they take the dead man with them, then?” I persisted.
The old fellow met my inquiring glance quite calmly. “I know of no dead man, Simi.”
I glared angrily at them all round, and then for a moment wondered if they were all crazy or I alone was wrong in my head. I was rising to my feet with an exclamation of anger at their obstinacy when the old bald-head motioned me to stay. Then at a sign from him all the others gathered up their impedimenta and quietly went off in Tarions directions, leaving us alone.
“Simi,” he said, coming swiftly over and crouching in front of me, “be wise. Ask no one of the white man who was here yesterday; for no one will tell thee but Niâbon. There is death in store for many, many people, if ye heed not my words. Go back to thy house, and be patient and wait, and ask naught of any one but Niâbon of what is past. Wouldst thou see this land soaked in blood because of one man?”