“When we get to England, lad,” he cried, “I’ll have the humane society give ee a brass medal for kindness to animals.”
“I’d be proud of it,” retorted Trim, as he leaped across to his own raft.
On the evening of that day they went into camp at a place where the river was broad and where there was level land on each bank.
During the most of the journey they had been floating between rugged mountains, and for many a mile they would[Pg 15] have found it difficult to make a landing.
Some distance down the river Trim saw smoke rising. One of his native employees told him that there was a village there, and that the people who lived in it had been beaten in war by the Narugas.
“The Narugas must be near by, then,” remarked Trim.
“Yes,” replied the black man, “they’re not very far away; in fact, you might call this their land.”
“How so?”
“Because the tribe that live here, the Bangwas, are now under the power of the Narugas.
“The Bangwas once upon a time were a powerful tribe, but there are not many of them left now, and when they made war on the Narugas a few years ago, they were badly beaten.