“It would have been possible for the Narugas to kill them all off, but they didn’t do so; instead they allowed the chief to return to this village, where he rules his tribe as if he were independent, but in reality he is under control of the king of the Narugas.”
“I shall have to get acquainted with that chief,” thought Trim.
Aloud he said:
“Are the Bangwas peaceable toward white men?”
“Enough so,” was the reply. “They would make no resistance if we were passing down the river, but it’s just as well that they shouldn’t see us on land.
“If we stay in camp here through the night, we can pass their village early to-morrow morning on the rafts without attracting their attention.”
Trim nodded and turned away. He had learned enough to convince him that he ought to make an effort to see the Bangwas, for if they were under the control of the Narugas it was almost certain that some of the latter tribe would be in the village.
He said nothing to his companions about his thoughts, but after the camp was quiet for the night he cautiously left it alone and started along the bank of the river toward the distant village.
Before going he had taken the precaution to arrange his revolvers in his sleeves.
Usually when traveling in the wilderness, Trim did not carry his revolvers in this fashion, as they might have been in his way when it was necessary to do rough work.