The boy watched them for a moment wondering what they would do and was about to start on again when he saw all the savages turn their heads toward the further side of the fire.
Immediately after that they all knelt and a moment later a man came striding into view, who in spite of the darkness Trim recognized as a white man.
“Ah!” thought Trim. “Perhaps I shall learn something here, after all.”
The white man spoke in a loud voice so that Trim caught his words.
“What was that shot?” he said.
Trim then saw the king and the interpreter approach the white man and answer him.
Their words could not be distinguished, and when the white man spoke again he lowered his voice.
Trim could see that the white man made a quick movement of surprise, and turned his head in the direction of the river.
“I’ll bet a string of glass beads, old chap,” said Trim to himself, “that you’re wondering who I am and where I am.
“Great Scott! Suppose this fellow should be King Mulvey himself! What a snap it would be to disable him with just one little pistol shot and run him back to Kimberley as a prisoner.