“How!” said the leader, approaching them.
Bracknell replied to the salutation, and the man spoke to his companions who drew nearer, apparently quite friendly disposed to them. Then came a change. One of the men stepped forward, looked at the white man, and gave a sudden exclamation. Then he turned towards his companions and addressed them volubly. Joy strove to catch what he was saying, but the dialect in which he spoke was strange to her, and she could make nothing of his words. It was clear to her, however, that the man was excited, and as he spoke the excitement communicated itself to his companions. Joy looked at Dick Bracknell for an explanation, and found that his face was very white.
“What is it?” she asked quickly. “Something has gone wrong?”
“Yes, terribly wrong. These men will be merciless. I have done you my last dis-service.”
“What do you mean?” she questioned, as she looked at the gesticulating natives.
“I did this tribe a grave wrong, two years ago. One of the men has recognized me, and I think there is little hope for us. We might put up a fight, but it would probably be little use, and would certainly jeopardize your life as well as mine. If they get me, they may let you go. It is worth trying. I will explain and perhaps——” He broke off and took a step forward.
“What are you going to do?” inquired Joy sharply.
“Just going to try what a little explanation will do,” he answered, “a little explanation coupled with persuasion.”
“No!” she replied quickly. “You are going to make a bargain with those men. I know you are, and I shall not agree. We stand or fall together.”
“Do you think you are wise?” he asked.