"That's done it," ejaculated Tiny.
"He certainly looked surprised," admitted Colin. "But I don't suppose there's any harm done. Let's start grub. It smells delicious, and I'm on the verge of starvation."
The chums set-to with avidity, for ten hours had elapsed since they had last eaten. The meal justified the appetising odour, the only drawback being that there were no knives and forks provided, and only two wooden utensils resembling small shovels. However, by the aid of their own knives Colin and Tiny made up for the deficiencies and thoroughly enjoyed the repast.
"Now," remarked Desmond, after the meal. "What's the programme?"
"Goodness knows," replied Colin. "If we could only let Colonel Narfield know we're all right I wouldn't mind a scrap. These fellows are an interesting sort; except for the preliminary canter, they've treated us jolly well; the food's good, our surroundings are clean, and the air's simply topping. I could do with a month of this."
"That's all very well," admitted Desmond, "You said we were all right; are we?"
"It certainly looks like it," said Colin. "And we are on the eve of a discovery. We've fallen in with a highly-civilised tribe. With the exception of our Mr. Van der Wyck," (Colin always termed his former cabin mate "our" Mr. Van der Wyck to distinguish him from the old farmer) "no one seems to have come in contact with them. I suppose I'm right in saying these fellows are the Makoh'lenga? What a story we'll have to tell when we get back to Kilembonga."
"If we do," interposed the pessimistic Tiny.
"Why if?" asked Sinclair. "They surely don't mean to keep us here for ever. And if they meant us harm they would have knocked us on the head and not troubled to swot up here with us."
"That's all very well," conceded Desmond. "Did you ever read about the Aztecs?"