Sibenga ignored the question.
"They have gone away," he observed, and in his heart he was thankful that they had, for the Germans were not particular in their methods of dealing with the natives.
"And better men have taken their places," rejoined Narfield. "Listen, Sibenga: were your watchers-by-night asleep between sunset and sunrise? Did they see a blaze of fire upon yonder mountain?"
The chief nodded.
"I caused that fire," proceeded Colonel Narfield. "Supposing that fire came down and ate up your kraal: where would your horses be then?"
For a moment Sibenga looked awe-stricken. He had reason to fear the white man's magic.
"What do you want my horses for?" he asked.
"To get back to my kraal," replied Colonel Narfield.
"It has been reported to me," said Sibenga slowly and deliberately, "that white men can fly higher and quicker than the mountain eagles. Let me see you do it, and then I will believe. You will not want horses, O white chief that went in a cart that smokes and came back without it. Spread your wings and fly."
"The old rascal hasn't kept his eyes shut," remarked Colonel Narfield to his companions. "He saw the car going to Tabora the day before yesterday, and apparently his watchers saw the old bus burning. At any rate, since we are on foot he thinks us very small beer. We can't point a rifle at the old bounder's head, because instructions have been given that the natives are to be treated with consideration—and Sibenga evidently knows that and regards it as a form of weakness. The District Magistrate, backed up by a full company of Haussas, would put the wind up the fellow, I guess."