“How?” asked Stedman.
“I feel as I used to do in the city, when the boys in the street were throwing snow-balls, and I had to go by with a high hat on my head and pretend not to know they were behind me. I always felt a cold chill down my spinal column, and I could feel that snow-ball, whether it came or not, right in the small of my back. And I can feel one of those men pulling his bow, now, and the arrow sticking out of my right shoulder.”
“Oh, no, you can’t,” said Stedman. “They are too afraid of those rifles. But I do feel sorry for any of those warriors whom old man Messenwah doesn’t like, now that he has that revolver. He isn’t the sort to practise on goats.”
There was great rejoicing when Stedman and Gordon told their story to the King, and the people learned they were not to have their huts burned and their cattle stolen. The armed Opekians formed a guard around the ambassadors and escorted them to their homes with cheers and shouts, and the women ran at their side and tried to kiss Gordon’s hand.
“I’m sorry I can’t speak the language, Stedman,” said Gordon, “or I would tell them what a brave man you are. You are too modest to do it yourself, even if I dictated something for you to say. As for me,” he said, pulling off his uniform, “I am thoroughly disgusted and disappointed. It never occurred to me until it was all over, that this was my chance to be a war correspondent. It wouldn’t have been much of a war, but then I would have been the only one on the spot, and that counts for a great deal. Still, my time may come.”
“We have a great deal on hand for to-morrow,” said Gordon that evening, “and we had better turn in early.”
And so the people were still singing and rejoicing down in the village, when the two conspirators for the peace of the country went to sleep for the night. It seemed to Gordon as though he had hardly turned his pillow twice to get the coolest side, when some one touched him, and he saw, by the light of the dozen glowworms in the tumbler by his bedside, a tall figure at its foot.
“It’s me—Bradley,” said the figure.
“Yes,” said Gordon, with the haste of a man to show that sleep has no hold on him; “exactly; what is it?”
“There is a ship of war in the harbor,” said Bradley, in a whisper. “I heard her anchor chains rattle when she came to, and that woke me. I could hear that if I were dead. And then I made sure by her lights; she’s a great boat, sir, and I can know she’s a ship of war by the challenging, when they change the watch. I thought you’d like to know, sir.”