In the center of the largest room stood a platform covered with a cloth of scarlet and gold, and on this was a great carved chair that doubtless served Japazy as a throne. Bomba could figure the half-breed sitting there, stern and commanding, clothed in gorgeous raiment the better to emphasize the distance between him and his dependents who bowed cringingly before him.
Abino seemed to realize what Bomba was thinking, and he answered the unspoken question.
“It is from here that Japazy rules his people,” said Abino in tones of reverence. “Here he speaks the words that mean life or death. It is here that the stranger will stand when he is brought in to where Japazy waits to hear him.”
Words that mean life or death! Which of the two would they mean to him, Bomba wondered.
“Come,” said Abino, “and Abino will show you the place where you are to stay.”
He led him to a room at some distance from that large central hall and motioned him to enter.
In contrast to the other room, it was very simply and plainly furnished. Still, it was in the style of the white people, with chairs and table, a rug on the floor and a bed with a mattress, sheets and coverings.
Bomba felt strange and abashed. He had never sat on a chair, never slept in a bed. But he restrained his feelings in the presence of Abino. After all, he was white, and his heart swelled at the thought. This would be his chance to do as white folks did, sit on a chair, sleep in a bed, try to imagine by so doing that he was getting a little closer to his own people for whom his heart yearned. When he did find them he did not want to have them ashamed of him.
“It is in this room that people stay who come from afar to have talk with Japazy,” Abino remarked. “Some of them, after he has heard their words, go away again. But some do not go away.”
The last words had an ominous ring and were not calculated to add to Bomba’s peace of mind. But he gave no sign, and a look of admiration that the native could not repress came into Abino’s eyes.