“No,” said Mort.
“Nor can’t get any,” said Henry. “’Cause the chief won’t see us.”
“We don’t understand his language, what little he uses,” Mort added.
“And neither will you!” Henry stated flatly.
The Indian who was conducting them beckoned curtly. “Well, we haven’t gotten anywhere,” Mort said. “So, go ahead to your hut and rest. We can talk later.”
The Indian conducted the chums to another hut. At the time they wondered why the five white people were not put together. However, the reason was soon to be discovered.
They made the best of things. Their movements were not restricted any more than in the smaller village. The same sort of general food-pots were in evidence, into which everything that was to be cooked was dropped, the resulting stew being dished out with calabashes as it was required.
There were a number of Albinos, or light-faced, light-haired, pale-eyed people, among the Indians, and no one seemed to have much use for them. They kept a good deal to themselves.
Hammocks were provided for sleeping and rest, and several women brought food at intervals. For the balance of that day the chums were left alone. But when they tried to go over to talk further with Henry and later, when Mort came to see them, Indians firmly intervened and refused to let the two parties communicate.
“Now why is that, do you suppose?” Cliff asked.