For a little while the British officer and the British newspaper correspondent could do nothing but stand off to look at each other, and then embrace again as though it were hard to believe that it was not all a dream.
The Arabs and negroes had drawn to one side, and the big savage was wrathfully inspecting the body of the leopard.
"Come," said Melton, plucking Guy's arm, "we will find a quiet place where we can talk in peace."
The crowd made way for them, but before they had taken half a dozen steps the big Arab staggered forward and seized Guy by the hand.
"You brave man," he cried. "Makar never forget."
He kept on with many protestations of gratitude until Guy tried to withdraw in embarrassment.
"Wait," said the Arab. "Come along. Me tell you something."
He fairly dragged Guy back to the entrance of the tent where none could hear, and bending low he whispered in his ear:
"Berbera no place for Inglis man this day. Better go away, quick. Heed what Makar tell you. Now go."
He fairly pushed Guy from him, and the latter, joining Melton, who had witnessed the scene with the greatest curiosity, led the way out into the street.