sullen and
scowling looks, and the almost significant gestures wherewith they
handled their rifles.

"What do they want, Lutali?" said Hazon, turning to the Arab who, with
Holmes, had just joined the pair. But Lutali shrugged his shoulders, and
his hawk-like features scarce moved. Then he said:

"Who may think to strive against the hand of Allah and that of his
Prophet? Yon foul dogs, even they--so great is the mercy of Allah--even
they might have been turned into good Moslemia, even as other such have
been before them. Yet we--we have left them to wallow in the mire of
their cannibal abominations. Our people are not satisfied, El Khanac,
and they fear that ill may come of it."

"A magnificent and comfortable hypocrisy that," said Laurence, in
English. "Such combination of soul-saving and slave-selling is unique."
Then, in Swahili, "But what do they want, Lutali?"

"They want to set right the error of yesterday."

"But the Wangoni don't care a grain of rice for Allah and his Prophet,"
he went on. "Why, then, are _they_ dissatisfied?"

"They are instruments in the hands of those who do. It is so written.
Allah is great. Who may call in question his decrees?" replied the Arab,
in the same level monotone. "Let the people do their will, which is also
the will of Allah."

During this conversation the whole party had halted, and now stood in a
great semicircle around the white leaders. Then Mashumbwe spoke, and his
words, though fairly courteous, managed to cover an extremely defiant
tone.

"Our people are dissatisfied, father," he said, addressing Hazon. "They
desire to return home."

"Wherefore?" asked Hazon shortly.

"_Au!_ they came forth to 'eat up' other tribes, not to spare such. They
are dissatisfied."

"They'd better have their own way," muttered Hazon, in English. "You are
sacrificing all we have done and obtained this trip to an empty whim.
How does that pan out, Stanninghame?"

"I hate to go back on my word," was the reply; "still more to be bullied
into it."

"Well said!" declared Holmes warmly.

The insurgents, reading the expression upon the countenances of these
two, broke forth into tumult once more. Groans and mutterings arose
among the Arab contingent, while the Wangoni uttered wild laughing
whoops of defiance. Nothing would be easier than to slay the white
leaders. A single volley would lay them low. The position was critical,
perilous to a degree.

"We go, then," cried Mashumbwe, wavi