amb' Itam had reached the end of his journey. The fog had
delayed him a little, but he had paddled steadily, keeping in touch with
the south bank. By-and-by daylight came like a glow in a ground glass
globe. The shores made on each side of the river a dark smudge, in which
one could detect hints of columnar forms and shadows of twisted branches
high up. The mist was still thick on the water, but a good watch was
being kept, for as Iamb' Itam approached the camp the figures of two men
emerged out of the white vapour, and voices spoke to him boisterously.
He answered, and presently a canoe lay alongside, and he exchanged news
with the paddlers. All was well. The trouble was over. Then the men in
the canoe let go their grip on the side of his dug-out and incontinently
fell out of sight. He pursued his way till he heard voices coming to him
quietly over the water, and saw, under the now lifting, swirling mist,
the glow of many little fires burning on a sandy stretch, backed by
lofty thin timber and bushes. There again a look-out was kept, for he
was challenged. He shouted his name as the two last sweeps of his paddle
ran his canoe up on the strand. It was a big camp. Men crouched in many
little knots under a subdued murmur of early morning talk. Many thin
threads of smoke curled slowly on the white mist. Little shelters,
elevated above the ground, had been built for the chiefs. Muskets were
stacked in small pyramids, and long spears were stuck singly into the
sand near the fires.

'Tamb' Itam, assuming an air of importance, demanded to be led to Dain
Waris. He found the friend of his white lord lying on a raised couch
made of bamboo, and sheltered by a sort of shed of sticks covered with
mats. Dain Waris was awake, and a bright fire was burning before his
sleeping-place, which resembled a rude shrine. The only son of nakhoda
Doramin answered his greeting kindly. Tamb' Itam began by handing him
the ring which vouched for the truth of the messenger's words. Dain
Waris, reclining on his elbow, bade him speak and tell all the news.
Beginning with the consecrated formula, "The news is good," Tamb' Itam
delivered Jim's own words. The white men, deputing with the consent of
all the chiefs, were to be allowed to pass down the river. In answer to
a question or two Tamb' Itam then reported the proceedings of the last
council. Dain Waris listened attentively to the end, toying with the
ring which ultimately he slipped on the forefinger