y fate. Kua-ko was also away. The others sat or stood
about the great room, staring at me in silence. I took no notice, but
merely asked for food, then for my hammock, which I hung up in the old
place, and lying down I fell into a doze. Runi made his appearance at
dusk. I rose and greeted him, but he spoke no word and, until he went to
his hammock, sat in sullen silence, ignoring my presence.

On the following day the crisis came. We were once more gathered in the
room--all but Kua-ko and another of the men, who had not yet returned
from some expedition--and for the space of half an hour not a word
was spoken by anyone. Something was expected; even the children were
strangely still, and whenever one of the pet birds strayed in at the
open door, uttering a little plaintive note, it was chased out again,
but without a sound. At length Runi straightened himself on his seat and
fixed his eyes on me; then cleared his throat and began a long harangue,
delivered in the loud, monotonous singsong which I knew so well and
which meant that the occasion was an important one. And as is usual
in such efforts, the same thought and expressions were used again and
again, and yet again, with dull, angry insistence. The orator of Guayana
to be impressive must be long, however little he may have to say.
Strange as it may seem, I listened critically to him, not without a
feeling of scorn at his lower intelligence. But I was easier in my mind
now. From the very fact of his addressing such a speech to me I was
convinced that he wished not to take my life, and would not do so if I
could clear myself of the suspicion of treachery.

I was a white man, he said, they were Indians; nevertheless they had
treated me well. They had fed me and sheltered me. They had done a
great deal for me: they had taught me the use of the zabatana, and had
promised to make one for me, asking for nothing in return. They had also
promised me a wife. How had I treated them? I had deserted them, going
away secretly to a distance, leaving them in doubt as to my intentions.
How could they tell why I had gone, and where? They had an enemy. Managa
was his name; he and his people hated them; I knew that he wished them
evil; I knew where to find him, for they had told me. That was what they
thought when I suddenly left them. Now I returned to them, saying that
I had been to Riolama. He knew where Riolama was, although he had never
been there: it was so far. Why did I go to Ri