beyond,
and the father of waters beyond that." The spokesman stepped
forward. "Greeting from the great black one, the river-wolf--he who
met the wild man of the woods alone; he who crept in at the gate and
slew the man-hunters; he the chief Muata. Greeting to the lion-
killer, the cleaver of heads, the maker of plans, who came out of
the mist in a shining boat. Greeting to the young lions who slew the
tree-lion."

"What is your word?"

"The great chief awaits at the war council."

"Go down and tell your chief we will descend when we have made war
medicine."

"Wow!" The spokesman fell back into the ranks. The seven warriors
stood for a time in silence; then, at a word from the spokesman,
they went through a salute, turned, and marched back in single file,
chanting a war song as they went, as an accompaniment to a dancing
stride.

"What is the war medicine we are to make, sir?"

"Just the remains of our breakfast and supper, with a dose of
quinine to finish up."

"And those chaps will be telling the people down below that we are
making strong medicine, warranted to kill Hassan at sight, and ward
off spears, bullets, mosquitoes, and Arab swords."

"Well, it will give them courage, if they think all that," said Mr.
Hume, coolly, as he inspected the rations.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE FIGHT IN THE DEFILE

In the afternoon, having hidden away the reserve ammunition, they at
last went down to the war council assembled under the tree in the
village. Mindful of the instructions of Mr. Hume, the two boys were
quite self-possessed and incurious, though it was a great effort to
restrain expressions of surprise when they were face to face with
Muata.

If they were under the necessity to play a part, so in a greater
measure was he. The men about him were a mixed lot--of adventurers
who had been compelled to seek a harbourage from revengeful enemies,
of fugitives who had escaped from the slave gangs--and they were of
several tribes. Only a strong hand could keep them in order, and
Muata could not afford for a moment to sacrifice his authority. He
was master in that valley, or nothing. Hence he received the
greeting of his old white friends without a sign of cordiality.

His naturally fine face was hideous in war-paint, two lines of
yellow extending to his ears from the comers of his mouth, and
another black line running from the centre of the forehead down
between the eyes. Two long black feathers were secured in his