ho looked half terrified.
Were they cannibals these people? he wondered, with a sinking
heart.

He forced himself to his feet, and stood shaking a second, then
dropped on his knees. The performance seemed to amuse the gaping
group--the younger men and women laughed, the children clapped
their hands.

Eustace was wondering drearily how long they would stand staring at
him, when the chief strode up to him and said something with many
gesticulations; but not a thing could the boy understand.

The chief was much more decorated than any one else--covered from
head to heels with stripes and devices in white, blue, and red
paint. There were feathers in his crisp dark hair, and slung over
his shoulder a strange shaped club.

Eustace proceeded, by means of much waving, pointing, and the
patter talked on the plantation by the coolies, to try and explain
how he had come there, and how very much he only wanted to get away
and find the way home. But it was useless--the men shook their
heads and looked perplexed.

Seeing that no one seemed inclined to molest him, but that every
one merely watched him as if he were a monkey in a cage at the Zoo,
he resolved on a desperate step. With a supreme effort he stood
again, staggered over to Bolter, and attempted to mount.

But this was not allowed. With two strides the chief was upon him,
flinging him back on the ground as a big boy might fling a kitten
from him. Then the great man plainly intimated that this creature
he considered his; no one should touch it. Eustace was not to dare
to approach it. The chief's attitude was menacing; it was well to
be seen he felt he had acquired a prize.

"But what is going to happen to me?" thought Eustace, quaking with
fear. "What will they do with me?"

No one seemed to have any intention of doing anything with him at
the moment; he was only stared at. The men, for the most part, were
now more interested in Bolter, particularly his saddle and bridle.
Little by little the women dropped off, as if they had work to
attend to, and a smell of cooking arose that made the boy sick with
longing as he sat huddled up and half silly with starvation and
fatigue. The apathy that had been upon him before he was cheered by
the gleam of light crept over him again; fear faded from his mind;
nothing seemed to matter any more.

He sat so still that presently the children crept closer, and began
to finger his clothes, as if they puzzled them. What drew them away