They found no words to speak their
mutual astonishment. This was more wonderful, to be sure, than even
either of their former encounters.
For another long hour the two unfriendly English-men huddled away
from one another in opposite corners of that native hut, without
speaking a word of any sort in their present straits. At the end
of that time, a voice spoke at the door some guttural sentences
in the Barolong language. The natives inside responded alike in
their own savage clicks. Next the voice spoke in English; it was
Granville's captor, he now knew well.
"White men, you come out; King Khatsua himself, him go to 'peak to
you."
They crawled out, one at a time, in sorry guise, through the narrow
hole. It was a pitiful exhibition. Were it not for the danger and
uncertainty of the event, they could almost themselves have fairly
laughed at it. King Khatsua stood before them, a tall, full-blooded
black, in European costume, with a round felt hat and a crimson tie,
surrounded by his naked wives and attendants. In his outstretched
hand he held before their faces two incriminating diamonds. He spoke
to them with much dignity at considerable length in the Barolong
tongue, to a running accompaniment of laudatory exclamations--"Oh,
my King! Oh, wise words!"--from the mouths of his courtiers.
Pages:
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328