“Surely there is no difficulty about that.  We will go when it suits us.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Mr. Hume, gravely.

“But Muata is our friend.”

“Muata cannot do what he likes, and, if he could, you’ve got to remember this—­that Muata in the Okapi, dependent on us, is another person to Muata the chief in his own kraal.”

“I don’t think he would be treacherous,” said Venning.

“He need not go so far as that to upset our plans.  Maybe he would find it convenient to keep us here as his ‘white men’ until it suits him to let us go.  You see, he has got to think of himself as chief and of his people first.”

“I don’t think he would treat us unfairly,” said Compton, warmly, “especially as they owe so much to us.”

“That’s nothing.”

“But, sir, these people were kind to my father; and Muata stood by us all along like a brick.”

“Well,” said Mr. Hume, lighting his pipe, “I always find it pays to keep your powder dry and your eyes skinned.  So whether Muata continues friendly or not, be always on your guard.”

Muata was friendly.  He paid them a visit, and he proclaimed them chiefs with full right to offer council at the Indabas under the title of “The Old Lion,” “The Young Lion,” and “The Spider,” the last distinction falling to Venning, because of his fondness for the pursuit of insects.  Muata then dismissed his body-guard and joined his newly appointed chiefs at the fire.  He sat a long time silent, his eyes bloodshot, his brows bent, and when he did speak, his words veiled a hidden meaning.

“The place is yours,” he said, “to go and to come, to eat and to drink, to take and keep.  Choose any place, and the people will build huts for you.”

“This cave is dry and comfortable.  We want no huts, chief.”

“It is well enough now, but in the rains it is not good.”

“We shall be well on our way before the rains set in, chief.”

“Wow!  The Spider has seen how the ants live.”

The Spider admitted that he had studied the ways of the ant.

“Good.  There are strangers in the house of the ant.”

“Oh yes; you mean what are called the ‘cows’ of the ants.”

“Haw!  That was the word given them by the white man who was here before.  They enter the house of the ant, but out of it never do they pass.”

“Is this, then, the house of the ant?” asked Mr. Hume, quietly.

The chief turned to the Hunter an impassive face.  “My people can build ye good huts, and there are many places thereunder near running waters, with well-grown gardens.  Choose which ye like, my brothers.”

“We will examine and select,” said Mr. Hume, with assumed unconcern.  “And what of Hassan?”

The chief rose.  “He will return like the badger to a bee-tree when the bees have quieted down.”

“And you wish to keep us to help you drive him from the honey again?  Is that it?”