One of the natives, hearing the order of the white man, flung a stick at the chief with an insult; but Muata, nothing heeding, sang on his slow song in a voice that was almost like a woman’s.

“Must white men lose their sleep because a robber is to die?” roared the hunter again.

Venning snatched up a beaker of water and ran out barefooted.  He held the water to the chiefs mouth.  Muata turned his smouldering eyes on the boy, sucked in a mouthful of the water, and then shot it out over Venning’s outstretched arm.

Venning dropped the mug, and went back with a red face to see the two officers regarding him with sour faces.

“Serve you right,” shouted Mr. Hume, in apparent fury.  “When will you learn to treat a black like the brute he is?”

“Quite so,” said the senior officer, showing himself.  “I am glad to find you have no ridiculous sentiment.”

“Ah! good morning, my friend,” said Mr. Hume, heartily.  “As for my young comrade, you must pardon him.”

“He has his lesson,” said the officer, dryly, as he pointed to the soaked pyjama.

“The man woke me with his singing.  I have seen men shot for less than that.”

“In good time,” said the officer, with a sinister look, “the accusers will be here to-night, and to-morrow”—­he made a gesture—­ “to-morrow you can also choose the two men you need for your boat’s crew.”

After breakfast, Mr. Hume had an opportunity of speaking without the fear of being overheard, for they finished putting the Okapi together, and worked her out by the levers into the river, where she gleamed in the sun.

“I dare say you think I am a brute,” he said, “and I don’t blame you; but if we mean to save Muata’s life, we must appear to be altogether indifferent to his fate.  Those men are keeping a close watch on us.”

“I know it,” said Compton.

“You do, eh?”

“That Zanzibar boy was spying on us last night before you came, and he tried to get us to bribe him to free Muata.”

“I hope you were not so foolish as to fall into the trap?” said the hunter, sharply.

“I kicked him out of the place,” said Compton.  “I told Venning you were playing a game for Muata’s life.”

“You did me justice?” said Mr. Hume, with his gaze on Venning.

“It seemed to me terrible to leave him without a word of encouragement,” said the boy; “but I am awfully sorry I doubted you, sir.”

“You don’t now, eh?  Well, that’s all right, and I think the chief knows too.  That is why he spouted the water over you.”

“A strange way of showing his gratitude,” laughed the boy, with a reddening face at the thought of the outrage.

“Not so strange.  He saw the Belgians, and did it to put them off their guard.”

“That ought to help us in our plans for his escape.”

“We have plans, have we?”

“You have,” said Compton, confidently; “and your plan is our plan.”