“They have the price with them,” said the man, with a cunning look, “in ivory, in palm-oil, and in many things they have robbed from the villages.”

“And what avails them, all those things—­which are heavy things—­if they have no canoes to carry them in to the traders?”

“Did I say they had no canoes?  A great fleet they have waiting in hiding, till all the band come together from the hiding, waiting on the other shore.  It was because I saw the fleet of canoes on the river, crossing to the far side, that I hoped to surprise the few who were left.”

“And when may those canoes return?”

“The men collect their goods for the going; the time must be short before they leave.”

“And where do the others lie hid?”

“By the great palm-tree, over there.”

“Where there were men sitting watching?  It was because they had no canoes that they did not follow you?  Shall I tell you what was in my thought?  This, that you and they were friends, and that you were the bait to draw us into the trap.”

The man grinned nervously, and glanced at the water.  “Would a little man trust himself in the power of such great chiefs, if his heart was crooked.  I came for help, but if it pleases you to continue to the village, and to leave these bad men, it will please me also.”

“And if we attack these men,” asked Muata, after a pause, “what plan have you made for us?”

The boatman was relieved.  His eyes brightened again.  “See, we would land beyond that point ahead, and in the dark steal upon the robbers.”

“We are too few,” said Muata, after turning the matter over.  “Now, if you could bring some of your friends to help, it might be done.”

“I am alone, and you are great warriors.  Your name has gone abroad.”

“How?  You know us, then?”

“All white men are the same in battle,” said the other, quickly.

“Think over my words—­that some men are wanted.  There must be men to guard our canoe, others to watch for the return of the robbers from across the river.  You must get men, otherwise we do nothing.”

The canoe-man pondered, then he clapped his hand over his mouth.

“Yoh!  The fear of death confused me, and drove from my thought that my brother is near with warriors protecting the gardens.”

“Good, then.  Go to your brother.  Bring him and his warriors to the point you spoke of, light a fire there to guide us, and in the dark we will join you.”

Muata hauled on the rope, boarded the Okapi, and set the canoe adrift.

“Do as I have said—­gather the men quickly, light a fire, guide us to the hiding-place, and in the morning we will share the riches.  Hurry!”

“And is that the word of the white chief also?” asked the man, suspiciously.

“Did not the white chief leave this palaver to me?  Go! for there is no time to waste.”

The paddle flashed as the man sped for the shore near the point he had referred to, which was several miles above the spot where he had been taken in tow.