“Indeed,” answered Alan.  “No, Jeekie will carry the rifle for you; yes, and I think that pistol also, every ounce makes a difference walking in a hot climate, and I remember that you always were dangerous with firearms.  There, you will be more comfortable so.  And now, who do you mean by ’we’?”

“I mean Barbara and myself,” he answered slowly.

Alan’s jaw dropped, he shook upon his feet.

“Barbara and yourself!” he said.  “Do I understand——­”

“Don’t you understand nothing, Major,” broke in Jeekie.  “Don’t you believe one word what this pig dog say.  If Miss Barbara marry him he no want shoot you; he ask you to tea to see the Missus and how much she love him, ducky!  We just go on and call on Miss Barbara and hear the news.  Walk up, Sir Robert Aylward, Bart., and show us which way.”

“I do not choose to receive you and your impertinent servant at my camp,” said Aylward, grinding his teeth.

“We quite understand that, Sir Robert Aylward——­”

“Lord Aylward, if you please, Major Vernon.”

“I beg your pardon—­Lord Aylward.  I was aware of the contemplated purchase of that title, I did not know that it had been completed.  I was about to add that all the same we mean to go to that camp, and that if any violence towards us is attempted as we approach it, you will remember that you are in our hands.”

“Yes, my Lord,” added Jeekie, bowing, “and that monkeys don’t tell no tales, my Lord, and that here there ain’t no twelve Good-Trues to sit on noble corpse unhappily deceased, my Lord, and to bring in Crowner’s verdict of done to death lawful or unlawful, according as evidence may show when got, my Lord.  So march on, for we no breakfast yet.  No, not that way, round here to left, where I think I hear kettle sing.”

So having no choice, Aylward came, marching between the other two and saying nothing.  When they had gone a couple of hundred yards Alan also heard something, and to him it sounded like a man crying out in pain.  Then suddenly they passed round some great trees and reached a glade in the forest where there was a spring of water which Alan remembered.  In this glade the camp had been built, surrounded by a “boma” or palisade of rough wood, within which stood two tents and some native shelters made of tall grass and boughs.  Outside of this camp a curious and unpleasant scene was in progress.

To a small tree that grew there was tied a man, whom from the fashion of his hair Alan knew to belong to the Coast negroes, while two great fellows, evidently of another tribe, flogged him unmercifully with hide whips.

“Ah!” exclaimed Jeekie, “that the kettle I hear sing.  Think you better taken him off the fire, my Lord, or he boil over.  Also his brothers no seem to like that music,” and he pointed to a number of other men who were standing round watching the scene with sullen dissatisfaction.

“A matter of camp discipline,” muttered Aylward.  “This man has disobeyed orders.”