‘Meantime Tamb’ Itam had reached the end of his journey.  The fog had delayed him a little, but he had paddled steadily, keeping in touch with the south bank.  By-and-by daylight came like a glow in a ground glass globe.  The shores made on each side of the river a dark smudge, in which one could detect hints of columnar forms and shadows of twisted branches high up.  The mist was still thick on the water, but a good watch was being kept, for as Iamb’ Itam approached the camp the figures of two men emerged out of the white vapour, and voices spoke to him boisterously.  He answered, and presently a canoe lay alongside, and he exchanged news with the paddlers.  All was well.  The trouble was over.  Then the men in the canoe let go their grip on the side of his dug-out and incontinently fell out of sight.  He pursued his way till he heard voices coming to him quietly over the water, and saw, under the now lifting, swirling mist, the glow of many little fires burning on a sandy stretch, backed by lofty thin timber and bushes.  There again a look-out was kept, for he was challenged.  He shouted his name as the two last sweeps of his paddle ran his canoe up on the strand.  It was a big camp.  Men crouched in many little knots under a subdued murmur of early morning talk.  Many thin threads of smoke curled slowly on the white mist.  Little shelters, elevated above the ground, had been built for the chiefs.  Muskets were stacked in small pyramids, and long spears were stuck singly into the sand near the fires.

‘Tamb’ Itam, assuming an air of importance, demanded to be led to Dain Waris.  He found the friend of his white lord lying on a raised couch made of bamboo, and sheltered by a sort of shed of sticks covered with mats.  Dain Waris was awake, and a bright fire was burning before his sleeping-place, which resembled a rude shrine.  The only son of nakhoda Doramin answered his greeting kindly.  Tamb’ Itam began by handing him the ring which vouched for the truth of the messenger’s words.  Dain Waris, reclining on his elbow, bade him speak and tell all the news.  Beginning with the consecrated formula, “The news is good,” Tamb’ Itam delivered Jim’s own words.  The white men, deputing with the consent of all the chiefs, were to be allowed to pass down the river.  In answer to a question or two Tamb’ Itam then reported the proceedings of the last council.  Dain Waris listened attentively to the end, toying with the ring which ultimately he slipped on the forefinger of his right hand.  After hearing all he had to say he dismissed Tamb’ Itam to have food and rest.  Orders for the return in the afternoon were given immediately.  Afterwards Dain Waris lay down again, open-eyed, while his personal attendants were preparing his food at the fire, by which Tamb’ Itam also sat talking to the men who lounged up to hear the latest intelligence from the town.  The sun was eating up the mist.  A good watch was kept upon the reach of the main stream where the boat of the whites was expected to appear every moment.