CHAPTER III.
THE SPIT OF PEACE.
The camp was not troubled by the savages during the night.
Trim waked up several times to take a look around and on each occasion the pickets told him that they had seen watchmen of the savages approach near enough to the camp to see that it was quiet, and then retire again.
It was clear, therefore, that the Massais were simply watching Trim to see that he did not go without their permission.
When morning came he found that several hundred blacks were gathered at a spot a little way from the camp, and directly upon the route that he would have followed had he proceeded with his journey to the westward.
The savages were making no noise, and but for the bows and spears they had with them would have seemed like an ordinary crowd of curiosity seekers.
Trim rightly judged that this was a part at least of the native army.
There could be no mistaking their purpose in gathering at that particular place.
It was their intention to prevent the white man from going on.
The half-civilized blacks employed by Trim were nervous at this spectacle, but the lad ordered them to go about preparations for breakfast just as if nothing had happened.
Breakfast was eaten in the camp, not one of the white men there appearing to pay the least attention to the Massai warriors.
After breakfast Trim stretched himself upon the ground and waited for what might happen next.
Presently three blacks approached from the direction of the army; Trim recognized them as the elders with whom he had talked the evening before.
He arose promptly, stepped forward to meet the elders, bowing and making broad gestures with his arms to indicate his respect; then he held out his hand for the chief elder to shake.
The elder took the hand solemnly, grasped it, muttered a few words, then let it go.
“Tell him,” said Trim to the interpreter, “that the white traveler is anxious to go on, and that he is waiting because he wishes to do so without giving the Massais unnecessary trouble.”
The interpreter spoke as directed, and the elder after listening gravely replied:
“He says,” translated the interpreter, “that he admires the white traveler and does not wish him to come to harm; he thinks, therefore, that the white traveler had better face to the rising sun and so escape.
“He assures you that if you do so no one of his warriors will be permitted to touch you.”
“Tell him,” said Trim, sternly, “that the white traveler proposes to go toward the setting sun, and that there must be no delay about it.”
“Those warriors,” suggested the interpreter, timidly, “could overcome the whole of us easily.”
“Tell him what I said!” exclaimed Trim, sharply.
The interpreter therefore turned to the elder and while he was speaking Trim and Dobbin reopened the box of trinkets.
They took out double handfuls of them and brought them to the elders, who on this occasion received the articles from the white man’s hands.
They were evidently greatly pleased, although they tried to look serious and unmoved.
Many of the trinkets were intended for wearing as if they were jewelry.
The elders could not resist the temptation of stringing the beads around their necks, putting the cheap bracelets on their arms, etc., to see how they looked.
This done, they strutted up and down for several minutes, speaking to each other and apparently discussing the wonderful value of the articles.
The chief elder went to one of the others, took a bracelet from his arm and put it on his own; the other jabbered at him apparently in indignation, whereupon the chief elder took the smallest string of beads from his own neck and gave it to the one from whom he had taken the bracelet.
“I reckon,” remarked Trim to Dobbin, “that the scheme is working pretty well; these fellows are like children after all.
“The leader is bound to have the best of it, and the others are more likely to quarrel with him than with us.”
Presently the elder put on a very solemn expression, marched up to Trim and held out his hand.
Trim took and shook it gravely.
“He says he likes you better than before,” said the interpreter.
“Tell him,” responded Trim, “that the white traveler considers that he is the greatest man in this country, and that if he will wait a minute the white traveler will present him with the most important offering of respect that he possesses.”
The interpreter translated and the elder’s eyes fairly burned with excited curiosity.
“Ee’ve got him all right when he shakes hands with ee, haven’t ee, lad?” asked Dobbin.
“Shaking hands is not enough for these people,” Trim replied, “if they were whites a handshake might be a sign of faithful friendship; as it is, I’ve got to wait for a stronger expression from them.”
Saying this he was rummaging in the box of trinkets.
Down at the bottom was an opera hat that Trim had put in with the idea that it might come handy for just such an emergency.
It may be explained that an opera hat is an article very commonly worn by swells in civilized life.
It is a hat that has springs in the crown by means of which it can be crushed as flat and very similar in appearance to a platter.
Work the springs in the opposite way, and the hat becomes a regulation stove-pipe.
It has not the shiny appearance of the tall silk hat, but in other respects it is exactly like it.
The hat lay in its flat condition at the bottom of the box.
When Trim took it out and approached the elder the latter looked surprised and disappointed; he had evidently hoped for something bright, and he would have probably been tickled with a baby’s rattle.
Trim stood before the elder and handed his own hat to Dobbin; then he worked the springs of the opera hat, almost bursting with laughter as he saw the elder’s eyes bulge with surprise at the change that occurred in the article.
Very gravely Trim then placed the hat on his own head; after leaving it there a moment he took it off and set it on the head of the savage.
The black man swelled with pride, he puffed out his cheeks and strutted up and down before his companions with the most comical air of importance.
Dobbin was so nearly overcome with a desire to laugh that he coughed violently, and had to hide in Trim’s tent to keep from spoiling the effect of the proceeding.
Pretty soon the elder put his hands up to the hat and took it from his head with great care; he seemed to be afraid that it would drop and break.
He felt of the crown, looked inside, and was apparently very puzzled.
Trim saw what was in the great man’s mind, so he stepped up to the elder, held out his hand for the hat, took it, and with a smart blow pushed the top of the crown down to the rim, thus restoring the hat to the shape of a platter.
The elder’s jaw dropped as if he feared that the beauty and usefulness of the thing had been destroyed.
Trim quickly worked the springs again in the opposite direction, and again the hat assumed its stove-pipe appearance.
Then the lad handed the hat back to the elder. The latter timidly pressed his hand against the top of the crown. He was a little afraid of it at first, but presently he had crushed it, and the next moment he had worked the springs outward.
Then for at least a dozen times he amused himself in opening and shutting the hat, while his two companions looked on with admiring and envious curiosity. At length the chief elder put the hat on his head and held out his hand to Trim, at the same time jabbering rapidly.
It was a long speech. The interpreter translated it all to Trim, but the long and short of it was that while the elder was very grateful and had the biggest sort of respect for the young white traveler, he was still of the opinion that it would be better if the white traveler should face about and go to the east.
“Well,” thought Trim, “he hasn’t withdrawn his army yet, but I’ve made some progress; he isn’t threatening any longer, but on the other hand he seems to be advising me.
“I wonder if he fears that his army won’t obey him?”
After a moment of reflection, Trim said to the interpreter:
“Tell him that it is very important for the white traveler to go on to the west; it would be impossible for him to turn back, even if by going on he should go to certain death.
“Ask him if he knows any reason why the white traveler should be afraid to go on.”
After this had been translated to the elder there was another long speech.
“He says,” translated the interpreter, “that he thinks the white traveler is not like other travelers.”
“He believes that you are going to see a man, and he is very certain that that man will make trouble for you.”
“What does he care about that?” exclaimed Trim, wonderingly. “What business is it of his whether I get into trouble beyond his country or not?”
“From what he says,” responded the interpreter, “I think he means that he has some kind of an arrangement with the Narugas for stopping an expedition like this.”
“I began to think it was something of that kind,” said Trim.
“Tell him that I fear no trouble, and that I shall go on whether he gives permission or not.”
When this had been translated the elder looked solemnly at Trim for a moment, and then held out his hand.
“Third time never fails,” remarked Dobbin, who was watching the scene from the shelter of the tent.
Trim was not yet satisfied, however. He knew that three handshakes from this tribe was not enough to be a promise of friendship.
“Tell him I’d like to look at his army,” he said.
This was translated and the elder promptly turned toward the big crowd of blacks and beckoned to Trim to go with him.
Trim promptly followed, and Dobbin fearing that his young friend was about to be led into a trap got up from the tent and ran after.
The interpreter went along also, and Trim made a number of complimentary remarks about the appearance of the soldiers.
“I believe,” he thought, as he looked the crowd over, “that half a dozen pistol shots would scatter this gang, but what good would that do if one of their poisoned arrows should happen to scratch my skin?
“We must get out of this peacefully, and I think we shall manage to do it.”
The elder told about the courage of his men, and how they had fought all surrounding tribes successfully, and how they had yielded to the great white queen because of her magnificent presents to them, and not because of her armies.
Trim took it all in as soberly as possible, and told the chief elder that this meeting was one of the greatest pleasures of his life.
At length the chief elder addressed the army, saying but a few words and waving his hand commandingly. At that the soldiers, most of whom had been squatted on the ground, rose and began slowly to go away.
They had no more than started when the chief elder once more extended his hand to Trim, and, having grasped it, spat upon the lad.
“By all that’s decent!” roared Dobbin, in a great rage, “I won’t stan’ that, not even if he is the king of all Africa!”
The old sailor started forward with his fists doubled up to revenge the insult. He would have mauled the chief elder to a pulp before the army could have had time to shoot an arrow if it had not been for Trim.
“Hold on, Dobbin!” he cried, sternly. “Keep your shirt on and go back to camp. This is the best thing that could have happened.”
“Hey!” answered Dobbin, stopping short not so much because of Trim’s stern command as because of the perfect amazement with which he saw Trim give the chief elder’s hand a hearty shake and then spit upon him.
After that the chief elder shook Trim’s hand again, made three or four gestures and walked away.
“Now we can go on,” said Trim, turning to the astonished Dobbin. “And we shan’t have any trouble from the Massais.”
“Whoever heard of a white man letting a nigger spit on him?” exclaimed the sailor.
“Well, I have,” returned Trim. “I heard of it before I started on this trip, and it was what I was waiting for.
“When the Massai shakes hands and spits on you it means that he is forever at peace with you, and nothing could induce him to do you an injury; so I say we’re all right now, and we’ll break camp and lose no more time here.”