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.”