He paid no
attention to Desplaines or his family, but walked straight up to
Frank.
"Hi boss, you go hunt, you go far into land of Bambara," he said,
raising his mighty arm and pointing to the northeast.
Frank nodded.
It was a strange scene. The boys and Ben in their hunting costumes
and stout boots, M. Desplaines, short and inclined to be fat and as
neatly barbered and tailored as if he had just stepped off the
boulevards, Madame Desplaines and her little girls in cool, white
frocks--and in the center of the group--dominating it by his
impressive manner and mighty form--the huge, ebony Krooman.
"In the land of Bambara much game," went on the Krooman.
"So we have heard," replied Frank.
"In the land of Bambara much danger," continued the Krooman, fixing
his dark eyes full on Frank, "much danger to the white boys, who fly
like birds."
"Why, how do you know that?" exclaimed Frank, amazed that the
Krooman should not only know their destination--which might have
been a guess--but have divined the fact that they had an aeroplane.
"Krooman know much that white man not know!" replied the giant
black.
Then, rising his finger, he counted the amazed group of adventurers
who stood transfixed at the scene.
"One--two--three--four--five go to Bambara," he intoned.
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