"Had we not better arm the other Kroomen?" asked Billy anxiously.
"It would be useless," was Sikaso's reply, "they are cowards. At
the first sight of blood they would run to the forest like the sons
of weaklings that they are."
"We must rouse Professor Wiseman at once," cried Billy.
"It is well," muttered Sikaso, "we shall need every man who can hold
a rifle to-night but the professor is old, my brothers, and his
heart is as a woman's."
"Well, he'll have to fight," said Billy with bloodthirsty determination.
"I for one am not going to stand calmly by and have my throat cut, or
worse still be taken prisoner by this old Muley-Hassan."
Old Sikaso glanced approvingly at him.
"Well spoken, Four-eyes," said he; "spoken like a son of a warrior."
Billy's ears tingled at the compliment, which was really in the old
African's opinion the highest that could be paid to a man or a boy,
and hurried off to wake "the bugologist" as be disrespectfully
termed the professor. To his surprise, for he more than half
expected an outbreak, Professor Wiseman did not appear particularly
concerned at the news that Diego, and Muley-Hassan were--as the boys
had every reason to believe--at that moment advancing on the camp.
"I will dress myself with all alacrity," he said, "and join you in
your tent, but I must say I don't believe in all this witchcraft.
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