The bushes parted and from them there stepped no less a person than
Muley-Hassan.
He was followed a minute later by half-a-dozen fatigued-looking
followers.
The boys' hands flew to their revolvers and Ben grabbed up a rifle.
Sikaso's ever-ready axe was in the air in a second.
But the Arab put up his hand.
"I have not come to fight but to bargain," he said.
"You have beaten me at every point of the game. Diego is dead--"
"Dead," cried Frank.
"He was bitten by an adder as we were vainly searching for the
ivory," said the Arab sadly, "he died almost instantly."
Of course the boys felt no sorrow for the death of the treacherous
scamp and did not pretend to. They had no great reason to love
Muley-Hassan either, so Frank said coldly:
"What is it you want?"
"Permission to take my canoes and leave this cursed country
forever."
Frank waved toward the river.
"Your canoes are where you left them the night you made the cowardly
attack on our camp. You can have them all but one. That one we
need."
"Alas," sighed the Arab, "I do not need as many as I did when I
came. Of all my followers these alone remain."
He pointed to the scant six, skinny, fever-stricken wretches who
stood behind him.
"Good-by," said the stately Arab, holding out his hand in farewell,
"we shall never meet again, but I shall ever remember that you dealt
by me far better than I would have dealt by you.
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