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That was the name which came to his tongue again and again, with the question whether his friendship could not be enlisted on the side of the youth, who had come so strangely to the Murhapa village. He was a shrewd fellow who must suspect the truth of those stolen glances. He had shown a sudden and strong affection for the explorers, and especially for Ashman to whom he surrendered.
Ashman saw the figure of a Murhapa, but instead of being erect, he was seated on a ledge of the rock, his body half prone and in a motionless posture. The paddle was dipped more softly than ever as the craft came opposite him, but he did not speak, or stir. "He's asleep?" whispered Ashman, looking inquiringly at her.
There was no native, so far as they could see, who was the equal in size and strength of Ziffak, but they were so much the superiors of any natives encountered since leaving the Amazon, that it was easy to understand how they were the lords and masters of all the tribes with which they came in conflict. We have spoken of the Murhapa houses as being but a single story in height.
"You heard but a few minutes ago the sounds of guns and the shouts from the direction of the rapids, which show they were fighting." "Those people are not mine," said the native; "but they are my friends, and I fight for them." "From what you said, you are a Murhapa?" Ziffak nodded his head in the affirmative. "Where do they live?" He extended his hand and pointed up the river.
Almost at the moment that his comrade fired his first shot, he descried the figure of a Murhapa trying to steal into the apartment without detection; but just enough of the moonlight that was shut from the front doors and windows, reached the rear of the building, to disclose the outlines of the head and shoulders, as he began stealthily creeping into the building.
The older females had not only rings hanging from their ears, but still more valuable ornaments depended from their noses. It would have enriched an army to loot the Murhapa village. Each of the whites carried his Winchester, and Bippo and Pedros did not forget their almost harmless spears; but the rifle of Johnston was left behind with the valuable property.
The Murhapa village wore its usual appearance, so in contrast with what met the eyes of our friends when they first saw it. The Professor and the New Englander were waiting near the door for Ashman to join them. As he came out, the former shook his head, with a laugh, as an intimation that the young man in the ardor of his interest had made a mistake.
The foremost figure was a white man; the next was a dusky giant, and the third was of fair complexion, while all the others were of the hue of native Africans. There could be no mistaking the identity of the leaders: the foremost was Waggaman, the second, Ziffak, and the third, King Haffgo. Those who followed were the pick of the Murhapa warriors.
When Bippo timidly asked his masters whether they meant to return or attempt to go any farther up the Xingu, they were assured that no such thought was in the mind of either of the explorers. They would only be thankful if they could get back to the Amazon without ever meeting another Murhapa.
The alarming feature of it all was, that the king was in an unmistakably angry mood. He not only talked fast but he talked loud, sure evidence of his excited feelings. It sounded as if Ziffak was striving to placate him, but his royal brother grew more savage each moment. The words of all were uttered in the Murhapa tongue, so that the listeners could form no idea of their meaning.
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