Beecher played his part to the letter, and the puzzled chief shook hands, unwillingly enough, and then as if forced by his strange guests to offer them a friendly welcome, he led them to the large house, signed to them to enter, and in a few minutes later sultan and guests were seated upon the mat-covered bamboo floor, partaking of a light meal, surrounded by attendants, the two English servants well to the front and carefully supplying their masters' wants.
CHAPTER V
"What's going to be the end of this?" said Beecher at last, as they sat sipping excellent coffee and smoking huge cigarettes, the tobacco being inclosed in a sheath of palm sprout.
"Don't know yet," replied Hollins coolly. "The sultan will give us some tiger-shooting off his elephants, perhaps.—No, no, not now, old chap," he added quickly. "It's too hot, and too soon after lunch.—What does he say, boy?"
"That he wishes us to come out and see something that we stopped, by arriving as we did."
"Oh, very well. If he really is going to treat us civilly we are at his service," cried Hollins, rearing his bulky form above the sultan, as he rose to his feet. "Here, give me your hand, my royal personage."
The sultan shrank as if staggered by his visitor's freedom, but the great hand was extended before him, and as if there were magnetic influence at work he slowly raised his own, allowed it to be grasped, and by its help rose erect.
"Come," he said, in his own tongue.
"Yes, I understand that," said Hollins.
"Be careful," whispered Beecher. "Don't overdo it, man."