mounted by frowzy mops of sun-bleached hair, rose stealthily above the level of the flooring a dozen yards away, and peeped at him with shy, distrustful eyes.
Kûlop turned in their direction, and the bobbing heads disappeared with astonishing alacrity.
"Come hither," Kûlop commanded.
The heads reappeared once more, and in a few brief words Kûlop bade their owners have no fear, but go back into the forest and fetch the rest of the tribesfolk.
After some further interchange of words and considerable delay and hesitation, the two Sâkai sidled off into the jungle, and presently a crowd of squalid aborigines issued from the shelter of the trees and underwood. They stood huddled together in an uneasy group, gazing curiously at Kûlop, while with light feet they trod the ground gingerly, with every muscle braced for a swift dart into cover at the first. alarm of danger.
"Who among yon is the headman?" asked Kûlop.
"Your servant is the headman," replied an ancient Sâkai.
He stood forward a little as he spoke, trembling slightly as he glanced up furtively at the Malay, who sat cross-legged in the doorway of the hut. His straggling mop of hair was almost white, and his skin was dry and creased and wrinkled. He was naked, as were all his people, save for a dirty loinclout of bark cloth, which use had reduced to a mere whisp. His thin flanks and buttocks were gray with
