This formidable force, once clear of the timber, halted, drawn up in a kind of battle line, possibly expecting to strike terror by reason of its numerical strength and sinister aspect, and those watching reckoned it to consist of not less than five hundred men. Above bristled a forest of long spears, the sun flashing back from their shining tips. But higher still, reared above these, there floated a flag. In banner shape, so as to display, independently of any breeze, its ominous device, it was turned full towards them. Upon a green ground a red scimitar, dripping red drops. "That is the standard of Mushad," whispered Somala, touching Haviland's elbow. A vivid interest kindled the features of the three white men, also those of the Zulu. Here, then, was the renowned slaver, the man whose name was a byword from Zanzibar to Morocco. They were about to behold him face to face. Upon the bulk of the native bearers the effect produced was different. The ruthlessness of the terrible slaver chief, his remorseless cruelties--ah! of such they had heard more than enough. And then a man was seen to leave the opposing ranks and walk towards them. Halfway, he halted and cried in a loud voice: "Who are ye--and what do ye here? Are ye friends or foes?" Somala, instructed by Haviland, replied: "We are no man's foes. Our mission here is a peaceful one--to collect the strange rare plants and insects of the land. That is all. Who are ye, and who is your chief?" The herald broke into a loud, harsh, derisive laugh. "Who is our chief?" he echoed. "You who gaze upon our standard, and ask `Who is our chief?' Ye must be a _kafila_ of madmen." "Is it the great Mushad? If so, we would fain see him, and talk. Yonder, where the stones rise upon the plain," went on Somala, prompted by Haviland, and indicating a spot about a third of the distance between their position and the hostile line. "If he will advance, with three others--unarmed--we will do likewise, pledging our oath on the blessed Koran and on the holy _Kaba_ that we meet only in peace." "I will inquire," replied the emissary, and turning, he went back. "Supposing he accepts--which of us shall go?" said Oakley. "I and Somala, and Kumbelwa," answered Haviland. "And I think Murad Ali," designating a dark sinewy Arab, a blood brother of Somala's. "I claim to go instead of him," said Dr Ahern, quietly, but firmly. "Oakley can remain in command." "Very well," said Haviland. "Will they really be without arms, Somala?" "They will perhaps have small arms concealed, Sidi. But they will not break faith." "Then we will do the same, and on the same terms. Look! Here they come!" Four men were seen to detach themselves from the group, and advance, one bearing the chief's terrible standard. When they were near the appointed spot, Haviland and the doctor, followed by Somala and Kumbelwa, also stepped forth.