"_Whou_!" growled the tall Zulu to himself. "A warrior without arms is like a little child, or an old woman." For all that, he had taken the precaution of secreting a formidable knife beneath his _mutya_. He also carried his great war-shield. The Arabs stood, coldly impassive, awaiting them. They were stern, grim-looking, middle-aged men--their keen eyes glowing like coals beneath their bushy brows as they exchanged curt salutations. The chief differed not at all from the others in outward aspect: the same spare, muscular frame; the same grim and hawk-like countenance, haughty, impassive; the same turbaned head and flowing white garments. For all the solemn pledge of peace they had exchanged, it was evident that neither party trusted the other overmuch. They had halted a dozen paces apart, and were silently scanning each other. But what seemed to impress the Arabs most, as could be seen by their quick eager glances, was the aspect of Kumbelwa. They gazed upon the towering Zulu with undisguised admiration. Haviland opened the talk with a few civilities in the current dialect, just to let them see he was no novice at interior travel, then he left the negotiations to Somala. They were peaceful travellers, and desired to quarrel with no man, but were well armed, and feared no man. They would send a present of cloth and brass wire for Mushad and some of his more distinguished followers, then they would go their different ways in peace and amity. The ghost of a contemptuous smile flickered across the features of the Arabs at this prospect. Then Mushad said: "And my slaves? They will be sent too?" "Slaves?" "My slaves. Those who have fled to your camp, O travellers. They must be sent back." "But they have taken refuge with us. They have eaten our salt, O chief. We cannot yield them up. Take presents from us instead." "You are young, and therefore foolish," replied Mushad, staring Haviland in the eye with haughty contempt. "My slaves must be given up. I have said it." "And if we refuse?" "Look yonder. Have you as many fighters as these?" "Not quite as many. But we are well armed, and, fighting in a good cause, we fear no man." For a few moments neither party addressed the other. Meanwhile the doctor said hurriedly in English: "What do you think, Haviland? Is it worth while risking all the expedition, and throwing away the fruits of these two years--and all their gain to science, mind--for the sake of a few miserable niggers? If we send them back, they'll only make slaves of them, and indeed that's all they're fit for." "Let's see." And, turning to the chief, he resumed: "If we send back those who have sought refuge with us, will the chief solemnly promise that they shall not be harmed--that beyond the labour required of them they shall not be killed, or tortured, or ill-treated?" A low growling chuckle escaped the Arab's deep chest, and his eyes flashed in haughty contempt.