“I went out in my raft to snare ibises, and I had gone up the stream an hour’s journey. Then I set my snares and waited. And I heard the sound of many wings, and looking up, saw many herons circling in the air. And I saw that they were afraid; so I took thought. A beast may scare one heron, coming upon it suddenly, but no beast will scare a whole flock of herons. And still they flew and circled, and would not light. So then I knew that what scared the herons must be men, and men who knew not our ways of going softly so as to take the birds and beasts unawares. By this I knew they were not of our race or of our place. So, leaving my raft, I crept along the river bank, and at last came upon the strangers. They are many as the sands of the desert, and their spear-heads shine red like the sun. They are a terrible people, and their march is towards us. Having seen this, I ran, and did not stay till I was before you.” “These are _your_ folk,” said the headman, turning suddenly and angrily on Cyril, “you came as spies for them.” “We did _not_,” said Cyril indignantly. “We wouldn’t be spies for anything. I’m certain these people aren’t a bit like us. Are they now?” he asked the runner. “No,” was the answer. “These men’s faces were darkened, and their hair black as night. Yet these strange children, maybe, are their gods, who have come before to make ready the way for them.” A murmur ran through the crowd. “No, _no_,” said Cyril again. “We are on your side. We will help you to guard your sacred things.” The headman seemed impressed by the fact that Cyril knew that there _were_ sacred things to be guarded. He stood a moment gazing at the children. Then he said— “It is well. And now let all make offering, that we may be strong in battle.” The crowd dispersed, and nine men, wearing antelope-skins, grouped themselves in front of the opening in the hedge in the middle of the village. And presently, one by one, the men brought all sorts of things—hippopotamus flesh, ostrich-feathers, the fruit of the date palms, red chalk, green chalk, fish from the river, and ibex from the mountains; and the headman received these gifts. There was another hedge inside the first, about a yard from it, so that there was a lane inside between the hedges. And every now and then one of the headmen would disappear along this lane with full hands and come back with hands empty. “They’re making offerings to their Amulet,” said Anthea. “We’d better give something too.” The pockets of the party, hastily explored, yielded a piece of pink tape, a bit of sealing-wax, and part of the Waterbury watch that Robert had not been able to help taking to pieces at Christmas and had never had time to rearrange. Most boys have a watch in this condition. They presented their offerings, and Anthea added the red roses. The headman who took the things looked at them with awe, especially at the red roses and the Waterbury-watch fragment.