The negroes came from their hiding place and seized upon the askaris’ rifles. The amazed porters, standing by their loads, broke out into eager questioning, and the replies set them shouting, laughing, leaping with glee. The askaris, equally astonished, looked in a puzzled way from Reinecke to Tom, and made no resistance when the Wahehe were ordered to tie their hands behind their backs. Reinecke, standing within a yard of Tom, gnawed his moustache in impotent rage. "Keep these men under guard," said Tom, and Mwesa summoned forth the concealed riflemen. "Now, Herr Reinecke, you shall have your dinner. Make the most of it. It will be a long time before you get such a meal again." CHAPTER IX--A DELAYING ACTION Damocles, at the sumptuous banquet of Dionysius of Syracuse, no doubt ate with a very good appetite, for Dionysius was his friend, and the sword hanging over his head at the end of a single hair was merely a playful illustration of the insecurity of princes, and no object of fear. It may be supposed that the Greek, sitting within reach of the weapon held by a resolute hand, would have found the dishes offered him savourless, or his throat perhaps too dry for degustation. Curt Reinecke, however, was a German. He flashed one evil look at the tall, grim young man who sat, grasping a revolver, across the corner of a table opposite; then he bent his eyes upon his plate, and applied himself with customary ardour to the appeasement of nature’s cravings. The servant went to and fro, silent, scared. "Get ready to come with me, Mirami--you and the rest," said Tom when the man had brought coffee. "Light all the lanterns you have." Reinecke had not spoken during the meal, complete _ab ovo usque ad mala_. Now, however, having gulped down his coffee, and the liqueur which the admirable Mirami served as usual, though with shaking hand, he cleared his throat and hesitatingly put a question. "Where are you--are we--going?" "That you will see." The German, primed to attempt a parley, sat back in his chair, and said, in the manner of one appealing to good sense: "The frontier is closed. It would be madness to attempt to cross the Neu Langenburg road." "You might be shot by your own countrymen, you mean?" "What I mean," rejoined Reinecke, generously ignoring the insinuation, "is that you are playing a fool’s game. You have the whip hand now; you have, I suppose, raised a mutiny among my people----" "Our people, they used to be: they are mine now." "Ach! what folly it is!" said Reinecke, with a gesture of impatience. "You are in German country; within a few miles there are hundreds of well-trained troops; are you mad enough to think that these raw blacks, who hardly know one end of a rifle from the other, can reach British territory? It is impossible--impossible." "Well?" "Then why attempt the impossible? Look at the matter reasonably, calmly." "I don’t think I am agitated, Herr Reinecke. But go on."