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I did not. They would interpret my smile correctly and try to convey their questions through signs and gesticulations. We were so fascinated by this mode of conversation that it was already near nightfall that I realised how late it was.
Picking up their bows and arrows, they bade me goodnight, but promised to come back early next morning to escort us some distance, as the way was not safe for travellers. I watched the retreating figures of these men, black as ebony, whose talk I had found so entertaining. Their clothes were tattered, but their hearts were sound. There were patches on their clothes, but there were no patches of sophistication on their rugged culture. They were children of Mother Naturė; their rough and ready principle was, “Strike before you speak." If they had been given the benefit of knowledge, of education; if their impulsive nature had been moulded by sympathetic guidance, then ... but the speculation is out of place here.. ... .
Hardly had the darkness of the eastern sky become lighter, when the sturdy youths arrived, equipped with bows and arrows to escort us. One of us muttered, “This may very well be a pretext to rob us when we reach some lonely spot.” I exclaimed impatiently:
"Faith, embedded in Truth, wavers not; Life, bėreft of Faith, is not worth a jot!"
'107
