This is a very important matter. Don't talk about
it, and if you can't keep down your excitement, let them think it is the
prospect of good victuals, and plenty of them, that has excited you."
After supper Maka and Cheditafa were called upon to tell their story, but
they said very little. They had gone to the place where the Rackbirds had
kept their stores, and had selected what Maka considered would be most
desirable, including some oil for the lantern, and had brought away as
much as they could carry. This was all.
When the rest of his party had gone inside, hoping to get their minds
quiet enough to sleep, and the captain was preparing to follow them, Maka
arose from the spot on the open plateau where the tired negroes had
stretched themselves for the night, and said:
"Got something tell you alone. Come out here."
When the two had gone to a spot a little distance from the cavern
entrance, where the light of the moon, now nearly set, enabled objects to
be seen with some distinctness, Maka took from inside his shirt a small
piece of clothing. "Look here," said he. "This belong to Davis."
The captain took the garment in his hand. It was a waistcoat made of
plaid cloth, yellow, green, and red, and most striking in pattern, and
Captain Horn instantly recognized it as the waistcoat of Davis, the
Englishman.
"He dead," said Maka, simply.
The captain nodded.
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