We knew what the matter was, and they knew we knew.

We had nothing to share with them, and they knew that, for they could see the empty rice bags that the porters had shaken and beaten to get out the very dust.

We did not know their language; even Kazimoto professed himself ignorant of any dozen words that could unlock their understanding.
Presently, under the eyes of all of them, Fred got out the rifle from its wrappings and proceeded to clean and oil it carefully, as every genuine hunter should before he sleeps.
Then it was evident at once that new hope for some reason had been born among that silent crowd.

The chief, uninvited, drew nearer and watched every detail of Fred's husbandry with glittering eye.
"Give him the oily rag to suck!" suggested Brown, but that proved not to be the key to his interest, for he thrust the rag back into Fred's hand and motioned to him to continue cleaning.
Finally Fred examined the last handful of cartridges carefully one by one, and filled the magazine.

Then, after making sure the sights were in order, he began to wrap the rifle again.
But at that the chief held out a lean long arm and stopped him.
Coutlass sprang to his feet in a hurry, imagining that was a signal to attack at last, but Fred ordered him to sit down, and Lady Waldon, who seemed possessed for the once by uncanny calmness, asked him to give her an arm to the dhow, where she proposed to try to sleep.