05
 
 THE WHITE GAMBIT
 
 Turn to the end of this volume 
 
 for list of 
 UNCONVENTIONAL and APHRODITE BOOKS.
 
 AN UNCONVENTIONAL BOOK 
 
 THE WHITE GAMBIT 
 
 author of 
 WITCH DOCTORS, etc. 
 
 THE PALAIS-ROYAL PRESS 
 
 9 Rue de Beaujolais 
 
 PARIS
 
 COPYRIGHT 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 CHWA, prince of the Lion Clan and brother of 
 MATANGA, King of the Wajojo. 
 MTESA, the Black Baboon, court jester. 
 SINOJA, priest of the Temple of Tchoon. 
 TAPAKWE, son of the King. 
 TANKA, son of Chwa. 
 
 TSABI, temple vestal. 
 KANANI, Chwa's first wife. 
 NKOBI, his second wife. 
 BATOMBA, his third wife. 
 
 THE BRASS-EATER, a whice trader. 
 
 THE SCOLDING MONKEY, another white trader. 
 
 THE STORK, a missionary. 
 
 THE EGG-EATER, his wife. 
 
 THE WHITE APE, another missionary. 
 
 THE VAT, the same. 
 
 MALIKO, a native evangelist. 
 
 TCHOON, god of earth and ancestors. 
 BUTARO, goddess of souls. 
 
 TAKWA, the night. 
 
 TANAZI, the dawn. 
 
 TULILI, the sun. 
 
 BANONDA, the moon. 
 
 NAMZA, the waters (rainy season). 
 
 2043828
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 The dregs of the King's beer are scattered 
 in the market place. 
 
 Kanani, first wife of Chwa, prince of the Lion 
 Clan, was entertaining some of her relations from the 
 country. Around a smouldering fire, amid yeasty 
 odours of beer, of food and sweat, sat twelve of her 
 guests whose bodies, nude save for bead embroidered 
 aprons of hide as small as a child's hand, worn behind 
 to guard the womb from the flower spirits while the 
 hoeing is being done, were carven in ancient ivory 
 and mouldy jet. Round were their faces and as 
 sheeny as a bird's breast, and others were as shrunken 
 and lined as withered fronds. Eyes and teeth fluttered 
 like butterflies in the dawn-mist of a swamp. A large 
 globular object loomed densely amidst the figures 
 against the grass walls and grimy bamboos of a partition 
 a huge calabash of native beer. The hostess 
 was seated upon her ankles. Ivory bracelets gleamed 
 dully upon her full arms. A heavy brass ring encir- 
 cling a plump neck mounted a face touched by the 
 first caress of maternity with a bridged nose of ebony 
 and broad lips of a bluish tint. Opposite to her 
 
 ii
 
 were two younger women : one, more bronze in 
 complexion, with fuller lips and adolescent bosom, 
 Batomba, the youngest wife ; and Nkobi, roundest 
 of face and squattest of nostrils whose yearning breasts 
 were eloquent of the infant slumbering within the folds 
 of her smooth body. In the pauses of a distant male 
 voice chanting in a minor key to the repetitive notes 
 of a ten-stringed lyre, dominating the rhythmic chorus 
 of the frogs, filtered through the hum of mosquitoes 
 the shrilling of a cricket and a distant yapping of a cur. 
 
 "Eh," Kanani, the hostess, was remarking, "thus 
 he said to me ; and, sisters, laughed I muchly for are we 
 of the huts of Chwa wearers of the white man's cloth ?" 
 
 A ripple of giggles testified appreciation of the joke. 
 
 "Ehh, cousin," responded a woman whose face 
 was lined like a lizard's belly, "but what thinkest thou 
 Tayani, the wife of Barali, she who wears the white 
 priest's amulet, would have said to the Brass-Eater ?" 
 
 "Nought would she have said or say," retorted 
 Kanani, "for she hath done taking fifty times as 
 much wire from the store as he gave at his market! 
 Weareth she not the white man's cloth? Sayeth she 
 a white man's wire is not so stiff as a black's!" 
 
 "Tee hee!" spluttered the company. 
 
 Said a woman of plum nose : "What thinkest thou 
 then, O Kanani, of the Stork ? Is he also a seller of wires ?" 
 
 "Know I not," replied Kanani, "but mayhap his 
 wife, the Egg-Eater, also buys from the Brass-Eater!" 
 
 A gust of laughter crushed the chant as the whirl- 
 wind before the rain-storm stills the crickets. 
 
 "How then can they be true words," said another, 
 "that whites have but one woman ?" 
 
 12
 
 "Mayhap," said Kanani, "wives cost more in their 
 country than brass wire. Doth not a man profit by a 
 cheap market ?" 
 
 "But then," continued the enquirer, "doth not 
 the polite husband provide the fraternal guest with 
 courtesy ?" 
 
 "Mayhap," suggested Nkobi timidly, "he offereth 
 her to him?" 
 
 "Ehh! who would give the only dish to another ?" 
 scoffed another country matron. "They have strange 
 gods and stranger ways, these whites, making magic 
 with blood and light and yet starving the very bowels." 
 
 "Know we not these men, we of the gardens, 
 O Kanani," interposed the latter's sister- wife. "What 
 sayeth the Black Baboon?" 
 
 "Aie!" returned Kanani importantly, "did he 
 not tell the father of Lions that the whites have found 
 their souls and lost their manhood!" 
 
 Once more shrill giggles blended with the distant 
 chant in applause at the court jester's latest quip. 
 
 "Aie," put in one of the country cousins, "doth 
 not the dung-eater of the Vat say that their god com- 
 manded that men of his clan should take all women as 
 mothers-in-law, shielding their faces when she passeth 
 by?" 
 
 "Ehh!" tittered Nkobi, "from whence then come 
 the mothers of the tribe ?" 
 
 "And they say," persisted the other, "that their 
 god was born of a vestal. What need then should 
 woman have of man!" 
 
 "Nay!" responded Kanani severely, "in such 
 indeed do they talk wisdom, for is it not well known
 
 that women may well be taken with child by the 
 spirits ? Was not Tsabi, the vestal, born of a banana 
 flower which fell upon her mother's back when hoeing ?' ' 
 In the ensuing silence caused by the admonition 
 of the hostess and chief wife soared the voice of the 
 troubadour above the insectile anthem : 
 
 Dwelleth he within the sacred gates : 
 Guarding the relics of birth and life! 
 CHWA ! . . . prince of the blood of Lions ! 
 
 And in belly tones came the chorus : 
 
 Ow! Weballi Ow! 
 
 Speaketh he with the holy spirits, 
 Offspring of Tchoon, father of him ! 
 CHWA ! . . . prince of the blood of Lions ! 
 
 Ow! Weballi Ow! 
 
 Lifted he high the shield of pure white : 
 Fleeth the enemy! Warriors, hail! 
 CHWA ! . . . prince of the blood of Lions ! 
 
 ; Ow! Weballi Ow! 
 
 Bloweth he shrill on the horn of the chase : 
 Elephants shake the earth in their fear! 
 CHWA ! . . . prince of the blood of Lions ! 
 
 Ow! Weballi Ow! 
 
 Stampeth he once raising his spear : 
 Women are pregnant, virgins weep! 
 CHWA ! . . . prince of the blood of Lions ! 
 
 Ow! .Weballi Ow!
 
 The scattering of the lyre's notes blended into 
 the hum of the mosquitoes and the aquatic chant. A 
 sudden shrill of a cricket impinged upon a bird's harsh 
 call, the bass murmur of voices, and the gurgle of beer. 
 
 "Eh!" bubbled Batomba, "well may the minstrel 
 sing of our potent lord! Have I not hoed beneath 
 a hundred plantains in flower who may not help him!" 
 
 "Thy chatter is even more foolish than that of the 
 honey bird seeking to lure girded warriors to his 
 store !" snapped Nkobi to the third wife, mother of none. 
 
 "Tc-ch!" scoffed the girl rebelliously, "who is 
 the daughter of the plantain-eater that she should gnaw 
 the toes of a vestal of the temple!" 
 
 "Daughter of the reed fence, sew thy lips lest the 
 ants eat thy heart!" commanded Kanani. 
 
 For a moment the fumes of the potent beer welled 
 strongly within the head of Batomba. 
 
 "Thou girl ! of what chatterest thou ? Who art 
 thou to say yea or nay to the brother of the blood ? 
 Had it not been for me thou wouldst have never seen 
 his shadow any more than the lung fish in the lake! 
 A tongue-taste, thou, for my lord's whetting!" 
 
 Beneath this stinging reproof, reminding the 
 guests that she, Kanani, had brought Batomba to the 
 notice of her lord as merely a dainty morsel to please 
 him, Batomba slunk behind her neighbour's back. 
 A puff of warm air swirled smoke across the circle 
 of eyes. A gruff voice muttered commandingly and 
 again began the fluttering of the lyre. 
 
 The matron of the gardens absently scratched her 
 armpit so vigorously that the nipple of the honourably 
 pendent breast fluffed her thigh. 
 
 15
 
 "Ehh !" she commented respectfully, "O Kanani, 
 indeed do the young trees of the town grow straighter 
 than those of the gardens!" 
 
 "Thou dost tickle mine ears, O mother of many!" 
 returned Kanani, pleasedly, after quaffing beer. Her 
 eyes withdrew from the direction of the recalcitrant 
 wife shining proudly. "Ehh!" she continued, raising 
 her voice against the thrumming of the troubadour, 
 "is it not permitted to a mighty warrior to sup from 
 other dishes than his own ?" 
 
 "Indeed! Indeed!" murmured the company 
 politely. 
 
 "Our lord is just! Who shall deny him tasty 
 meat ?" 
 
 "Eh!" exclaimed one, "hath not thy lord tasted 
 of the daughter of the Banana ?" 
 
 A subdued giggle by the other guests was echoed 
 by Kanani as one mouthing a piece of antelope meat. 
 
 "Hath he not tasted of all even within the big 
 fence (the King's palisade)," she boasted with a slight 
 hiccough. "Ehh! have not I, his chief wife, had the 
 honour to aid him by these very shoulders to climb the 
 fence of the vestals' enclosure, listening joyfully to 
 the slap of his feet as he slid down the pole she had 
 placed for him and she sighing her greetings! Eh! 
 who shall say him nay except young rats of the 
 reed fence," she added vindictively catching sight of 
 Batomba's timid eyes peering over a shoulder. 
 
 "Indeed! Indeed!" murmured the company. 
 
 "Say they not," interposed a country girl, "that 
 on the swelling of the moon she shall be given in mar- 
 riage to the chosen of the god ?" 
 
 16
 
 "Teh!" retorted Kanani, "he who hath the shells 
 buyeth 'the voice' of the god." 
 
 "Ehh! Ehh!" ejaculated several shocked by the 
 drunken impiety. 
 
 "We of the capital have not our thatches tied by 
 the priests," continued Kanani aggressively. "And 
 what should he do, 'the voice', but slink before the 
 prince of the blood lest he " 
 
 She ceased abruptly at the strangled crow of a 
 rooster. 
 
 "Eh!" she mumbled agitatedly in the general 
 abashed silence of the women, "when the cock flappeth 
 his wings before the false dawn he dieth ere the setting." 
 
 "Nay," responded quickly the country woman 
 with the lizard skin, " 'twas but a hen chirkling at a 
 snake in the thatch." 
 
 "Aye, it was so indeed," assented Kanani, grateful 
 for the native wit which she considered to have averted 
 the evil omen referring to indiscreet braggarts. Yet 
 eyes fluttered like moths to the door and the smoky 
 obscurity of the roof where ghostly eavesdroppers are 
 known to lurk. The cock crowed not again. The 
 chanting without continued. The embarrassed immobil- 
 ity of the group was broken by a convulsive clutch at the 
 beer ladle. Thirsty supping followed, yet hastily, as if de- 
 sirous to wash the flavour of blasphemy from guilty lips. 
 
 "Are the words true," demanded a woman with 
 pendulous breasts and the scarified forehead of the 
 western tribe, "that the white men of the strange god 
 have but one wife knowing no other ?" 
 
 "Indeed are they white words, mother of many," 
 replied Kanani politely, but nervously.
 
 "But," murmured the woman doubtfully, "they 
 say that no white hath more than one woman." 
 
 "They say!" echoed Kanani loudly, as if she were 
 strenuously directing an unseen listener's attention 
 to another subject. "Thou hast given thine ears to a 
 dung-eater! Doth not the cock say likewise to the 
 hen, and she content ?" 
 
 "Our men," added another woman with a provin- 
 cial accent, emboldened by the words of her hostess, 
 "prefer the words of the Promiser of Delights (Mo- 
 hammed) - - women as they are in this world, and in 
 ghostland to the good thrice as many, sleek and tender !" 
 
 "Ehh!" confirmed a third, pear-breasted, proudly, 
 "to the warriors the prime bearers of men-children. 
 And doth not my man carry the white shield ? Ehh !" 
 
 "Teh!" sneered Kanani, "the calf ever belloweth 
 the loudest foretelling disaster to the owner." 
 
 The young braggart drooped her head, clutching 
 furtively at the amulet about her bronze neck and spoke 
 no further words. 
 
 "And thou, Batabi, hath the Promiser of Delights 
 passed the eye upon many of thy men-folk ?" 
 
 "Nay, nay," denied that woman flurriedly, "there 
 are but few who have given ear to him and his kind ; 
 our men sacrifice and offer presents only to Tchoon, 
 god of our ancestors." She paused a second as if 
 summoning courage. "But many of thy folk, Kanani," 
 she added defensively, "are said to have hearkened to 
 the gods of the white men." 
 
 "None of the Lion (her husband's clan)," declared 
 Kanani sharply, "have eaten of the bread of the whites. 
 They of the Lung Fish have become dung-eaters; 
 
 18
 
 others of the Rat listen to the rustling of the leaves in 
 the wind of the Stork and the shivering of the blades of 
 grass of the White Ape and the chattering of the Vat ! 
 And ask of them how many have withered in the wrath 
 of Mukwenda and Tchoon ! Eh ! ask of the priests ! ask 
 of the Black Baboon, the wise, who knoweth all things !" 
 
 The ribald tone of Kanani's voice shrilled as one 
 insisting upon her faith which was reflected in the 
 carven countenances of her guests. The low hum 
 of male voices carried through the concert of frogs, 
 crickets, and mosquitoes. 
 
 "Thou, Batabi, provincial!" she hiccoughed and 
 recommenced abusively : "the pigeon hath mucked thy 
 head in the fields ! Thou wast blind when the banana- 
 eater eyed thee before the noon ! the tree where dwelleth 
 thy twin soul hath been soiled by a white ! Thou hast 
 gazed upon thy man's mother! Thy children " 
 
 "May Tchoon seize thy man for a scapegoat, 
 O Kanani!" shrilled Batabi, exasperated by the last 
 insult and the potent beer. "Wherefore talkest thou 
 of my folk ? Are there not those of thy people sacrific- 
 ing to the gods of the whites, dung-eaters all ! What 
 of their gods ? Doth not the Vat carry the fetish of 
 his god upon two sticks of wood even as the White 
 Ape, each crying that he hath greater magic than the 
 other? And doth not the Stork say that both their 
 gods are but wind- whisperings ? And doth not the 
 Brass-Eater laugh in his beard saying that all their 
 words are but lies? The Brass-Eater!" she added 
 scornfully, "had not the grey rat crossed thy path 
 thou wouldst have taken of his wares! And of the 
 sacred 'voice' to be bought for shells thou didst say " 
 
 19
 
 Her excited words were cut as a plantain shoot is 
 severed by a knife by a shaking of bamboo and a 
 choking sob. As the women gazed with distended 
 eyes, the stars peered through the top side of the door 
 and a small dark form dived head forward, sprawling 
 amid the company. They scrambled away hastily, 
 blood spattering them. As they stared, clucking with 
 fright, the man partly raised himself and horror came 
 into his glazing eyes. 
 
 "Women!" he gasped and strove to rise as if to 
 flee, but fell again sideways, revealing dark negroid 
 features and a gash welling blood in his left ribs. 
 
 "'Tis butTanaka!" whispered Kanani relievedly, 
 recognizing the man as a slave. 
 
 The fellow made another effort to whisper some 
 intelligible words; and, as he collapsed, something 
 dropped from his right hand. 
 
 The object rolled into the embers of the fire a 
 dull looking pebble about the size of a cowrie shell. 
 
 "Go!" commanded Kanani to Batomba, shrinking 
 farther away from the newly dead, "tell thy master 
 and summon Panta, the sorceror, lest the place be 
 bewitched!" 
 
 2 
 Before the flowering the sap runs fast. 
 
 In another hut within the sound of the feasting 
 and the music were seven girls. The small fire glowed 
 on tints ranging from a coppery sheen to the blue high 
 
 20
 
 lights of black flesh; on slender limbs, and breasts 
 varying from the breaking mould of a fungus to the 
 full ripeness of a wild orange. The heads of all 
 were shaven to the apex; and upon the crowns, like 
 lone trees in a forest clearing, were two sheaves of 
 wool bound with fibre the insignia of the vestals of 
 the temple of Tchoon, the god of earth. About the 
 floor of trodden cow dung were scattered small gourds 
 and piles of ragged plantain fronds the remnants of 
 the evening meal. 
 
 Upon the naked bodies were no ornaments save 
 rings of ivory the thickness of a warrior's wrist which 
 had been placed upon their limbs above elbows and 
 ankles when they were weaned. The nails of their 
 fingers were long and pointed like talons a fashion 
 only permissible to female royalty and those in divine 
 employ. From crushed plum noses in chubby faces 
 as round as a melon with pouting lips like rinds, they 
 grew to the aquiline lure of the eldest whose breasts 
 like green gourds bespoke her flowering into woman's 
 state. 
 
 Twin black moles peeped beneath buttocks as 
 smooth as a bladder richly swollen with palm wine; 
 flesh with the texture of the fruit of the young banana 
 shone like the polished ebony of the stick of office of 
 the guardian of the god; like the ridge-pole of the 
 King's house was the tiny nose, and the nostrils were 
 those of a run-spent doe ; the proud swell of the belly 
 resembled the black rock beneath the Kiyuma falls 
 worn smooth and round by the tumbling of waters 
 since the days of Tchoon, the father of the tribe; 
 the ears of her were like to cowrie shells and nigh as 
 
 21
 
 small, and they were curled as snugly as a forest orchid 
 upon a bark against a head growing on a neck reared 
 as haughtily as a palm; the teeth, whiter than those of 
 a crocodile, outflashed eyes which, clouded with 
 charcoal lashes, were like to spears seen against a 
 thunderstorm. Such was Tsabi, daughter of the Banana. 
 On the warm air, salted by sweat and smoke, 
 glided the words of the distant chanter : 
 
 Stampeth he, once raising his spear : 
 Women are pregnant, virgins weep ! 
 CHWA ! . . . prince of the blood of Lions ! 
 
 "Ehh!" gasped the vestals in admiration, rolling 
 eyes like reeling moons ; and the youngest giggled. 
 
 "Thou, O Kani, wouldst have thy belly knotted 
 by a demon," exclaimed a girl indignantly, "that thou 
 fearest not the magic of him!" 
 
 The giggles ceased and the features of the child 
 puckered to the point of weeping. She shrank down 
 emitting hysterical sobs as her companions turned their 
 backs. 
 
 "Ehh!" shrilled contemptuously a girl of copper 
 breasts like to bulbs bursting through mould, "she is but 
 a plantain shoot yet unwarmed by the rays of Tulili." 
 
 "Nay," protested a third, "is it not well known 
 that even a shoot may be withered by the sun ? Was 
 not the belly of the second wife of Kanomba knotted 
 by a demon before the tying of the apron and she, 
 barren to him, sold as a slave ?" 
 
 "Eh ! ' ' concurred yet another , "that is so , truly. Let 
 us make presents to Tchoon that we be not cursed too !" 
 
 Renewed sobs trickled from the huddled figure. 
 
 22
 
 "Drive her out!" cried a girl excitedly, "until she 
 be purified." 
 
 "Aye! Aye! get hence, little rat! Go, denier!" 
 screamed three of them. 
 
 As they leaped to their feet seizing gourds and 
 faggots, the child, shrieking, dashed through the fire 
 and out of the hut. 
 
 " 'Tis good! She shall pay a hundred shells 
 for medicine!" exulted one of her companions as, 
 giggling delightedly, they sank back upon their heels. 
 
 "Ye are as foolish as the dung-eaters," said Tsabi 
 soberly. "Think ye that the magic of demons may 
 enter the precincts of Tchoon!" 
 
 "Aye!" assented one, Zana, admiringly. "Thou 
 art as wise, O Tsabi, as the Banana! but they have but 
 the wisdom of the peasant mothers from whom they 
 sprang! Ye fools!" she added, laughing derisively. 
 "Who is stronger than Sinoja, 'the voice' of him?" 
 
 "Teh!" exclaimed Tsabi in sudden wrath, "what 
 is thy ancient snuff box from which the snuff is long 
 since spilled to the eater of enemies who is mightier 
 than elephants, father of Lions next to the royal one!" 
 
 The lithe body loomed in the smoky air like a 
 palm tree in a gale and her eyes and teeth gleamed like 
 stars through the morning mist. The other girls, 
 crouching, watched the dispute as jackals watch a 
 feasting lion. 
 
 "His thighs are like to Mbuli trees ! and the back 
 of him to an elephant's trunk ! Teh ! But thy wizard 
 hath thighs that are as charred sticks and a belly 
 rougher than the pebbles of the river and more wrinkled 
 than an ill brayed shield! Ehh! Chwa is mighty, 
 
 23
 
 fuller of sap than a two year old plantain tree ! What 
 art thou that thou shouldst drink of him ?" 
 
 "Teh!" screamed Zana, her brown back curved 
 like the barrel of a war drum. "What matter that to 
 thee, O Tsabi ? Thou art come to the time to take 
 the woman's flap! Then shall the god give thee to 
 a tree-cutter to wife! and shall I be the favourite of 
 Sinoja the wise! Teh!" 
 
 At a half -stifled exclamation from another girl she 
 ceased. Every pair of eyes fluttered fearfully towards 
 the creaking of the reed door. Through the aperture 
 appeared a wrinkled shaven skull on the crown of 
 which were two clumps of wool similar to those worn 
 by the vestals of the temple. Save for Tsabi the girls 
 shrank in obeisance before this figure which in the 
 smoky gloom resembled a hairless baboon. Ivory 
 rings tinkled faintly as he moved half erect. 
 
 "Lord!" murmured Zana, but as she half rose 
 he struck her expectant face. 
 
 He bent lower, peering around the faces. The 
 head of one was averted and she shrank as if desiring 
 to efface herself upon the ground. 
 
 "Thou, Tsabi!" he commanded and, turning, 
 walked to the farther end of the hut just beyond the 
 circle and sank upon a couch of skins. Trembling 
 in every limb Tsabi rose slowly. In the glow of the 
 fire her eyes seemed veiled by rain. Moaning like 
 a tortured and angry wild cat, Zana huddled on the 
 floor ; and about her, as silent as the fire stones, sat 
 the circle of children. 
 
 Between the chanting and the anthem of the forest 
 glided like snakes through grass the rhythmic fluffing 
 
 24
 
 of flesh. Once when the throbbing lyre was silent 
 the deep voice of Chwa floated on the sultry air. Came 
 a sudden flurry and the squeaks of some birds dis- 
 turbed, and again the wailing of the chant. Several 
 girls giggled and Zana snarled. 
 
 When the harmony of the forest was king, again 
 emerged into the fire-glow the same hairless figure 
 and silently passed out. A girl laughed. Instantly 
 broke out a spate of chatter. Slowly appeared the 
 form of Tsabi from the gloom. The eyes glowed 
 sullenly. She squatted among her fellows ignoring 
 the patter of their questions, indifferent to the crouch- 
 ing figure of Zana watching her as a wild dog watches 
 a feasting leopard. 
 
 Then once again a sudden hush darted upon them 
 and eyes fluttered towards the door. A form blocked 
 the stars and grew into a man, the splendour of 
 whose body was clothed in the blackness of a stormy 
 night. As the girls made obeisance his teeth and 
 eyes gleamed high above the fire as he picked up the 
 frondlike body of Tsabi, whose eyes were as stars 
 breaking through a cloud. 
 
 3 
 Shall an elephant slay a crocodile or capture a bird? 
 
 As if at the wave of a magic wand the sun changed 
 the blue darkling of a rustling lake of plantain tops 
 into myriads of spikes of bright emerald in which, 
 
 25
 
 like sand-shoals, were clusters of peaked thatches. 
 Two large oblong roofs, that of the King and the 
 Council House, formed the hub of a circle of conical 
 huts the royal household containing the many wives, 
 children, officers, guards and slaves. Smoke filtering 
 through hundreds of thatches swayed gauzily in the 
 glare, suggesting groups of ghosts dancing. The 
 lowing of cattle, the bleat of goats, the crowing of 
 cocks, blended with the yap of dogs and the cries of 
 boys. Away beyond the rim of the vast plantation 
 near the bank of a mirrored river was the residence of 
 Chwa, who, the previous evening, had been entertain- 
 ing the near relatives of his first wife Kanani, the 
 men-folk in his quarters and the women, as befitted 
 them, in hers. 
 
 The sun had sped scarcely a hand's span above 
 the fronds when he arose from the low door of the 
 solitary large hut within the innermost palisade a 
 stalwart figure clad solely in a lion's skin knotted over 
 his left shoulder, symbol of his blood and clan ; his 
 body newly laved and oiled by Nkobi, the second wife, 
 rippled and gleamed as he strode away with the 
 carriage of a buck in the rutting season, as blackly as 
 the ebony stick he carried in his left hand. 
 
 Immediately in front of his house (behind which 
 rose the incantations of the medicine-men exorcising 
 the ghost of the dead slave from Kanani' s hut) was a 
 narrow gate in the high fence leading into a path 
 between stout fences wide enough to admit the passing 
 of one man only the sacred way to the temple of 
 Tchoon, god of earth, of whose vast property in land 
 and cattle Prince Chwa was the secular guardian, an 
 
 26
 
 office sometimes held by the surviving brother of the 
 king who, upon his accession, usually put to death 
 by fire (for royal blood may not be spilled) the others. 
 
 One hundred man's paces down appeared on 
 either side of the lane a group of hut roofs. These 
 were the quarters of the vestals of the temple whose 
 duty was to sweep and garnish the holy floor of the 
 god's house and administer to the needs of the priest 
 acolytes who sat night and day within the outer chamber 
 to guard against any sacrilegious act or theft of the 
 consecrated relics. The private passage came out 
 into a large circular space kept meticulously clean, 
 from which ran radii of other narrow passages leading 
 to the quarters of the oracle, the priest, and the vestals; 
 and in front was the broad road by which came the 
 multitude of suppliants to the shrine. 
 
 Behind the temple (a large oblong structure, the 
 roof of which was thatched in two pinnacles as if a 
 couple of ordinary huts had been welded together) 
 was a huge fig tree said to have been planted by Tchoon 
 himself. Seated upon a stool beneath the branches in 
 the early sun was a squat man of a coppery complexion, 
 Sinoja", the 'voice of the god', whose head was shaven 
 except for two clumps of black wool tightly bound 
 in imitation of the temple roof. The beardless features, 
 - for this sacred office necessitated the pulling out 
 of all hairs were of the Bantu type; blunt rather 
 than squat of nose as is the negroid, and loose of 
 lips. Save for the many amulets, ivory rings, and a 
 sheath of reeds decorated with coloured beads and 
 cowrie shells which held the sacred pipe of office, he 
 was nude. 
 
 27
 
 As the prince stepped sideways to avoid his sun- 
 shot shadow from touching the other, the medium 
 slanted his eyes which, shorn of brows and lashes, 
 suggested the cold nakedness of a snake. 
 
 "Greeting, O Keeper of the One!" he mumbled 
 tonelessly as the prince's shadow shrunk toward its 
 base. "How is it with thee ?" 
 
 "It is well," replied Chwa perfunctorily. "And 
 with thee ?" 
 
 An inarticulate grunt complied with formality. 
 
 The lowing of the cattle and bleating of sheep and 
 goats were growing distant. The chatter of women 
 and girls passing on their way to the fields and the 
 squalling of an infant were interrupted by a gale of 
 shrieks from green parrots being chased from the 
 plantation. 
 
 The dark sombre eyes in the jet face of Chwa 
 were set fixedly upon Sinoja who steadfastly avoided 
 his gaze. The slender nostrils of his aquiline nose 
 quivered slightly as he plucked at a tuft of beard on 
 the point of his chin an unusual sign of nervous 
 irritability which was marked by the priest. 
 
 "How is it with thy sacred brother ?" said the 
 latter at last as if apologetically hastening to rectify 
 an omission of politeness. 
 
 "I have not kneeled (seen the King) as I 
 have been feasting relations as thou knowest 
 but he is well," responded Chwa, "he and his 
 fruit." 
 
 "Eh." 
 
 The cold eyes darted a glance as a lizard feigns 
 death watching a fly. 
 
 28
 
 "They say," continued Chwa, "that Tchoon hath 
 spoken to the King ?" 
 
 "He hath spoken." 
 
 "That the Wazingui make magic for war?" 
 
 "Nay, of none such," replied Sinoja, and added 
 slowly: "he spake of the white men." 
 
 "Eh!" 
 
 Chwa's answer inferred indifference. 
 
 "He hath said that the gods of the whites wax too 
 strong, eating many of our peoples." 
 
 "Have then the guts of our gods turned to water ?" 
 inquired Chwa as one reproving blasphemy. 
 
 "How should I know, being no god ?" retorted 
 Sinoja with slight warmth of tone. "Thus have they 
 spoken . . . But there are other birds in the forest, O 
 Chwa. . . Soon shall the voice of Tchoon speak again." 
 
 "Concerning the daughter of the Banana ?" 
 
 "Even so." 
 
 "And it shall be as thou hast said?" 
 
 "How should I know the will of the god, I, but 
 his mouth-piece ? Yet," he added casually, "there 
 are but ten head of cattle come and no goats." 
 
 "The goats shall be there at the opening of the 
 pens. Intercede thou for me with the One!" 
 
 "Is not Tulili (the sun) caught by Tchoon (the 
 earth) ?" 
 
 "Caught is he and borne by Takwa (night) waiting 
 the joyful shout of Tanazi (dawn) !" 
 
 The shadow of the ancient fig tree crept the 
 breadth of three fingers of a young girl. From afar 
 the warm air bore the vibrations of a small drum. The 
 eyes of Sinoja contemplated the slight twitch of the 
 
 29
 
 muscles of Chwa's right calf, gnarled and swelling 
 like the bole of a charred sapling. 
 
 "Ten oxen," murmured Sinoja, "and two milk 
 cows for the glory of the god!" 
 
 "Ten oxen," responded Chwa with features 
 resembling the bottom of a cooking-pot, "and two 
 milk cows." 
 
 The small drum ceased. The rhythm of a 
 pounding pestle sounded an accompaniment to the 
 laughter of women and the distant incantations of 
 the medicine man. A goat began to bleat plaintively 
 near by. Again the small drum throbbed a message. 
 A girl's voice, calling, rang like the notes of a reed pipe. 
 
 The lips of Chwa tightened and the eyes of Sinoja 
 narrowed simultaneously. Very slowly and deliber- 
 ately, with the air of a man performing a ritual, Sinoja 
 stretched forth his right hand and began to scratch 
 a callosity on the joint of his big toe. Chwa watched 
 him politely. 
 
 "Black are the hearts of men and like to a pig," 
 began Sinoja conversationally. "A son of a female 
 cousin of mine desired to make magic against me. An 
 ant was eating his liver for the power that was Sinoja's, 
 he questing women. Eh! Sought he a medicine 
 man of the Wakaka, saying to his soul that were Sinoja 
 his cousin dwelling in ghostland, then should he be 
 taken by the head, fearing no spirits of the dead in 
 the might of Tchoon. Eh! Behold!" said Sinoja, 
 pecking more vigorously at the toe joint, "although my 
 magic slew him for making water upon my thatch yet 
 indeed hath his ghost bitten me even as a jigger flea ! 
 But neither he nor the medicine man of the Wakaka
 
 knew the power of Sinoja. Butaro shall destroy their 
 ghosts that they play not at noon. Thus perish the 
 enemies of Sinoja as the jackal attacking a lion! Eh!" 
 
 Chwa regarded the toe absorbedly. Sinoja's 
 talonlike claw tore off a sliver of dead flesh. Then his 
 eyes darted upwards in a glittering menace. 
 
 "Thou should' st wear sandals of bullock-skin 
 even as do the whites," remarked Chwa solicitously, 
 "if thy feet are as tender as a girl's." 
 
 Sinoja straightened slowly, and his hand fell 
 listlessly to his side, but he showed no resentment at 
 the implied insult. Instead he selected from among 
 the numerous amulets suspended from his neck a 
 small round object in ivory and, withdrawing a leaf 
 stopper, tapped out some snuff into the palm of his 
 hand, which he politely proffered. A slight motion 
 of Chwa's head indicated refusal. Sinoja snuffed and 
 re-presented the concoction. Then Chwa solemnly 
 accepted, taking however only one sniff. 
 
 "Eh!" commented Sinoja, succinctly, as he read- 
 justed the snuff box and let it dangle against his plump 
 ribs. The small drum throbbed insistently. With 
 lidded eyes, in the attitude of a hen after drinking, he 
 sneezed appreciatively ; followed a frog's croak and 
 an echo from Chwa, an action which seemed incom- 
 patible with the dignity of his features. 
 
 "Lift thine ears!" exclaimed Sinoja suddenly. 
 "Hearest thou ?" 
 
 "Aye, 'tis a summons from the Lion." 
 
 "Knowest for what?" 
 
 "Nay." 
 
 Sinoja displayed an agitation as imperceptible as
 
 the ripple made by a water-beetle. He gazed Chwa 
 straight in the eyes, one hand clutching the decorated 
 reed pipe-case. 
 
 "Ere the shadows" which had reached his 
 ankle "have eaten my foot wilt thou hear the great 
 drums." 
 
 "The Lion visiteth the One this day?" queried 
 Chwa. 
 
 "Even so." 
 
 Chwa took up the ebony stick of office which he 
 had laid beside him, preparing to depart. 
 
 "Why was I not warned ?" he demanded im- 
 periously. 
 
 "Thou wast feasting," answered Sinoja smoothly. 
 
 As Chwa gathered up his limbs, his sooty eyes 
 smouldering wrathfully, Sinoja added quietly: 
 
 "Listen, O Chwa! this day will the god speak of 
 his need for more slaves to wait upon his pleasure, 
 male and female." 
 
 "Aye, they are abundant as the harvest!" quoth 
 Chwa, rising to his full height. 
 
 "Even so, but in the ghost world he hath an 
 hunger for vestals." 
 
 The glistening limbs of rubbed ebony stiffened; 
 the tautened muscles of the face relaxed and set again. 
 The sombre eyes gazed down at the speaker. 
 
 "How knowest thou the will of the god ?" he 
 demanded sternly, although there was a note of doubt 
 in the voice as thin as a stray cobweb. 
 
 "Am I not the mouth-piece of the god ? moveth 
 he not within me ?" queried the medium, inturning his 
 pupils. 
 
 32
 
 The stalwart prince shivered like a sapling in the 
 blast of a squall. He sank swiftly onto his haunches 
 as the small drum burst forth. 
 
 "Speak." 
 
 Sinoja remained with eyeballs inverted as if about 
 to be "taken by the head". The tongue slightly 
 protruded. He began laboured breathing. Then 
 through the distended nostrils came these words : 
 
 "Thou, O Chwa, Keeper of the One, take her, 
 as is within thy right, and see that she sit beyond the 
 Mbuli tree that groweth on the broad way an hundred 
 paces from the temple, for unto that tree shall all be 
 taken for the holy slaves, they and the vestals of the 
 temple!" The pupils resumed their normal position 
 and in his ordinary voice he added imperatively : 
 "Hasten! for the shadow devoureth my foot!" 
 
 Even as he ceased speaking came the boom of a 
 heavy drum followed by the nine and twenty others. 
 The vibrations, like giant trees falling, sent birds 
 squawking, children shrieking, and the people to 
 mighty shouting. 
 
 4 
 Do the words of a god, a priest, or a king make beer ? 
 
 The King's house in the centre of the royal hive 
 was within an arena fenced by a stout palisade of 
 intricately plaited grass and bamboo. A large gateway 
 leads to the Council House within another compound. 
 
 33
 
 As usual the summons to attend the King's erratic 
 visits to a deity was impromptu; inspired, so it was 
 understood, by a dream message from the god requiring 
 the august presence. 
 
 One of the earliest of the notables to arrive, almost 
 simultaneously with the stroke of the first drum, had 
 been the chief minister, prime favourite, uncle and 
 father-in-law of the King a venerable of withered 
 features, grey tufted beard, clad in a calico toga, lion 
 skin, and numerous ivory bracelets. About him, 
 beneath the sagging thatch of the open-walled Council 
 House, as the drums boomed and thundered and the 
 people without acclaimed, hurried, with as much 
 dignity as possible in the knowledge that to arrive after 
 his majesty had emerged from his hut was death, the 
 councillors and generals. Some were clad in calico 
 gowns, as was the prime minister, the skins of their 
 clans knotted over the left shoulder. They stalked 
 through the various gates with bright eyes seeking the 
 entrance to the royal hut. Some were gross of belly, 
 and others were skinny and enfeebled of limbs ; but 
 each man as he squatted in his appointed place with 
 legs tucked beneath his thighs emitted an almost 
 inaudible grunt of relief. 
 
 Smothered by the tumult of the drums, as the 
 chirruping of birds by the soughing of a storm in the 
 forest, were the chatter of the women in their quarters 
 and the gossip of the assembled chiefs debating the 
 chances of the late-comers. 
 
 The influx of the summoned diminished like the 
 latter drops of a rain squall. Eyes shuttled between 
 the royal residence, which as yet resembled a ghost- 
 
 34
 
 cursed house, and one of the gates. Two whispered 
 names darted as furtively as the banana-eater from 
 plant to plant: 
 
 "Chwa! eh!" 
 
 "The Black Baboon! eh!" 
 
 On rolled the great drums, lords of sound, thunder- 
 ing like the river rapids. Startled birds wheeled and 
 rocketed across the brazening sky. Squeezed lungs 
 sighed through the assembly like the noon-play of 
 ghosts in the plantation, as the tall form of Chwa, 
 scarlet flamingo feathers upon his head and bearing 
 his ebony stick of office, stalked to his place just as the 
 cessation of the drums cast the clamour of the people 
 into uproar. 
 
 "Mtesa!" sped another sibilant whisper from lip 
 to lip as appeared against the blue shadows of the door 
 the person of the King. The assembly uttered the 
 droning word of the royal salute as each and every 
 one bowed his head to the ground. 
 
 Bwaka Matanga, King of the Wajojo, strode 
 across the enclosure unattended, a resolute figure, more 
 bulky than his brother, clad in the lion skin over a 
 calico robe heavily embroidered with coloured beads 
 and wearing atilt upon his head a head-dress of white 
 ostrich plumes. In the opening before the chiefs he 
 halted, glancing over them with peevish eyes set in a 
 fleshy face. Three men, their powerfully built bodies 
 decorated with hundreds of strings of cowrie shells, 
 hastened with bent heads from behind the royal hut 
 and took their places one before the King with bent 
 back, and the two others one at each side holding cupped 
 hands before his knees. 
 
 35
 
 Just as the King was about to make a signal 
 appeared a solitary figure sauntering towards the 
 waiting council. The limbs of the man were as skinny 
 as a goat's, yet they moved with the lazy grace of a 
 crane and bore strips of monkey skin and dried seed 
 pods which rattled faintly. He was hunchbacked. 
 An enormous shaven skull was thrust forward, swaying 
 like a heavy cooking-pot carried by a child;' his face, 
 one half of which was painted yellow, was greeny black 
 and seamed with as many wrinkles as the father of 
 baboons. Ragged bits of goat skin, cock feathers, 
 cowrie shells, and a host of amulets flapped about the 
 stunted body of the Black Baboon. 
 
 The muscles of the assembled chiefs tautened 
 expectantly. The choleric eyes of Matanga watched 
 the man who, as if unaware of the august presence, 
 advanced slowly. When he had reached a point 
 midway between the chiefs and the King he subsided 
 on to his hams with the yellow side of his face towards 
 Matanga and unconcernedly began to scratch his 
 shrivelled right leg. The attendants remained motion- 
 less, hands cupped, backs bent. The King and coun- 
 cillors stared. But the grotesque figure continued 
 unconcernedly hunting fleas. 
 
 "Thou, Mtesa, fool though thou art," suddenly 
 said the King, "knowest well the penalty thou hast 
 evoked." 
 
 The clawlike fingers pounced. In the compara- 
 tive silence beneath the continuous roar of the distant 
 multitude was heard the crack of the nails slaying the 
 pest. Then, slowly, the yellow face turned sideways. 
 
 "I am a fool, O Matanga!" he called shrilly. 
 
 36
 
 "I slay a flea. Wherefore shouldst the King of the 
 world imitate me ?" 
 
 As if there were no more important business on 
 earth than flea hunting, Mtesa resumed his occupation. 
 The King's gaze lifted from him to the councillors. 
 Every eye was fixed upon the autocrat, awaiting a cue. 
 He seemed uncertain. The mouth softened, then 
 hardened as if he had recollected his dignity; also the 
 fellow had not saluted. 
 
 "Thou! come hither!" he commanded. 
 
 Not a whit did the jester's manner alter. Another 
 flea's back was broken, sounding like the cracking of a 
 seed pod in the heat. 
 
 "Dost hear?" 
 
 Once more the yellow face showed the Nubian 
 half to the King. 
 
 "In ghostland are many kings but few fleas," he 
 asserted in a deep bass voice. "Wherefore should I not 
 procure many slaves to tend upon me even as thou ?" 
 
 And once more he set to upon the slaughter. 
 
 For the passing of a fly's shadow across a wall the 
 King scowled ; then he glanced angrily at his chiefs. 
 
 "Thou art but a fool!" he exclaimed contemptu- 
 ously and motioned to the attendants. 
 
 As they raised him on to the shoulders of the royal 
 bearer came instantly the shrilled words: 
 
 "And thou art but a king!" crushed in the first 
 note of the big drum. 
 
 Straddling the shoulders of the bearer who 
 clutched the royal knees, the King was borne (for the 
 sacred feet may not touch unconsecrated ground) 
 around the Council House to the broad gates of the 
 
 37
 
 inner palisade where the royal guard of fifty bedizened 
 young chiefs, fully armed, nude and oiled, leaped into 
 the van. Behind his Majesty stalked Chwa by virtue 
 of his blood, followed by the councillors and generals 
 in their respective ranks. 
 
 To the roll and thunder of the great drums the 
 party advanced down the avenue bisecting the vast 
 hive. Outside of the gates of the outer stockade 
 beneath the dense shadows of the giant Mbuli trees 
 (said to have been planted in the days of Tchoon to 
 screen the royal enclosure) awaited a band of minstrels 
 with drums and reed fifes, and a body of six hundred 
 of the lesser guards armed with short stabbing spears. 
 As the band, chanting, the drums rattling, and the 
 pipes screaming sprang into place between the King 
 and the chief's escort, the lesser guards scattered, 
 surrounding and protecting the entire body from the 
 masses shouting and yelling in the plantation beyond. 
 
 Amid this clamour solemnly advanced the pro- 
 cession, spears flashing, plumes dancing, along a yellow 
 road blue-spiked by the shadows of the fronds against 
 the rising sun. With them surged the yelling rabble. 
 Bronze bodies and limbs of bistre gleamed ; eyes and 
 teeth rippled like a river in the evening breeze. 
 
 The shadows had shrunk from the ear to the 
 shoulder ere the bodyguard in the van saw the twin 
 thatched roof of the temple of Tchoon. The sooty 
 features of Chwa were gravely set; and, as they plunged 
 into the gloom of a giant Mbuli tree, he gazed ahead. 
 Came an open space of young plantains through which 
 glittered the double escort. Farther along was another 
 Mbuli tree and in the shadows (sepia coloured to 
 
 38
 
 eyes in the glare) were figures squatting. Before 
 Chwa's keen sight could distinguish forms and features 
 they were engulfed by the excited crowd. 
 
 They entered as into a tunnel beneath the mighty 
 branches, the foliage of which was dense enough 
 to defy the sun. Then among forms confused he 
 espied the body of a young girl, resembling a charred 
 stick in the false dawn, crouching timidly behind the 
 giant bole. Her eyes fluttered like white convolvulus 
 in driving mist as the King came abreast of her, and 
 Chwa nigh trod upon the heels of the royal bearer who, 
 at a grunted command, had halted. The white ostrich- 
 plumed head was turned in the direction of the tree bole. 
 Matanga grunted again and the man went forward. 
 
 Three more giant trees were passed before the 
 temple enclosure was reached. On the threshold of 
 the entrance the escort and the screaming band swerved 
 aside. Exactly between the posts the bearer stopped 
 and bending forward, hands upon knees, gently 
 deposited the royal burden upon his august feet. 
 Simultaneously the drums, great and small; the min- 
 strels ; and the shouting of the people ceased. 
 
 The silence was as an otter breaking water. The 
 harsh cry of a parrot crashed like the rip of a spear 
 rending a shield. The pad of bare feet as Matanga, 
 followed by Chwa and a certain five of the councillors, 
 advanced across the courtyard resembled the patter 
 of rain drops on a still night. 
 
 About the temple was no sign of life. Before the 
 low door the King stooped and was swallowed by the 
 dark mouth. Chwa entered and the chosen five after 
 him. Immediately within, Matanga had sunk upon 
 
 39
 
 his hams as did the others each in turn. As the black 
 of roofs grows in starlight under a rising moon, so 
 within the first chamber grew objects to sun-smitten 
 eyes : a circular floor, an arched ceiling ; and, against 
 walls of woven black and yellow grass, squatting 
 vestals and a dais two handsbreadth high, empty. From 
 beyond a curtain of fine reeds issued a muffled voice : 
 
 "Who art thou and whom seekest thou ?" 
 
 "Bwaka Matanga, son of Ntoka Nkwaza," re- 
 sponded the autocrat in a low voice, "seeking the will 
 of lord Tchoon." 
 
 "Hast thou presents of goodly quality and quantity, 
 O son of Ntoka Nkwaza ?" 
 
 "Many and varied, costly and good," returned the 
 suppliant. 
 
 "Enter and make obeisance, praying my good will 
 and the wisdom ye seek!" 
 
 Matanga rose and stepped forward. Chwa, whose 
 sombre eyes seemed to smoulder with a secret 
 wrath, followed ; and the others after him. Parting 
 the reed curtain the King advanced five paces and, 
 sinking upon his knees, bowed his royal head to the 
 ground. Thus also did Chwa and the five councillors. 
 
 As the King lifted his shoulders after the obeisance 
 a mild cough drew his eyes to the right where in the 
 gloom squatted the grotesque figure of Mtesa, the 
 jester. An angry scowl, which seemed to rebound 
 from the painted face (as expressionless as a blasted 
 tree) like an arrow from a shield, was replaced by 
 a quaver of fear in the prominent eyes. 
 
 The inner chamber was larger and more ornate; 
 spears, some with many blades, gleamed like a river 
 
 40
 
 on a dark night. Upon another dais were three objects, 
 each profusely decorated with coloured seeds and 
 cowrie shells : one in the form of a crescent moon, the 
 second gourd-shaped, and the third, small, resembling 
 a young banana. Beyond, seated cross-legged before 
 this altar was Sinoja, the sacred pipe in his hand. 
 
 The talonlike fingers held a glowing ember to 
 the bowl. Puffing strenuously he emitted smoke 
 from mouth and nostrils which eddied upwards into 
 the obscurity of the conical roof. Chwa's and the 
 eyes of the others were fixed raptly on the bald face 
 of the medium. The lashless lids closed over the snake- 
 bright eyes. Smoke curled in wisps from lips and nose. 
 
 The muffled wailing of an infant penetrated the 
 chamber and the distant bleating of a goat . . . The 
 pipe slid from a listless hand and the figure toppled 
 slowly sideways . . . 
 
 A quiver shook the crumpled body, and grew into a 
 rigour. A stifled scream issued from the closed lips. Then 
 burst forth a falsetto voice seeming to come from space : 
 
 The feet of the elephant are mighty and broad ! 
 But who is he that shall walk in two paths at once ? 
 The frown of the gods is like to the plague of the eyes ! 
 
 The tusks of the elephant are whetted and long! 
 But who is he that shall gore two buffalo bulls ? 
 The breath of the gods is like to tongues of a fire ! 
 
 The heart of the elephant is as large as a hut ! 
 
 But who is he that shall house a leopard and goat ? 
 
 The arrows of gods are like to the voice of the clouds! 
 
 The loins of the elephant are virile and strong ! 
 
 Who is he that shall sire piebald twins of a dam ? 
 
 The spears of the gods are like to the teeth of the storm ! 
 
 4 1
 
 The child's wailing and the goat's bleating ceased 
 simultaneously, and within the temple, save for the 
 breathing of the seven suppliants, the world seemed 
 dead. Then again rose the thin voice, a trickle of 
 sound : 
 
 Even unto the third Mbuli tree 
 Send those of my folk! 
 For my body is nigh empty of blood 
 And my throat is parched! 
 
 The twitching of the limbs, as of a slain animal 
 stiffening in death, ceased. The chicken-lidded eyes 
 quivered. Sinoja sighed like a tired child and appeared 
 to sleep. 
 
 Silently Matanga turned and, forgetful of Mtesa, 
 crept reverently from the temple, followed by Chwa 
 and the councillors. For the length of a cow's low 
 he stood blinking in the glare; and then, clutching 
 an amulet beneath his robe upon his left breast as 
 if to steady a loose heart, he strode across the courtyard 
 with a somewhat nervous gait. As he appeared 
 between the gate-posts the masses of his waiting people 
 sank upon their knees while the drums great and 
 small burst into thunder and the populace shouted their 
 acclamations as with one voice. Then did Matanga 
 straighten his shoulders as if at length reassured that 
 he was indeed king and autocrat. 
 
 As the King was borne on the return journey past 
 the second Mbuli tree, Chwa's brooding eyes watched 
 the swaying shoulders of his royal brother expectantly. 
 The third tree was passed. Expectancy changed to 
 anxiety. Half way to the fourth tree the knuckles 
 
 42
 
 of his hand grasping the haft of the ebony stick were 
 the colour of cold ashes. Yet onward marched the 
 King, the screeching band before him. In the deep 
 shadows behind the giant bole of the fourth tree Chwa 
 espied again the slender form against the dawn. Lids 
 almost closed upon his smouldering eyes, teeth clenched 
 so that the muscles of his jaw were as if carven in jet 
 as he strode steadily on in the wake of the ostrich- 
 plumed head which did not turn. At fifty paces beyond 
 the tree from the autocrat on the shoulders came the 
 dread order: 
 
 "Unto yonder Mbuli tree and all about let every 
 man and woman be taken as slaves for the Sacred One. 
 I, Bwaka Matanga, have spoken!" 
 
 Then with shouts and yells, mingled with the 
 screams of the women-folk within hearing, the royal 
 guards sped right and left to round up their quarry. 
 
 43
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 i 
 Who but a child shall make game with riches ? 
 
 When the shadow-soul of a man is shrunken almost 
 to his feet, slept in the shade of the eaves of the hut 
 of Kanani, his mother, a small boy. The features of 
 Tanka's woolly head were as finely modelled in ebony 
 as those of his father and the belly of him as he sprawled 
 on his back resembled, and was as firm as a black 
 pumpkin, even to the broken stalk which was the navel. 
 One hand shielded the eyes from the plague of flies ; 
 and the other, propped against the grass wall, still 
 tightly clutched two stones with which he had been 
 practising, until too drowsy in the heat, a game played 
 by pitching pebbles into the holes burned in a flat block 
 of wood. Flies buzzed. A distant low of cattle barely 
 reached the slumbrous village. The harsh shriek 
 of a bird seemed to break the shimmering silence like 
 the cracking of a dry gourd. 
 
 The boy stirred ; opened wide his eyes which 
 were like sun-shot pebbles set in a crow's wing ; 
 sighed, brushing away the flies ; and dozed again. 
 The shadows at length began perceptibly to swell. 
 A sound alien to the harmony of the village penetrated 
 
 44
 
 the boy's keen ears the shuffle of something that 
 was neither a hoof nor a bare foot upon the earth. He 
 sat up, dropping his toys to rub the flies from his eyes. 
 One of the stones was of granite, the other looked like 
 water-worn quartz smeared with fat. 
 
 A slight commotion and whispering came from 
 an adjacent hut. Tanka twisted, like a snake uncoiling, 
 on to his knees, listening intently. The shuffling sound 
 ceased; a thick voice as one speaking with the mouth 
 full of plantain porridge spoke. Forgetting his pebbles 
 Tanka rose noiselessly and, after a swift glance about 
 to see that none was observing him, ran lithely around 
 the hut to the back which abutted on to a palisade. 
 Wriggling well into the narrow border of shadow he 
 placed one eye against .a hole in the plaited reeds, a 
 hole made many moons ago to satisfy a curiosity to know 
 the doings of that most exalted person, his father. 
 
 In the act of entering the inner compound Tanka 
 saw an indubitable white man ; his thighs were as 
 thick as an elephant's leg and of the colour of a dried 
 gourd and about the shins were bound brayed hides; 
 the headdress of his tribe was of skin strangely 
 fashioned ; the body was covered in the calico which 
 he had seen some of the people wearing. On one hand 
 covered with hair the lad's keen sight detected some- 
 thing which flashed brighter than a spear point in the 
 sun a powerful amulet no doubt. But the strangest 
 thing to Tanka's young eyes was the growth of hair 
 upon the creature's face : long it was as a goat's beard, 
 yet thick and dense resembling a Colobus monkey. 
 Behind him, bearing a small bundle, walked a nude 
 Bavondo. 
 
 45
 
 As the boy peered, the Scolding Monkey, whom 
 he recognized from the talk of the women, stopped 
 within the gate of the palisade and began to act in a 
 manner that caused Tanka's heart to become unstuck, 
 rattling against his ribs. Magic the white man 
 must be making for with the hairy face bent low he 
 began to zig-zag towards the hut just as the boy had 
 seen the medicine man do when smelling out the soul 
 of a dead slave. Tanka desired to cry a warning to 
 his father within the hut that he might come out and 
 slay the rash white man before the spells were made, 
 but the knowledge that he was himself breaking a 
 taboo by spying upon the sacred compound of his 
 parent muted his lips. Then to his relief he heard 
 the bass voice of Chwa. 
 
 The white man halted within two paces of the low 
 verandah and greeted the prince in broken Lujojo, 
 adding that he wished to speak with him. A deep- 
 chested grunt answered. As he stood waiting he 
 continued to peer from side to side, and again the 
 young heart of Tanka rattled expecting he knew not 
 what to happen at the behest of this strange being. 
 Presently the eyes of Chwa swam like blossoms in the 
 dense shadows of the interior of the hut and the body 
 grew blackly solid in the oblong of the low door. 
 
 "What seeketh the white man ?" he demanded 
 gruffly. 
 
 Stooping beneath the low thatch the Scolding 
 Monkey seated himself against the short verandah- 
 pole, leaning his firestick across one thigh. His servant 
 upon his knees made obeisance to the prince. 
 
 "I have come to ask the chief," said the white, 
 
 46
 
 "why it is that neither he nor his people come to my 
 market ? Plenty of new and goodly things have I ; 
 cloths of the white man, rods of brass for the making 
 of anklets and bracelets for the women, magic boxes 
 that measure the growing and the dying of the shadows 
 by numbers." 
 
 As he paused to peer in the gloom at the immobile 
 face of the native a vague grunt intimated that his 
 words had been heard. 
 
 "If these things are good in the eyes of thy brethren 
 why do not the wives of the prince have water running 
 from their mouths ?" 
 
 Another non-committal grunt was emitted. The 
 white man fidgeted, staring hard over Chwa's shoulder 
 as if trying to pierce the shadows within the hut. 
 
 "Many new things have come from the white 
 man's country even such as this." Something in the 
 hands of the white man's slave flashed so brightly that 
 the small boy peering through the fence blinked. A 
 mirror was placed at the feet of Chwa, who without con- 
 descending to look, acknowledged the gift by a grunt. 
 
 "And white man's beer," continued the trader 
 persuasively, taking from the bundle a long square- 
 shaped gourd such as Tanka had never seen. From 
 the broken stalk the white man pulled a stopper and 
 took up an object which gleamed in the sun and was, 
 the boy's keen sight noted, transparent. Into this 
 (squeezing a muffled gasp from the lad) the white 
 poured something that was like water and, lo ! in this 
 gourd which you could see through the liquid stayed! 
 "Eh!" he muttered, his small side-muscles quivering, 
 "the magic of the white man is strong! Ehh!" 
 
 47
 
 As Chwa without a word lifted the half-filled glass 
 and drank the contents in one gulp his son nigh 
 shrieked in terror, expecting him to be transformed 
 into a baboon or a rat. Who could tell ? But the 
 only thing to happen was a half grunt of astonishment 
 and a slightly increased gleam in the sombre eyes as 
 the Scolding Monkey placed the bottle beside the 
 mirror. 
 
 The white man fidgeted ; the prince remained 
 motionless. 
 
 "O Prince," began the trader, coming native 
 fashion to the real motive of his visit. "I seek thy 
 help in a grave matter. From my house hath been 
 stolen a thing of value to me, an amulet guarding a 
 white man against sickness and the evil eye ; such that 
 cannot be replaced but is of value only to a white man. 
 It is in form like to a small stone about this size such 
 as children cast at birds." He indicated the first 
 joint of the little finger. "My people say that the 
 thief was a slave of thy household who, coming like 
 a savage in the night, was stabbed by my watchman 
 Moko, a Bavondo. He fled to thee; that we know by 
 the trail of blood; and Moko swears that he knew the 
 man, one Tanaka." 
 
 He stopped inquiringly but only a grunt intimated 
 that his words had been understood. 
 
 "If thou wilt cause thy slaves to be searched and 
 return to me the amulet of no value save to a white man, 
 I will give thee four and twenty like pots of white 
 man's beer and twenty arm stretches of cloth for thy 
 wives... Dost hear?" 
 
 There was a note of anxiety in the voice, but the 
 
 48
 
 native features remained indifferent as Chwa said 
 quietly : 
 
 "Is it not well known that men are measured in 
 the court of the King ? If the slave be found a thief 
 shall he lose his right hand according to the custom 
 and the royal word." 
 
 "But wherefore seek the King ?" argued the trader 
 impatiently. "Thou knowest whether among thy 
 slaves is one wounded ? Why pay to the King what 
 may rest in thy hands ? This Tanaka hath stolen the 
 stone thinking that it will protect him ; but he is 
 ignorant, knowing not the customs of white men. He 
 had the stone yet is he wounded sorely!" 
 
 "There is none wounded in my household," 
 replied Chwa with literal truth. 
 
 "I will give thee forty arms of cloth," urged 
 the Scolding Monkey, showing his carrion teeth in 
 exasperation. 
 
 "Thy cloth clings not to me," returned Chwa 
 haughtily. "I am a Bajojo, not a white man." 
 
 The Scolding Monkey made an irritable ges- 
 ture with his right hand, clutching the gun until his 
 knuckles whitened. 
 
 "I shall complain to the King," he asserted. "Thy 
 household shall be searched." 
 
 "There is none wounded in my household," 
 repeated Chwa. "The King is mighty! who shall 
 gainsay the word of the King, O white man ?" 
 
 The trader was sorely angry and perplexed. His 
 gaze was dragged back from the interior of the hut to 
 the figure of the native. Chwa read the desire in the 
 eyes to search the hut forcibly and also the fear which 
 
 49
 
 held the white man. A mumbled sentence to the 
 Bavondo servant caused the latter hurriedly to seize 
 the bottle of gin and the mirror. 
 
 "What art thou doing, thou black rat ?" exploded 
 the master. 
 
 "The lord bade me take them back," stuttered the 
 man who was of the slave caste, terrified of black and 
 white. 
 
 The trader glared at Chwa, hesitated, but knowing 
 the tribe he dared not offend so powerful a chief. 
 He rose, gritting his teeth, and, with the rage- 
 contorted face which had earned him his native name, 
 departed. 
 
 Tanka behind the fence had interpreted all the 
 motions of the three faces. Mused the boy : "Scolding 
 Monkey is without the white man's amulet; wherefore 
 doth not my father slay him?" When the trader's 
 shadow had vanished through the gate Tanka sank 
 down on to his belly, and glided swiftly to the eaves of 
 his mother's house where he resumed the abandoned 
 game. 
 
 2 
 Doth the fisherman dispute with the fish ? 
 
 At the hour of the waking buck when the falling 
 sun is but two hands' spans above the forest Chwa 
 stalked down the private road to the temple of Tchoon, 
 the newly oiled skin of the tall lithe body rippling to 
 
 50
 
 the play of muscles like night water beneath a thunder- 
 storm. As the eyes, slightly bloodriven, brooded 
 sombrely upon the quarters of the vestals a bird of 
 emerald and yellow with an enormous scarlet beak 
 alighted upon the palisade. Regarding the banana- 
 eater intently he quickened his pace. The bird cocked 
 his head impudently, but made no attempt at 
 flight ; whereat Chwa, having passed him successfully, 
 grunted deep in the chest in recognition of the good 
 omen. 
 
 In the shade beneath the ancient fig tree squatted 
 Sinoja and beside him the shrivelled hunchback, 
 Mtesa. At the approach of Chwa the huge head of the 
 jester was slowly lifted from contemplation of the 
 ground and the baboon eyes, set in a face like a shrunken 
 waterskin, met the snake-bright ones of 'the voice of 
 the god'. As Chwa sunk upon his heels beside them 
 a series of grunts expressed the usual greetings. Polite- 
 ly Sinoja proffered snuff. The visitor accepted without 
 demur. Two solemn sneezes shattered the still air 
 in which floated lazily like specks of dust in a sunray 
 the distant chatter of women and the cries of boys 
 herding the lowing cattle. 
 
 The shadows grew for the full space of a hand's 
 width. 
 
 Again Sinoja furnished his guests with snuff and 
 six appreciative sneezes sounded. Then said the 
 Black Baboon in the manner of one speaking in the 
 Council House : 
 
 "What should a man do whose liver is pecked by 
 the Tchuna bird?" 
 
 Meditatively scratching a scaly thigh Mtesa seemed 
 
 5 1
 
 not to expect any reply save the two almost inaudible 
 grunts. 
 
 "If then the soul of a strong man escape," con- 
 tinued the jester keenly observing the face of Chwa, 
 "mighty is the medicine man who shall bring it back 
 before the trap of the enemy is sprung!" 
 
 Chwa gave no sign that he had understood the 
 warning nor any answer save to grunt a formal farewell 
 as the hunchback rose to his feet. 
 
 "There are spirits of white devils moving in the 
 air," added Mtesa. "Hast thy god, O Sinoja, no new 
 words of blood ?" 
 
 "Am I a god ?" responded Sinoja a trifle sullenly. 
 
 "Am I a jester ?" retorted the Black Baboon 
 smoothly. The great head swung to and fro as if 
 about to roll off the wizened shoulders and the spear- 
 sharp eyes returned to Chwa on whose crow-black 
 features was a veil of haughty resentment as light as a 
 lizard's trail. "Already can I hear the ghost drums of 
 Mukwenda (god of war) and dancing before them are 
 white men!" 
 
 "Doth a clown steal the words of a god ?" de- 
 manded Sinoja his bald eyelids tautening. 
 
 "What man may foretell the flight of a bird ?" 
 answered the Black Baboon gazing fixedly at Chwa 
 whose face was brushed by fear as lightly as from the 
 wind of a small bird's wing. "A prince on earth is 
 often a clown in ghostland!" 
 
 Turning he walked slowly away, the hump, like 
 an ash-staine'd cooking pot, hiding, save for the wrinkled 
 crown, his head. As imperceptibly as a chameleon 
 changing colour upon a twig the tense resentment 
 
 52
 
 left Chwa's body: the muscles relaxed; suppleness 
 trickled through the limbs like sap into a tree. Sinoja 
 sat motionless, as devoid of expression as a desert 
 rock. At length Chwa spoke, slowly, yet with the 
 smouldering of banked anger ; bluntly, as if seeking 
 to smash down the wily priest by sheer weight as a 
 rhinoceros charges a foe. 
 
 "Wherefore, O Sinoja, who art 'the voice', was 
 the net of the fowler spread even beyond the third 
 Mbuli tree ?" 
 
 "Thou did'st hear the words of the god, not 
 I," returned Sinoja as one long prepared to answer 
 silly questions. "Mayhap the eyes of the King 
 are like to those of a hawk ever seeking tender 
 flesh." 
 
 The thrust, recalling the royal brother's sudden 
 halt and the look towards the tree where had sat Tsabi, 
 stirred Chwa's features as lightly as the patter of a 
 rain drop ; but the medium had observed. Who 
 would know indeed should one of the sacred victims 
 be taken at the King's order and a substitute slain in 
 her place ? 
 
 "May not the King do that which is denied to a 
 prince ?" continued Sinoja. "Every man hath a large 
 belly, but only the few the wherewithal to fill the pots 
 of his desire save mighty warriors who have the 
 arm to seize them for their own." 
 
 Chwa's great chest began to swell as a man's 
 wrist after a bite of the mamba and in the eyes 
 grew brightness like to a rising moon upon the 
 river. 
 
 "Yet should'st thou have an hunger for the girl 
 
 53
 
 thou mayest surely make words before the King. 
 Thou art fat, swollen with cattle and gardens. He 
 hath a clutching hand. What is one goat to the owner 
 of thousands ?" 
 
 Chwa did not respond. The moon in the eyes 
 had set ; the features grown as dead as a crater save for 
 a slight distension of the nostrils. 
 
 "Yonder tortoise," pursued Sinoja, "leaves his 
 eyes in the King's bed." 
 
 "How may I claim the word before the 
 King," Chwa queried, and in the voice was suspi- 
 cion like the taste of an aloe, "after breaking the 
 sacred ground of the vestals as thou didst bid 
 me." 
 
 'Tis true," conceded Sinoja, allowing warmth in 
 his voice. "Yet who am I to have known the heart 
 of a King ? Yet strong indeed must be his magic, 
 he who shall defy the will of Tchoon! Eh! even as 
 the Black Baboon hath said, the ghost drums of 
 Mukwenda may already be beating. Is the royal 
 one not like unto a broken bamboo taking the presents 
 of the whites ? covering his royal body in the filthy 
 things of the whites ? who shall be a great king and 
 suffer the priests of strange gods in the land ?" The 
 volume of the voice was rising like a river after the 
 rains. "Shall all the people become dung-eaters ? 
 Shall we turn our women loose to become concubines 
 of the Wavondo, keeping but one to tend the 
 plantations and cook the pot ? To whom shall we 
 turn when the spirits of our forefathers are wrath ? 
 Shall we throw their jawbones in the fields for 
 the jackals to eat ? Will Mukwenda lead us to war 
 
 54
 
 and slay our enemies with arrows from the clouds 
 if we shall piss upon the thatch of the shrine of 
 him?" 
 
 Sinoja ceased. The lashless eyelids were taut, 
 disclosing pupils like to quartz. That Chwa was 
 moved by the peroration was revealed by the tenseness 
 of the body and the twitching of the right calf. Then 
 continued Sinoja quietly : 
 
 "And who shall succeed this bundle of plantain 
 fronds ? A son of a woman not of the royal clan ? 
 A broken spear who screamed under the knife of 
 circumcision ? Eh !" 
 
 Again he paused as if awaiting a reply. But Chwa 
 remained silent, staring at the bole of the great tree. 
 The sun was now fleeing behind the forest from 
 the hosts of Takwa. Lowings, bleatings, cries, and 
 shufflings of hooves floated above racing shadows. 
 Chwa rose slowly to his feet. Sinoja complacently 
 tapped snuff. As he watched the tall agile figure 
 striding out of the compound he grunted to himself : 
 "Deep hath he drunk of the blood of the girl so shall 
 she serve well for the goat to bait the lion pit. Eh! 
 the old lion is nigh hamstrung by the whites, but this 
 one taketh not snuff with them." He sneezed three 
 times with the air of an incantation. "The taste of her 
 is goodly on the tongue, but who shall serve the 
 gods save me? Eh!" he added, referring to the 
 tribal laws of succession which permitted only the 
 direct descendants of Tchoon by a wife of the 
 same clan, the Lion, to grasp the sacred spear. 
 "There is none save the old Lion's whelp and 
 he!" 
 
 55
 
 3 
 Love is red in peace and war. 
 
 In the doorway of his hut, alone sat Chwa and ate 
 his evening meal brought by Kanani, his chief wife, 
 of the clan of the Lion. Once the excited yelp and 
 laughter of Tanka, her son, caused his spear-like eyes 
 to resemble those of a buck. The chatter of the women 
 in their adjacent compound died with the sun. When 
 the timid expectant eyes of Batomba, the childless 
 wife, swam in the starlight, he dismissed her gruffly. 
 So he squatted on as motionless as a hill, for the words 
 of Sinoja in his mind were like to newly made beer. 
 
 When only the hum and mutter of the forest 
 were heard, Chwa entered the hut; selected a short 
 stabbing spear from many stacked behind the bamboo 
 partition; stepped out into the tepid night; and, as 
 silently as a wild cat, followed the denser shadows of 
 the high palisade into the plantation. Like a stealthy 
 forest animal, the sweat and oil glimmering blue 
 patches upon his body, he ran in the starlight. 
 
 Presently he reached the forest edge and, a thou- 
 sand paces within, stood upon the fringe of a clearing 
 where, dimly discernible in the gloom like the grey 
 of ashes against charred wood, were scattered human 
 bones. Around the clearing resembling an enormous 
 bat he flitted, until he came to a strong and high 
 stockade the prison house of those doomed to be 
 sacrificed as slaves for the God of earth at the King's 
 pleasure. 
 
 56
 
 In the shadow-pool of a huge tree he halted listen- 
 ing intently. Just penetrating above the forest anthem 
 he detected the sound of many sleepers. Like a 
 raiding jackal Chwa stole around to the other side 
 where lay the entrance guarded by the King's police. 
 The gate was formed of timber baulks. Holding 
 the broad-bladed spear between his teeth, Chwa, 
 inserting powerful ringers and prehensile toes in the 
 crevices, swarmed up as a monkey up a palm tree. 
 Over the top he peered and found below him (a little 
 to one side) two guards squatting around a low fire. 
 Edging cautiously along to the gate post he raised his 
 body up noiselessly, poised spear in hand, and sprang. 
 
 The blade passed beneath the left shoulder of the 
 nearest man who coughed and pitched over the fire. 
 The cry of the second was slain in his throat by Chwa's 
 two hands. Disarmed and half throttled, the man 
 was held as a python holds a buck until Chwa was 
 satisfied that the other sleeping guards had not been 
 alarmed. Dragging the fellow away to a more remote 
 corner of the compound he placed him on the ground ; 
 and, kneeling, held the spear point over the heart, 
 ordering him in a whisper to be silent and to answer 
 questions on pain of death. 
 
 "Among the sacred doomed is one vestal of the 
 shrine of Tchoon ? Dost thou know her, slave ?" 
 
 "Nay, lord, there is none such here." 
 
 "Thou liest! She was taken by you dogs at the 
 visit of the King." 
 
 The man squirmed violently beneath the pressure 
 of the spear point. 
 
 "I have no wrong, lord," he gasped. "There was 
 
 57
 
 such an one whom men called the daughter of the 
 
 Banana, but she was taken hence at the dying of the 
 
 sun." 
 
 "By whom?" 
 
 "Indeed, lord, by Sinoja, the 'voice of the god'." 
 
 A deep grunt blended with a choked sob as the 
 
 blade plunged through the body. 
 
 4 
 Even a king payeth a god. 
 
 At the call of the first jackal was Chwa seated by a 
 small fire beneath a lean-to shelter of branches and 
 grass in the gloom of the deep forest. At a little 
 distance squatted seven slaves and about them were 
 loads (one of cowrie shells, one of corn and one of 
 young plantains of a special kind) and a cow, wholly 
 white, in calf, tethered to a sapling. High above 
 them the dense, leaf-mottled sky was flaming the 
 colour of a flamingo. A little apart, screened by a 
 leaf fence, sat Batomba, she without child, for it is 
 not meet that the wife of a great warrior and prince 
 should eat with her lord. 
 
 As Chwa thrust the last finger of boiled plantain 
 into his mouth he grunted, and Batomba, quickly 
 rising, came and removed the fronds; then, in response 
 to another command, seated herself humbly on the 
 other side of the fire. Her big timid eyes regarded 
 
 58
 
 him shyly aslant and when he spoke she seemed like 
 an agitated white flower. 
 
 "O Batomba," said he gravely, "nearest thou 
 what is said in the market place among the people 
 concerning the doings of the white men ?" 
 
 "Aye, lord," she responded eagerly, "some say 
 that the whites are demons seeking to destroy our 
 gods, making magic upon the King and elders." 
 
 "Eh! How so?" 
 
 "Are not the King and many covered in the 
 strange skins of the whites ? This, they say, is surely 
 some powerful magic, for are not the white wizards 
 causing a man or woman to put on these things to 
 turn them into dung-eaters ? This makes their hearts 
 become unstuck, for will not the King then become a 
 dung-eater and command that no man has more than 
 one woman; and what then shall women do having 
 no masters ? This also they say : the whites kill 
 every second of their female children, for how other- 
 wise should there be in their land only one woman 
 for each man ?" 
 
 "Eh!" 
 
 "And others fear that the gods themselves will 
 become wrath that we drive not these bad people out 
 of the country, for bad they must be since who but 
 an evil man should be driven out of the land of his 
 folk to live with strangers ?" 
 
 "Eh! Truly!" assented Chwa. "What sayeth 
 Kanani ?" 
 
 "Ehh!" rattled on Batomba, "ever she jesteth in 
 this wise calling Tanka, thy son, the whelp of the Lion, 
 for there is talk among the folk that thou shalt be 
 
 59
 
 king, driving out the false whites and their magic." 
 
 "Eh!" commented Chwa and ruminated. 
 
 "They say also," burst out Batomba, "that 
 many moons ago when the whites first came was 
 the season of the rotting plantains. Who then 
 should have made magic upon them but the 
 whites ?" 
 
 "Enough !" said Chwa, and instantly little Batomba 
 rose and retired to her place. 
 
 The fretted sky turned to the colour of young 
 grass ; then, as though water had been cast upon the 
 sun, like a herd of grazing buck from out the forest 
 edge appeared the stars. The gloom of the forest 
 now entirely swallowed the form of Chwa save for 
 the glow of the fire upon the ebony thighs and belly. 
 Rising, he spoke a low word, and slaves hurried to 
 place the loads upon their heads and to untie the cow. 
 Another, seizing a large glowing brand from the other 
 fire, walked forward into the forest followed by Chwa, 
 Batomba, and the porters. Fifty paces within but 
 entirely hidden from the place where they had camped 
 (so dense was the jungle), they came to a small circular 
 clearing in which the convex roof of a large hut loomed 
 against the stars. On the threshold of the compound 
 the leading slave stepped aside and Chwa in a deep- 
 toned voice cried out : 
 
 "Greeting, O Butaro, destroyer and creator of 
 souls! Greeting from Chwa, the son of Ntoka and 
 his wife, Batomba, daughter of Pakkata of the clan 
 of the Monkey. Presents have we in honour of thee 
 and a cow in calf pleasing in thy sight! We bow 
 before thee!" 
 
 60
 
 In answer to this short harangue came a woman's 
 treble : 
 
 "Enter, ye seekers!" 
 
 Chwa stepped forward and taking the fibre which 
 held the cow by the horns led her within followed by 
 Batomba. As the three loads were placed just within 
 the threshold, lights wavered like gigantic fireflies, 
 grew and became torches of resinous wood carried by 
 young girls whose immature bodies gleamed bronze 
 and greeny black in the uncertain light, chanting; and 
 behind them tottered a hag bent like a lightning- 
 blasted tree, so socket-eyed and crooked of limbs 
 that she might have been the wife of Tchoon. In the 
 flickering light she examined the cow, muttering unin- 
 telligibly. A croaking sound indicated her approval 
 of the offering. Then at a sign from her the girls 
 swooped upon the three loads. Chwa, and Batomba 
 with her eyes fluttering like captured butterflies, 
 followed her to the hut and stooping at the low door 
 entered. 
 
 Within a slight basin formed of stones was the 
 sacred fire ever tended by the vestals. The room was 
 circular, resembling the outer chamber of the temple 
 of Tchoon, but less richly ornamented. Against the 
 mud wall at the far end upon a low table decorated 
 with cowrie shells embroidered with red seeds, were 
 the jaw-bone, the umbilical cord, and the yoni - - the 
 sacred relics of Butaro, the goddess wooed by men to 
 destroy the souls of their dead fraternal enemies and 
 by barren women to gain children. Between this 
 altar and the fire was a couch of grass newly gathered 
 each day by the female attendants of the temple. 
 
 61
 
 Followed the six vestals. They threw more consecrated 
 faggots upon the fire, stoked it so that flames broke out, 
 and grouped themselves in a line behind the two 
 suppliants squatted with heads bowed in obeisance 
 to the ground. The flickering flames shone upon 
 the figure of the hag crouching with her back to the 
 altar ; two holes were the eyes; the nose was almost 
 buried in the puckered folds of the mouth ; the skull 
 appeared as though it had been lately disinterred. An 
 amulet of yellow teeth was suspended upon a dark 
 grey bosom like to the belly of a long-dead monkey. 
 From her a low whimper coiled like a wisp of 
 smoke to which the resonant whisper of Chwa 
 replied. 
 
 In the sweaty silence that followed, the crone 
 began to sway to and fro. As a vestal threw more 
 faggots on the dying fire rose a voice as thin as the edge 
 of a spear blade, seeming to eddy above them as if 
 indeed it were a spirit hovering above in the smoked 
 ceiling : 
 
 O Butaro, destroyer of souls that are black! 
 
 Seek out the tomb of the son of Matamba ! 
 
 Seek out the tomb of the son of Bamamba ! 
 
 Tear out their jawbones and chew them to dust! 
 
 Spit it wide on the deep flowing river 
 
 That their souls may be borne to the lands of the white ! 
 
 That they howl not by night making black charms 
 
 To blunt the spear blades of the sons of the Lion ! 
 
 That they enter not into the wombs of his wives, 
 
 That they curdle not beer, set ants to his heart ! 
 
 That they tie not the thatch of his principal hut, 
 
 Nor the grass of the paths leading to war! 
 
 Greeting Butaro, destroyer of souls! 
 
 62
 
 Utter silence closed like a hot clammy hand upon 
 the hut broken only by the heavy breathing from 
 Chwa's great chest which pulsed like the gusts of a 
 coming storm. In the smoky gloom the vulture body 
 of the hag swayed to and fro. A distant shriek of a 
 parrot and rustling of forest branches penetrated dimly. 
 Again rose the eerie voice : 
 
 O Butaro, creator of souls that are black! 
 Call from thy womb a sturdy man child ! 
 Make by thy magic that the mother of him 
 Shall be the daughter of Kantazi Batomba! 
 Let him be virile and powerful and black! 
 Let him have the liver of Bukwaka! 
 The heart and the guts of Tchoon! 
 O Butaro, creator of souls that are black!
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 i 
 Shall a humming bird peck out the eyes of a lion ? 
 
 In the shade of the walls of the compound of the 
 Council House squatted fifty of the palace guards. 
 Sons of chiefs who paid heavily in cattle and slaves 
 for the privilege all were stark naked and their oiled 
 bodies and spear blades (half a man's span in length) 
 gleamed in the morning sun. Opposite, in the full 
 glare, were some half a dozen natives. One was an old 
 man whose skull of grey wool was shaven in geomet- 
 rical lines and whose skinny arms, loaded with bangles, 
 were partially covered in wild cat skins. Near them, 
 in the slight shade of a papayi tree (shifting a space 
 as the sun pursued him) sat a white man upon a green 
 camp stool. Tall he was, clad in clothes the colour 
 of sun-eaten grass. His beard was like to ripe corn 
 growing in sandy soil, and his eyes to newly made 
 beer. Beside him squatted a man of a coast tribe 
 wearing a gown. For the twentieth time the Stork, 
 rubbing palm upon palm, inquired with growing 
 irritation : 
 
 "Canst thou not hasten them, my friend ? The 
 sun grows hot, the shadows shrink." 
 
 64
 
 "Nay, nay, master," responded Maliko, his uneasy 
 eyes upon the Council House. "The King is great. 
 We have no presents." 
 
 "Teh ! Teh !" muttered the Stork with the white 
 man's impatience, and again : "Wherefore is not 
 Sinoja here according to his word ?" 
 
 "I know not, master. Am I a wizard ?" 
 
 "Thou art still a pagan, I fear," retorted the 
 sweating white man. "Bah!. . . Nay, nay," he added 
 contritely at the reproachful look in the man's liquid 
 eyes. "But I am hot and the ants are biting. Forgive 
 me, my brother!" 
 
 The flies buzzed and the murmur of talk filtered 
 through the hot air. The white man flipped irritably 
 with a fly switch of a zebra's tail. 
 
 "Teh! Teh!" muttered the Stork again, and to 
 Maliko : "Knowest thou who is within with the King ?" 
 
 Maliko's eyes shifted anxiously as he replied: 
 "The Brass-Eater, master." 
 
 "The Brass-Eater!" exclaimed the Stork indig- 
 nantly. "Why didst thou not tell me ?" 
 
 "Thou didst not ask me, master." 
 
 "Teh! That son of the Evil One! Teh! Doth 
 he bring more presents of demon- water ?" 
 
 "I know not, master," returned Maliko, although 
 he guessed well enough. 
 
 Through the doorway of the Council House 
 strode a tall man with a beard of brass, in shirt sleeves, 
 placing on his head a veldt hat. He was smiling. 
 Although the Stork turned away his eyes the Brass - 
 Eater, conscious of the dozens of the palace guard 
 watching keenly, walked up and thrust out his hand. 
 
 65
 
 The other white man took it reluctantly. A few 
 words were exchanged, the big man smiling, the 
 smaller tight-lipped. 
 
 "See!" murmured one of the guard. "The 
 Stork pulleth the lip, but the Brass-Eater mocketh 
 him! Eh! Strange are the ways of white folk, each 
 man whetting his spear!" 
 
 The Brass-Eater passed on alone. As the Stork 
 rose Maliko twitched at his coat. 
 
 "Nay, master, our time is not yet!" 
 
 Entering the Council House was the old subchief 
 escorted by one of the guards. The Stork stared angrily. 
 
 "Am I the least of this savage's visitors!" he 
 exclaimed to Maliko. "Tell him," he added in exas- 
 peration, "that I won't wait any longer." 
 
 "Nay, nay, master," said Maliko, soothingly, "we 
 must wait lest the King refuse us his presence." 
 
 "See!" murmured another guard to his fellows, 
 "the liver of the Stork stirs! He sees blood!" 
 
 "Thou art right, O Maliko," assented the Stork 
 humbly. "May the Lord give me patience." 
 
 "A -men!" chanted Maliko piously. 
 
 Within the Council House the King of the Wajojo, 
 dressed in his bead embroidered .white robe and lion 
 skin, was seated on a stool of ebony and ivory upon a 
 slightly raised dais. In his right hand was held the 
 sacred three-bladed spear the only weapon, save 
 those of the royal guards, allowed in the royal pre- 
 cincts. About him were assembled his councillors 
 and chiefs. On his left (and therefore nearest to his 
 heart), with his feet tucked beneath his hams and clad 
 in a white robe, was the ancient of withered features 
 
 66
 
 and grey tufted beard, Panga, the prime -minister; 
 and on the King's right was Chwa in full panoply of 
 scarlet feathers of the flamingo with a lion skin about 
 his shoulders. Almost at the royal feet, huddled up 
 like a baboon, squatted Mtesa in the painted face of 
 office. Before them crouched the old man. The voice 
 of Panga, shrill and with a throaty timbre, rang out: 
 
 "The King is a river drowning the prince and 
 the peasant!" 
 
 "Ough! Ough!" grunted the chiefs in assent. 
 
 "The King is a breaker of pots, for what is one 
 pot to the owner of many!" 
 
 "Ough! Ough!" 
 
 "The King is a beautiful woman never lacking 
 admirers loaded with presents!" 
 
 "Ough! Ough!" 
 
 "This man is as a cow eating grass while the slayer 
 approaches, heeding not the flight of birds!" 
 
 "Ough! Ough!" 
 
 "This man is a berry beautiful to see but rotten 
 within." 
 
 "Ough! Ough!" 
 
 "This man is a pot with a hole in it who would 
 tickle the master because there is no beer within!" 
 
 "Ough! Ough!" 
 
 "What shall a man do with such an one ? 
 Break not the pot and scrape the bits 
 Of the curds of the beer which remain?" 
 
 "Ough! Ough!" assented the assembly. 
 
 Then the King cried in a thick voice : 
 
 "Thus shall it be, O Chiefs! I have spoken!" 
 
 67
 
 The old man, who had waxed too rich in cattle 
 and slaves and had therefore been accused of the theft 
 of taxes in his distant district, knowing that death by 
 spearing awaited him and the confiscation of his estates 
 and his family, bowed his head silently to the ground. 
 Two of the royal guards ran in and made obeisance 
 before the King. As they led the culprit away to the 
 grove of malefactors, cried the Black Baboon in a 
 falsetto voice: 
 
 "Take heed that thy pots in ghostland, old man, 
 have no holes, lest thou dribblest, upon our roofs!" 
 
 As the lips of Matanga parted, the smile was 
 echoed fifty-fold in the ranks of the courtiers. Panga 
 whispered to the King, who moved restlessly, glancing 
 outside with a slight scowl. 
 
 "Let the white man be brought," announced the 
 prime-minister. 
 
 A tall guard rose and stalked across in the sun 
 haughtily. Presently appeared the Stork and Maliko 
 carrying the green camp stool. As they walked to the 
 place lately occupied by the doomed district chief, 
 several of the notables grunted disapproval and 
 Matanga regarded them sulkily. The Stork scowled 
 down at a case of gin lying near the dais. Maliko 
 cringed and, squatting beside his master, made a 
 deep obeisance before the King. In the fly buzzing 
 silence which followed, the seed-pods of the jester 
 rattled as he rose onto his skinny limbs. Approaching 
 the white man on all fours he peered into his face. 
 The Stork involuntarily drew back from the grimacing, 
 painted features, an act noted by every eye. Then 
 the Black Baboon cried in a falsetto voice: 
 
 68
 
 "Behold, ye children, hither cometh a merchant 
 of gods! Fools that ye are, for a thousand shells ye 
 may buy a woman, but for nought will the white man 
 give you a god covered in skins of a tree (bark) even as a 
 monkey is with hair! Wherefore not abandon your 
 women and take unto yourselves the white man's 
 gods, O ye people whose livers yearn for many cattle 
 wotting nought of the doings of Tchoon ?" 
 
 The ancient shook himself so that his pods of 
 office rattled yet again and, as he lolloped back to his 
 place, many grunted approvingly while the eyes of 
 others were set upon the white robe of the King who 
 scowled once more at the Stork, the features of whom 
 were like to those of a man whose feet straddle two 
 paths. 
 
 "The shadows shrink and the belly of the King 
 waxeth small, O white man," came the voice of Panga, 
 the minister. "What are the presents that thou hast 
 to lay before the King?" 
 
 As the Stork straightened up rubbing one palm 
 against another, after his manner, several men grunted, 
 murmuring : 
 
 "Why doth the white man make magic before the 
 King?" 
 
 "I come not with presents, O Chief, as thou well 
 knowest, for I am a bearer of sacred words from the 
 true god even as I have told thee when last I looked 
 upon thy face." 
 
 "Ho, children," interrupted the jester grimacing, 
 "did I not tell thee a merchant of gods ?" 
 
 "And yet," replied Matanga, leaning forward 
 slightly, "my people tell me that thou offerest presents 
 
 69
 
 of food and drink to thy god. Wherefore then shouldst 
 thou not offer presents to the King that thou mayest 
 abide in my land?" 
 
 "Thou art but a king upon earth," retorted the 
 Stork, his forehead wrinkling, "but he is King of 
 ghostland, and thy people are ignorant, speaking of 
 what they know not. If thou wilt but open thine 
 ears to me shall I tell thee true words concerning thy 
 life and the terrors that await thee in ghostland an 
 thou wilt not accept the sacred words. Beware, O 
 chief, for the wrath of my god is more terrible than 
 the than the boiling of the river !" 
 
 "I have many warriors," said Matanga frowning 
 slightly. "Thinkest thou then that he can eat them 
 all up ?" 
 
 "There is nothing that he cannot do," replied the 
 Stork sternly, "and yet he is more more loving and 
 kind than than " Failing to find an apt native 
 simile the words of the white man sounded like the 
 stumbling of maimed feet. "And forgives his enemies 
 even as his own children." 
 
 "Why dost thou come, white man," replied 
 Matanga, "to offer us weak gods when we have 
 many that are strong. Could thy god slay all our 
 gods ?" 
 
 "Aye, as a brand of fire slayeth ants!" retorted 
 the Stork again rubbing his palms violently. 
 
 "Why then doth he not ?" 
 
 "Because he is one is one " 
 
 As once more the white boggled in the search for 
 a word that was not in the native tongue, cried the 
 jester jeeringly: 
 
 70
 
 "Whose heart shall become unstuck at the yowling 
 of a hyena which fleeth at the shout of a boy ?" 
 
 "Thou hast but water in thy head!" retorted the 
 Stork angrily. "O Chief, I will tell thee of something 
 that the white man hath but the black understandeth 
 not. If thou hast an enemy who shall steal that which 
 is precious to thee and he shall come and rub his head 
 in the dust before thee saying white words, thou wilt 
 then not punish that man but send him away with 
 presents knowing that thou hast taken weapons out 
 of his hands, making him to love instead of hate thee." 
 
 For a moment the small eyes of Matanga as he 
 regarded the white man were stained with fear like 
 a child is at the cough of a lion ; then they cleared and 
 he said : 
 
 "Thou hast spoken true words, O white man, 
 for such an one is taken by the head by a ghost on 
 whom none may lay hands." 
 
 As the courtiers grunted approval the face of the 
 Stork was as if he looked upon an ox flying in the air. 
 Cried Mtesa, shaking his seed-pods and rolling his 
 globular head : 
 
 "The words of the King are as spear points! 
 Eh! Wherefore do the white men send a madman to 
 bring words to us ? Have they not cast him out 
 fearing for the lives of their women and cattle by 
 witchcraft ?" 
 
 The flesh of the white became whiter and he shook 
 his head as if tormented by flies as Maliko whispered 
 to him. 
 
 "Thy words, old man," he responded quietly, 
 "are as seed blown in the wind."
 
 "Thy words, O white man," retorted the jester 
 swiftly, "are true words, for doth not the seed fall 
 into the earth and become a tree ?" 
 
 Grunts greeted this sally, but the Stork turning 
 his head sought to ignore him. 
 
 "Even as I have said, O Chief, have I come bring- 
 ing greater words than I have spoken. It has reached 
 me that thou hast commanded that many women, old 
 and young, men and boys, be slain for slaves of the 
 false god. This is an evil thing. Slay not that ye 
 be not slain, for who shall take up the spear shall be 
 slain by the spear. These are " 
 
 "Eh! Eh!" murmured several behind him. 
 
 "These are the true words of the true god. And 
 if thou shalt refuse thy soul shall burn in everlasting 
 fire." 
 
 "Eh! Eh!" murmured others. 
 
 One hand of the King clutched his knee and the 
 sombre eyes of Chwa smouldered. 
 
 "Hast thou many gods, O white man ?" said 
 Matanga and the voice was slightly thicker than before. 
 
 "Nay, there is but one god," said the Stork and 
 the eyes of him were seen to shine like a fire through 
 the walls of a hut. "But this thou shalt promise me, 
 
 Chief, for thy good and the good of the people . . . 
 
 1 await thy words, O Chief!" 
 
 "Whose gods then, O white man," said the King 
 slowly, "are these of thy white brothers, they who have 
 not split clothes and carry fetishes upon their chests ?" 
 
 "They are indeed chiefs of the same god, the true 
 god," returned the Stork. "But what is thy answer ?" 
 
 "If they are wizards of the same god why then do 
 
 72
 
 ye not foregather together as brothers ? It is said that 
 ye quarrel each with the other." 
 
 "Aye!" interposed the Black Baboon quickly, 
 "even as the priest of Tchoon disputeth with the priest 
 of Mukwenda!" 
 
 As the white hesitated were teeth exposed on the 
 faces of many about. 
 
 "This is a matter of of tribes," explained the 
 Stork as one following a trail over rock. "They are 
 of different tribes. That is all. But ours is the only 
 true god. Now, O Chief, that I have eaten thy 
 words, wilt thou give me thine regarding this matter of 
 evil ?" 
 
 Again did Maliko pluck at the sleeve of his master's 
 coat. 
 
 "Tell us, O white man," said the King slowly, 
 "in thy country hast thou temples to this strange god ?" 
 
 "Many and great temples," replied the Stork 
 shortly. "Thy answer, O Chief?" 
 
 The face of the King resembled an elephant's 
 ear. The Stork was like to a man sitting upon thorns. 
 In the silence came the rattling of the seed-pods of the 
 jester and he wobbled his painted face from side to 
 side. Suddenly came his falsetto voice: 
 
 "Who shall rebuke the white man if he should 
 cast from him the garb of his people and, eating his 
 words, walk as a man of Tchoon even as doth the 
 prince Chwa ?" 
 
 At the inverted allusion to the clothes of the King 
 and others came grunts from many of the naked elders 
 sitting in the Council. The eyes of Matanga quickened 
 as mildly as a burning grass-blade in sunlight. Again 
 
 73
 
 rose the voice of the jester mockingly as he regarded 
 the King: 
 
 "Whosoever shall desert his god shall perish by 
 another god!" 
 
 The gaze of the Stork shuttled like a bat from the 
 face of Mtesa to the King and back. Maliko stared 
 at the King as though he were a bird regarding a 
 snake and his flesh was like a fire-blackened frond. 
 He plucked insistently at his master's sleeve as very 
 slowly the King rose to his feet and, followed by 
 Chwa and those about him, walked haughtily into the 
 open. 
 
 2 
 How may a spear slay a ghost? 
 
 Within his own compound, which was contiguous 
 to the great fig tree of Tchoon, upon a couch of skins 
 beneath the brief verandah, slumbered Sinoja. Beside 
 him were the remains of his midday meal, a calabash 
 of the picked bones of goat and damp leaves which 
 had contained stewed plantain. And to him, with 
 the weight of a charging rhinoceros, strode Chwa 
 whose half-lidded eyes in the swarthy features resem- 
 bled the flashes of lightning before an advancing storm 
 cloud ; the nostrils were like a bowstring and the 
 knuckles of the hand, gripped upon a short stabbing 
 spear, were ashy. As silently as the alighting of a 
 hawk Chwa sank upon his heels before the sleeping 
 
 74
 
 figure ; motionless he sat with gaze as fierce as that 
 bird awaiting the death of his prey. One bald eyelid 
 rose as though it were the petal of a flower. 
 
 "I greet thee, O son of Tapoza," growled Chwa, 
 in a voice recalling the volume of distant thunder, 
 and the wrath which was eating him was as a leopard 
 at bay in a thicket. The two naked lids of Sinoja 
 opened; the shoulders rose and the legs were 
 drawn beneath him with the movement of a 
 serpent. 
 
 "I greet thee, O son of Ntoka Nkwaza," returned 
 Sinoja formally. 
 
 The bleating of a distant goat, brought into the 
 village during the noonday heat, penetrated the hot 
 air like the bubbling of porridge in a pot. The belly 
 muscles of Sinoja contracted the coppery skin into 
 folds like a hag's ; the one big toe quivered slightly 
 under the pressure of half the body's weight and the 
 snake-bright eyes meeting the smouldering ones of 
 Chwa seemed to glint like spear points entering 
 firelight. A child began to whimper. The shadows 
 grew a nail's breadth. 
 
 "He who stealeth from the god and the King 
 shall die the death of the bamboo knife," Chwa opened 
 the battle. 
 
 "The blood of the clan of the Lion may not be 
 spilled yet he may be strangled," countered Sinoja; 
 "but the 'voice of a god' may not be slain." 
 
 The sombre eyes of Chwa glittered and the teeth 
 were clenched. 
 
 "The daughter of the Banana is no longer within 
 the fold of the slaves of Tchoon." 
 
 75
 
 "Even as the souls of the two slain by a royal 
 hand have told me," retorted Sinoja. 
 
 A shadow as slight and as swift as the flight of 
 a bat passing before the moon crossed the face of Chwa. 
 
 "Did they tell thee by whose command she hath 
 departed ?" 
 
 "Aye," assented Sinoja complacently, "even at the 
 order of the royal one." 
 
 As faint as the rustle of a single leaf crept into 
 the face of Chwa the look of a hunted buck in the 
 middle of a village. 
 
 "It is known that men gazing upon ghostland give 
 not lying words." 
 
 "Did not a maid beneath a Mbuli tree find 
 favour in the sight of a certain one ? Who shall deny 
 him? If the lust for a maid be upon a man should 
 he not barter with the King ?" 
 
 "Is not the lion stronger and fleeter than a croco- 
 dile ?" Chwa demanded, referring to their respective 
 clans. 
 
 "Aye, if the paw of the lion be not within the 
 jaws of the crocodile, for then where is his fleetness 
 and strength ? The souls of the guards of the vestals 
 are malevolent requiring much magic. What is more 
 terrible than the wrath of Tchoon!" 
 
 The jaw muscles of Chwa tightened as also the 
 hand upon the spear haft as he replied: 
 
 "But if the lion sacrifice the paw he hath power to 
 slay." 
 
 "But who may escape from the wrath of a god ? 
 Is not a servitor of a god even as part of him ?" 
 
 Chwa's gaze wavered as an ill-balanced spear in 
 
 76
 
 flight. Again came a silence save for the renewed 
 bleating of goats and the low of cattle leaving for the 
 grass land. Afar off a drum began to throb. The 
 belly muscles of Sinoja had relaxed and the big toe 
 slumbered. 
 
 "Have the words of the Black Baboon not entered 
 thine ears ? Hath he not foretold that the spirits of 
 whites are hovering as the hawk above the chickens ? 
 Do not the King and many of the tribe," continued 
 Sinoja conversationally, noting that Chwa was no 
 longer looking upon blood, "cover their bodies as do 
 boys their faces in the lodge of warriors, casting the 
 ways of Tchoon ? Are there not others who have 
 become eaters of dung ? What sayeth a god to those of 
 his children who kneel before other gods ? Should not 
 a man, having eaten the words of one god, not piss 
 upon those of another, made drunken by the strange 
 god to destroy himself? Aye, even to stealing those 
 destined as his slaves ? Eh ! go thou and seek of him 
 who hath cast aside the things of Tchoon. Hast 
 thou no faith in the power of thy god, the mighty 
 Tchoon, to whom thou art loyal?" 
 
 He paused, regarding Chwa as one watches the 
 path of a passing storm. 
 
 "Hast thou then talked with the Stork that he 
 hath bewitched thee by the rubbing of palms ? Go 
 thou, O Chwa, prince of the blood of Lions, and make 
 offerings to Butaro that she may exorcise thee and give 
 thee strength to lead the people from the magic of the 
 whites." 
 
 At the mention of his title the spine of Chwa had 
 straightened, but he saw not the eyes of Sinoja which 
 
 77
 
 were like a fisherman's observing the big fish enter 
 the trap. Then, after the passing of a troubadour's 
 verse, Chwa rose, saying no word, and strode away 
 as one walking on two paths. 
 
 and then the jackal asked the dog to show him the 
 way through the forest, and when the dog complied and 
 fell in the game pit, the jackal laughed. Yolk Story 
 
 By the river, ten arrow shots from the village of 
 Matanga, was a clearing in the forest known as the 
 Place of the Vat. A high palisade of plaited grass 
 and bamboo enclosed two houses and a number of 
 native huts. The smaller house was built after the 
 manner of the whites with the roof extended on every 
 side a man's length beyond the walls; the other was 
 larger than the Council House of the King and, upon 
 the end of the roof towards the sun, was a small hut 
 no bigger than a marriage drum where dwelt an iron 
 gourd within which a tongue cried loudly like to a 
 blacksmith at work the voice of the white god, Kato- 
 liki. And at the summons white-robed figures bearing 
 on their breasts a strange amulet of a white man upon 
 a tree trooped from the huts and through the entrance 
 of the compound towards the temple. On the thresh- 
 old of the smaller house stood a white priest watching ; 
 black of beard he was and red of face ; much cloth of the 
 
 78
 
 colour of the ceiling of a hut was draped about his 
 body loosely tied around an enormous paunch (the 
 reason for his name and the secret envy of many of the 
 elders of the tribe) ; and upon his chest was the same 
 amulet, but larger, one that flashed and glittered. 
 And yet was another charm of black beads strung upon 
 a string with which he made magic continually with 
 his fingers. Among the last of the folk coming through 
 the compound gate walked a man at whom every eye 
 fluttered like chickens at the shadow of a hawk 
 Sinoja, 'the voice' of Tchoon. 
 
 The white priest perceived him, and for one 
 moment, as many remarked, his fingers were stilled. 
 Some paused, wondering what might happen; others 
 expected that the rival priests would fight. But the 
 white man made no move; and Sinoja, who seemed 
 not to notice him, continued on to the door of the 
 temple. Then when he entered heedlessly they paused 
 and gasped again, gasps echoed from within by those 
 assembled. 
 
 "He cometh!" whispered one woman to another 
 without breath, as slowly, like a canoe upon the river 
 waves, advanced the white priest. His deep voice 
 rang out. The people closed their lungs. But in 
 answer the clanging voice above ceased crying. 
 
 "Enter, my children!" admonished the Vat to 
 those without. "Why stand ye here ?" 
 
 He passed them and went in and they crowded 
 behind him, craning necks. Within were thirty people 
 standing as goats within a kraal who smell a lion. By 
 the back wall squatted Sinoja staring sightlessly. 
 No sign he made as his rival passed nor any sign the 
 
 79
 
 other. On the white priest stalked to the temple 
 shrine. Then kneeling as before a king he bade them 
 also kneel and began to chant his magic spell which 
 they in turn repeated yet their words were like to 
 wounded birds. Hearts became unstuck and rattled; 
 livers oozed; voices whistled resembling the severed 
 wind-pipe of a dying goat; and ceased. Eyes rolled 
 to the corners of their sockets; knees trembled and 
 shoulders quivered like palm fronds in the breeze; 
 for was there not behind them the 'voice of the god' they 
 had forsaken, Tchoon ? Who knew how his vengeance 
 might strike ? And yet on and on weaved the spell as 
 continuously and as untroubled as the river flowed. 
 Surely this strange white god had powerful magic even 
 as his priest had said ? Then, clutching desperately 
 at the powerful amulet about her neck and fixing ardent 
 eyes above the shrine, a woman's voice returned; 
 and slowly one by one they followed her. 
 
 The white priest arose and while they squatted 
 on their heels he spoke to them for as long as a man 
 may take to walk across the village of the King; and 
 afterwards he danced before the god and, weaving 
 another mighty spell, took from a hut no larger than 
 a calabash magic food and wine which they knew to 
 have been changed into the flesh and blood of the god 
 long dead upon the tree, and gave them one by one to 
 eat and drink; for he who eats absorbs the virtue and 
 the strength of the slain god. And all these things 
 Sinoja watched squatting as rigidly as a stone against 
 the farther wall ; but not once did the bright black 
 eyes of the bearded white priest alight upon him even 
 as a fly may upon a leaf. 
 
 80
 
 When all was done the white passed through them 
 bidding each one that had a sickness to follow him. 
 But few that day stayed ; for as soon as they again 
 became aware of the sinister figure of the priest of 
 Tchoon fears hovered about them like mosquitoes 
 in the rains. So that it was but a span of a shadow 
 ere the Vat was seated alone beneath the house's outer 
 roof. Then came Sinoja and squatted near to him 
 but spoke no word as became his dignity ; nor did the 
 fat priest seem aware of him but, smiling, drank wine 
 as red as blood. At last Sinoja greeted him in the 
 native manner. The white glanced down as one 
 finding a dog or goat within his hut and replied in the 
 fashion of a master addressing a slave. The copper 
 features did not budge ; only the quartz eyes grew 
 stonier. Nativelike he spoke of woman's litter about 
 a camp; and, when at last the bone was neared, asked 
 politely whether the white man's god was not angry 
 at the presence of the priest of a rival god. 
 
 "Nay, he is pleased to see thee, O Sinoja," replied 
 the priest smiling, "for he knoweth that those who look 
 upon him shall be blinded by the truth of this power. 
 Wherefore doth thy god fear to let the stranger within 
 his temple ? Is he then afraid of the stranger's medi- 
 cine ?" 
 
 "Why then," retorted Sinoja, "do thy brother 
 whites not kneel to thy god if he be so strong and 
 mighty ?" 
 
 "Are there then not among thy people those who 
 begrudge their offerings and seek strange gods knowing 
 no better?" 
 
 "But thy rival priests, the Stork and the White 
 
 81
 
 Ape, why speak they against thee ? Have the white 
 men many gods ?" 
 
 "Nay, but one ; but these men so speak as thou 
 shalt speak of thy brothers of Mukwenda and Butaro." 
 
 "The Stork," said Sinoja, "sayeth that if the people 
 of the Wajojo kneel not before his god shall they be 
 burned in ghostland." 
 
 "He is like a blacksmith," replied the fat priest, 
 smiling "who striketh before the iron is hot." 
 
 "Yet he sayeth too that these, thy brother whites, 
 the Brass-Eater and the Scolding Monkey, are black 
 of heart and shall surely burn in ghostland." 
 
 "If thou hast a flock of goats and several wander, 
 as every goat would do when the herdboy sleeps, shalt 
 thou then beat the goats or the slave boy ?" 
 
 "What wouldst thou give should I kneel to thy 
 god?" 
 
 "I may give thee nothing, but he would give thee 
 life in ghostland." 
 
 "Yet many may follow me ?" 
 
 "Then would they live to give thee presents." 
 
 "But the Stork would give many goods that Sinoja 
 should kneel to his god." 
 
 "Art thou then a slave to be bought and sold ?" 
 retorted the fat priest swiftly. 
 
 Sinoja paused, uncorked his snuff box, and prof- 
 fered it, which is a sign of friendship. The white 
 man took some and made Sinoja's sneezes seem but 
 echoes. 
 
 "Doth thy god make thee thy medicines ?" was 
 the next query. 
 
 "He doth." 
 
 82
 
 "Wouldst thou drive the demons from one who 
 wilt never kneel before thy god?" 
 
 "Verily would I." 
 
 Came another pause. 
 
 "The son of the Black Lion hath a hot demon 
 within him, but the Black Lion loveth not strange 
 gods. Wilt thou then come in the shade of the fence 
 and weave thy spells ?" 
 
 The bright black eyes of the fat priest gazed into 
 the lashless ones of Sinoja, but nought was there save 
 darkness. 
 
 "I will," said the white man, "this night." 
 
 As Sinoja told him how this should be done came 
 the White Ape, an old man, stooping, clad in white 
 with a straggly beard of grey spread like a monkey's 
 whiskers about a pallid face; and, as he greeted the 
 Vat, his eyes moved from the temple priest upon the 
 floor to his brother white and in those eyes was both 
 inquiry and envy. Sinoja snuffed again and proffered 
 to the stranger also. 
 
 Is not a woman the sister of death ? 
 
 Native Legend. 
 
 In a small compound not a spear's throw from 
 the royal hut was another, but small and shaped like 
 to an overturned cooking pot after the manner of a 
 people whom no man knew, for Mtesa, the fool, was a 
 
 83
 
 man cast out from his tribe whose life had been saved 
 by the flight of his mother and, as rumour told, he 
 had been a prince in his own land where, as with the 
 Wajojo, all cripples are put to death at birth. When 
 the oldest man among them was a child was the Black 
 Baboon an ancient. Tradition said that in the days 
 of Pakanzi, the fourth grandfather of Matanga, had 
 come an old man from the north who by his magic 
 had saved the lives of the King and his children from 
 the eating sickness. Was it not well known too that 
 even the medicine men were afraid of him aye even 
 the sacred 'voices of the gods' ? Had he not but the 
 other day defied the King himself, laughed in his face 
 and broken the most sacred of their laws ? Eh ! but 
 many said that Mtesa was no man but a spirit to whom 
 death was not, who might at any moment vanish like 
 water into sand before their very eyes! Had he not 
 been known to walk into the King's house and awake 
 him from slumber ? What mortal could do such and 
 live ? 
 
 When the mauve shadows had crept to the bottom 
 of the fence was the hunchback seated in the cool 
 of the eaves of his hut. The great head, as if too 
 heavy a burden, leaned against the door post. Wise 
 was Mtesa and the ways of men were to him as the 
 track of a buck through long grass to the skilful hunter. 
 A prophet was the Black Baboon, reading the signs 
 of the morrows as a rainmaker predicts the coming 
 of the rains from the ivory stick hung in the shade of 
 the eaves. The people of the world were known 
 to him, for had he not journeyed for as many moons 
 as there are fingers on a man's two hands and looked 
 
 84
 
 upon the waters which flowed to the end of the earth ? 
 Eh! where were white men with canoes as big as the 
 King's village ; where men were clad in magic clothes 
 and made to slay their brethren with firesticks even 
 in greater numbers than the King slaughtered his own 
 people, so that the folk might run to and fro with 
 burdens like to ants that they pay tribute to the whites ? 
 Eh! even were the women made to cover their beauty 
 becoming concubines to strangers, denying their 
 gods, and smitten with demons that ate their bodies 
 away. Eh! all these things he knew, for had he not 
 seen ? A child may not believe in the power of the 
 gods, how then could he tell of the far wonders to these 
 darkly children ? Who shall say by a man's face 
 whether he be screaming with laughter or have a spear 
 in his guts ? Who then should say whether the words 
 of the jester were foolish or wise ? 
 
 Doth not the honey bird call a man to rob the 
 comb, expecting his due ? Doth not a white call his 
 fellows to share the loot ? Eh ! Doth not a man trap 
 a lion with a goat ? Yet were these children of the 
 calabashes glutting the white man's bait - - wearing 
 their clothes, following their gods, and drinking of 
 their demon water? Aye, even the King. Only one 
 of the royal blood whose back was still straight - 
 Chwa. And yet he had drunk of a maiden's blood. 
 
 As these images swam in the great head of Mtesa 
 like fish within a pool came a darkness against the 
 mauve robe of Takwa, god of night, and the low voice 
 of Chwa saluted him. When greetings had been made 
 and snuff taken, save for the low of cattle, bleat of 
 goats, and the shrill cries of herdboys returning to the 
 
 85
 
 village, was silence for a space. Then said the jester 
 as one addressing a son of a god : 
 
 "When the hawk poiseth in the air do not the 
 chicks seek the mother's wings ?" 
 
 "Ugh!" grunted Chwa in assent. 
 
 "White hawks are hovering, yet the black chicks 
 still pursue the sand fleas." 
 
 "How shall they flee if the cock croweth not ?" 
 returned Chwa. 
 
 "Eh! if the black cock chirkleth and pecketh in 
 the dirt where is no good, who then shall blame the 
 hens for the following." 
 
 "Ugh !" agreed Chwa, "but the black cock groweth 
 white feathers." 
 
 "But he deceiveth not the hawks." 
 
 From the King's enclosure came the thrum of a 
 small drum and the twang of a lyre. Then said Chwa 
 as one no longer able to resist setting down an irksome 
 burden : 
 
 "It is said in the market that the son of Topaza 
 (Sinoja) hath taken snuff with the priests of the strange 
 god, the White Ape and the Vat. Doth he then eat 
 of their words ?" 
 
 "Who shall catch a swallow with the hands ?" 
 
 "Eh ! Doth the liver of Tchoon then ooze water ? 
 hath his heart become unstuck ?" 
 
 "How may a dog know what passeth in the head 
 of a man ?" 
 
 "Eh!" 
 
 The gaze of Mtesa was glazed as when the soul 
 wanders (dreams) and the eyelids of Chwa were as a 
 stretched bow. Had not Sinoja himself said when 
 
 86
 
 asked the god's intentions, 'Am I a god ?' Who then 
 should know whether the backbone of even a god were 
 straight ? 
 
 "Thou hast seen more moons than I have days," 
 said Chwa at last. "How then if thou knowest not 
 the ways of the gods, may I ?" 
 
 "A rat is gnawing thy bowels," stated the old man. 
 "Let the gods do battle with the gods, but do thou 
 turn thine eyes upon men. Thy shadow hath been 
 trodden on in the high noon." 
 
 "By whom?" 
 
 The voice was a tone deeper and menacing. 
 
 "If the gates be not opened the fields are flooded, 
 but the guardian maketh a feast with strangers. Thou 
 hast said that 'the voice' of Tchoon taketh snuff with 
 the priests of the white god, what if the god speak 
 with the mind of his servant ?" 
 
 "That Tchoon should command " 
 
 "There is more than one snake in the fold. If the 
 whelp die the old one looketh with sore eyes upon the 
 breed of his father." 
 
 "Eh!" agreed Chwa. 
 
 "Take thou the spear before it is broken." 
 
 For the falling of a leaf to the ground was a 
 pause in which the voice of the King's minstrel was 
 smothered by drunken 'Oughs' of applause. 
 
 "Who may rise against the King?" said Chwa 
 loyally. 
 
 "If thou takest not the spear then will it be broken 
 by the stranger ?" 
 
 The face of Chwa was stern, yet his eyes were 
 looking upon the form of Tsabi. 
 
 87
 
 "Nay, old man," he replied. "The royal blood 
 may not be spilt by blood royal." 
 
 "But the blood royal may be spilt by royal blood !" 
 responded the jester. "But who shall teach an ape 
 to talk ? or a crocodile to sing ? The soul of Chwa 
 pursueth a warrior's path, thirsteth after women." 
 
 Mtesa's shrewd eyes saw those of Chwa grow 
 burnished with anger. 
 
 "Yet what is one goat to the wise owner of many ? 
 Even so are there sick men whose demons are but 
 driven out only by a kind of goat which he doth not 
 possess ... If thy goat be found to slake thy thrist, 
 O Chwa, wilt thou then snatch the spear before it is 
 broken ?" 
 
 "I am a hunter," retorted Chwa, haughtily rising, 
 "that killeth his own game ; and who shall speak 
 against the King and live save a clown ?" 
 
 "Mighty hunter thou art," returned Mtesa, "but 
 of four-legged game!"
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 i 
 Is it not good to change masters when one is unjust? 
 
 As a hunter having wounded two quarries with 
 one arrow hesitates which trail he shall follow, so was 
 the mind of Chwa ; even as two dogs tear at one lump 
 of meat, so did lust for power and passion for a woman 
 snarl and worry the heart of him. The taste of the 
 girl, Tsabi, was as water to the thirsty, beer to the 
 drunkard, meat to a glutton, blood to a warrior. By 
 many grasses were both trails tied : the first by his 
 office as general of the King's army and the second as 
 the guardian of the shrine of Tchoon. The taboos 
 could only successfully be overcome by the aid of 
 Mukwenda, the god of war, and the sanction of Ntoka 
 Nkwaza, the ghost of their father. And across the 
 two trails, like the balanced log of a game trap, was the 
 priest, Sinoja. Chwa shivered and creaked with wrath 
 as a Bombax tree in a gale. And the grass knots of 
 the girl's trail were many. One was tied by the King 
 who had commanded her as a present to Tchoon the 
 god himself would have to be placated for the loss. 
 The priest had plaited yet another, for his body, as 
 the 'voice of the god', was sacred. Yet had not Sinoja
 
 said that the girl had been taken for the royal pleasure ? 
 Such was common enough ; for the King would merely 
 replace her by another, making a gift to the temple. 
 The trails seemed to melt into one. Were passion 
 and power twins ? Yet the priest might have lied. 
 A tiny ember burst into flame to be extinguished by 
 the spittle of taboo. 
 
 Chwa rose from the side of Batomba, his youngest 
 wife (for the savour had gone from her and life had 
 become as stale porridge), and squatted on the 
 threshold of the hut pawing furiously like to a lion 
 in a net; for the heart of Chwa, prince and peerless 
 warrior, was shrunken within him until it was no bigger 
 than a ground nut and his liver was squeezed sorely 
 so that he broke into a lament, baying his woes even 
 as a dog to the moon. 
 
 As the first freshet of the rains is drunken by the sands, 
 So my shadow is swallowed by that of the gods ! 
 
 Lo, O shadow! swell to my height 
 As the river covereth its bed! 
 Am I not Chwa, prince of the blood, 
 Knowing no equal ? 
 
 Eh! 
 
 Doth not the thicket blind the most valiant of men 
 That he knoweth not the step of a lion from a dog ? 
 
 Lo, O my feet! smash through the brake! 
 Hath a thicket a tongue or a ghost ? 
 Am I not Chwa, prince of the blood, 
 Hawk-sighted and brave ? 
 
 Eh! 
 
 90
 
 Is not my soul like to a girl with two lords ? 
 Sniffing this way and that like a masterless dog ? 
 
 Lo, O soul ! seek out a true road ! 
 If the grasses are tied, take thy sword! 
 Am I not Chwa, prince of the blood, 
 Whose limbs are as trees? 
 
 Eh! 
 
 As the tongue of the ant bear licketh up ants, 
 So may a warrior slay men in his might ! 
 
 Lo, O man! pluck forth thy spear! 
 Drive forth the foe out of thy hut! 
 Am I not Chwa, prince of the blood, 
 Victor of kings ? 
 
 Eh! 
 
 But how shall a sword slay ghosts of the dead ? 
 How may a warrior untie the knots in the grass? 
 
 Lo, O heart ! stick to my ribs ! 
 Lest my bowels become water, 
 For am I Chwa, prince of the blood, 
 Staling my feet! 
 
 Eh! 
 
 The murmurous plaint rumbled away. Cattle 
 lowed and from afar a parrot screamed. The air 
 cooled with the dawn. As a sprig of cassava springs 
 up in a cattle kraal so the words of Mtesa sprouted. 
 Again rumbled the mighty chest of Chwa : 
 
 Eh ! is the spear then the master or the master, the spear ? 
 Am I then my father or is my father but me? 
 Ow ! who shall walk straight in the guts of the wood ? 
 Ow ! who walketh a road shall never buy slaves !
 
 Eh! if a man hath a spear which in battle is split, 
 Doth he not cast the maker and seek other tribe ? 
 Ow! spearmakers are gods and gods are as they! 
 Ow ! who knoweth a pool till the pool be fished ? 
 
 So it was that the first ray of the sun discovered 
 the tall figure of Chwa striding through the gate of the 
 compound of the White Ape, which is on the landward 
 side of the village of Matanga. Opposite a small 
 bungalow made in the white man's fashion was a larger 
 house, taller than the others, built of squares of mud 
 baked in the sun, from which issued a voice, chanting. 
 Chwa paused to listen. Came the sounds of many 
 others; not as men answer the native troubadour, but 
 as those repeating a spell. 
 
 "Eh!" muttered Chwa, gazing at the foreign 
 temple, "surely the priest maketh an incantation with 
 those that are with him." 
 
 Courtesy forbidding one to break the words of a 
 priest at his orisons or a man at a feast, Chwa sank 
 upon his heels in the shade of the bungalow as rushed 
 past him excitedly a man of the Lung Fish Clan wear- 
 ing white man's clothes from the waist and swinging 
 on his breast the fetish of the foreign god. The chant 
 ceased as a cock's crow is shattered by a boy's stone 
 and broke into a clucking of female tongues. The 
 white man's voice sounded as one commanding and 
 into the sunlight crowded some seven converts, women, 
 girls, and one old man, who, muttering and staring 
 like frightened pariahs, scuttled hastily to their huts 
 behind the bungalow. Emerged the White Ape, the 
 large fetish of the white man upon a tree flashing as 
 it swayed from his bent shoulders. As he advanced 
 
 92
 
 his pale eyes were as if lighted by burning grasses within. 
 
 "Greeting, O Chief!" said the old man as one 
 speaking with a fluttering bird in the bosom; and, 
 ignoring the usual native etiquette, beckoned Chwa 
 to a chair on the verandah. 
 
 Gravely Chwa accepted and, seating himself 
 slowly, regarded with the features of a dead man the 
 face of the white which was to him as tracks in mud to 
 a hunter. "Eh !" said Chwa to himself recalling Sinoja's 
 words to the Vat, "here be one who seeing that his 
 neighbour hath captured a goat maketh a feast pretend- 
 ing that he hath taken an ox by the muzzle." 
 
 Rose the clucking of folk. A drum began to beat 
 slowly in the village of Matanga. The hand of the 
 white priest, which was like to a bird's claw, clutched 
 at the fetish seeking strength therefrom. 
 
 "Greeting, O Chief 1" said he again in the manner 
 of a young hound straining at the leash at the scent of 
 the quarry. "What seeketh thou ?" 
 
 "I seek strong gods," returned Chwa. "Are thy 
 gods strong, O white man ?" 
 
 "There is but one god," replied the priest. 
 
 "So sayeth each one of the priests, black or 
 white," retorted Chwa. "If each man hath his god 
 who then shall be the most powerful ? Is not the 
 King's god stronger than the King?" 
 
 "Thy tongue is bound with many grasses and 
 thine eyes are closed with mud." 
 
 "Eh !" agreed Chwa, "thus indeed is it, and hence 
 do I seek for a strong god who may overcome other 
 gods, for what profit a man with a god who is the slave 
 of other gods ?" 
 
 93
 
 "Seek and ye shall find," replied the old man. 
 "These are the words of my god. But him thou 
 must approach as a child, asking nothing, but trusting 
 all. He died that his followers might live." 
 
 "Then did the king of his country make of him 
 the scapegoat that the sicknesses of the folk should 
 go with him to ghostland, even as do our people ?" 
 
 "Aye, even so," replied the old man, and his eyes 
 shone as a glowworm in the night. "Aye, was he the 
 scapegoat dying to wash away the sins of the world. 
 Seek ye not him?" 
 
 "But how then shall such an one be a powerful 
 god and he without power to save himself? Such 
 gods are weak in battle." 
 
 "He died even as he had so willed that the words 
 of his father might be tempered before all men." 
 
 "Was his father then a god?" 
 
 "Even so; for the son is the father and the father 
 the sacred ghost; three in one." 
 
 "Aye," agreed Chwa, "such are the words of our 
 priests." 
 
 "Nay, nay," the white priest corrected him and the 
 smile was like to a mother giving breast to a child. 
 "Thy priests speak with the tongues of babes." 
 
 "Was then thy god born of woman ?" 
 
 "Even so, but not of man." 
 
 "Even as are our vestals born of a banana flower." 
 
 "Nay, nay. He was born of a sacred spirit." 
 
 "Then hath he power to drive away bad spirits ?" 
 
 "Of a surety ; casteth he not out demons from the 
 swine of Galilee?" and, leaning forward, softly the old 
 man translated the story of the Galilean swine. 
 
 94
 
 "Eh !" grunted Chwa and his eyes brightened like 
 a newly blown fire. "And is he who is tied upon the 
 tree thy fetish?" 
 
 "Even so." 
 
 "Eh! a mighty magician truly. For how many 
 cattle wouldst thou sell that fetish which is thine ?" 
 
 "We sell not but give only to those who are of the 
 faith," replied the white father. 
 
 "Give then that to me." 
 
 "Nay, I will give thee another when thou shalt 
 kneel before the shrine owning no other lord and 
 giving up all that is thine." 
 
 "But thou hast said," protested Chwa, "that thou 
 sellest not. Dost thou then, as our priests, speak with 
 one tongue for day and another for night?" 
 
 "Nay, O Chief, we have but one tongue. Have 
 not these of thy people given all for him?" 
 
 "What giveth a man who hath nothing ?" retorted 
 Chwa. "Thou givest to them yet not to me their 
 chief." 
 
 For twenty drum beats the twain gazed upon each 
 other, and written on the face of the white was that 
 of one in the market place. "Doth a man bandy words 
 to and fro with a child ?" communed Chwa. "Doth a 
 man command twice from a slave ? Yet if the tale 
 of the pigs be true, powerful indeed is the fetish. 
 Eh!" 
 
 "Give ear, O white man," he said with a sudden 
 hauteur, "I am Chwa, a prince of the blood of Lions, 
 great chief and mighty warrior. Wherefore dost thou 
 refuse to me that which thou givest to the meanest 
 of my slaves ?" The white man's eyes grew as one 
 
 95
 
 looking inward. "Eh!" Chwa rose slowly to his 
 full height. "There be others who trade with our 
 priests." 
 
 "If thou shalt depart thou wilt go to my brother, 
 the Vat," murmured the old man as one talking 
 to his soul, and sought within his clothes. "Stay, 
 O Chief. Take this then, and with it give words 
 to thy folk that they too become seekers even as 
 thou." 
 
 "Nay," said Chwa, haughtily refusing the ordinary 
 crucifix such as was worn by the convert. "Dost 
 thou then present to the chief the same as thou givest 
 to the slave ?" 
 
 "Nay, nay," said the old man, sighing as he 
 looked up into the rigid ebony face. "Thou art right 
 as thou seest the things that thine eyes show thee. 
 Wait!" 
 
 He went into the bungalow and returned with 
 another crucifix nearly as large as his own and made 
 of white metal. 
 
 "Take this, O Chief, and may my words enter into 
 thy heart. Come when thou wilt and bring those of 
 thy people to listen to the words of the only true 
 god." 
 
 Gently the hand of Chwa took the emblem. 
 
 "The more powerful the fetish the more shall 
 seek it," he responded slowly; then added: "The 
 wild cat who sitteth the longest at the pool catcheth 
 the most fish!" 
 
 "Even so," agreed the white priest with a smile. 
 "But with the burden of many moons the teeth of a 
 dog groweth blunt." 
 
 96
 
 2 
 
 Who hath the right of a drunken brawl ? 
 
 When the shadows were half shrunken, sprawled 
 Matanga upon a couch of skins in the shade of a great 
 fig tree within the royal compound. From the head, 
 which lay upon the thigh of a concubine who slowly 
 wafted a palmetto fan with an ivory handle, rose on 
 the hot air, laden with the acrid odour of sweat and 
 liquorish spew, sounds as of a boar nuzzling. In the 
 shape of a young moon around him sat his seven wives 
 (the chief wife, she of the pendent breast, mother of 
 Tapakwe, in the centre) all clad in the calico of the 
 white man. Against the palisade squatted in rows 
 the councillors and chiefs. Some, as Panga, were 
 clothed after the royal example; and others, as Chwa, 
 gleamed in oil and sweat. Some were sleeping 
 upright and others were propped by their fellows. 
 Those that were naked were sober; those that were 
 clothed were drunk. Since the going down of the 
 previous sun had they feasted and drunk according to 
 the royal command. In the shade of another tree 
 lounged Mtesa. Nude as a baboon was he and the 
 paint of office was streaked and smudged. 
 
 To the left of the King, glistening in the hot sun, 
 strove the royal musicians upon three drums and two 
 lyres. Their fingers were as the legs of tired runners, 
 yet still the drums staggered on and the voice of the 
 troubadour quavered like to a wounded bird as if in 
 accompaniment to the royal trumpeting, for who could 
 
 97
 
 say when the autocrat would awake. But among 
 those whose heads had not been clasped in the hot 
 embrace of the white man's drink was murmuring 
 even as boys in the lodge of the warriors. 
 
 "Eh!" muttered a nude cousin of the King, a man 
 who would have walked to the place of execution as a 
 buck seeking the forenoon shade, "surely the water 
 of the white man be bewitched, plunging the souls of 
 strong men into darkness." 
 
 "Aye," returned another behind him who was 
 supporting a white- clad brother whose eyelids were 
 sealed, "and who knoweth what may be done when the 
 souls wander in magic sleep ?" 
 
 "Is it not like to a spear blade in the sun ?" com- 
 mented a younger man also nude. "Surely the white 
 men make spells by means of the talking leaf with 
 the soul of the King that he shall do magic as they 
 wish, and what shall he be but the slave of the white 
 man and we his slaves ?" 
 
 "Eh! straight going words," growled another. 
 "For our beer maketh the feet to dance, but the beer 
 of the white man is as the forest demon making a man 
 blood mad against his brother." 
 
 "Eh, O Chwa!" whispered the first speaker, 
 "wherefore dost thou not drive forth the white man 
 before we are devoured by his magic and his gods ?" 
 
 "Am I the King ?" retorted Chwa gruffly . "Such 
 be the affairs of gods dealing with gods." 
 
 "Aye," hiccoughed a white- clad man unsticking 
 his eyelids ; "the words of Chwa are like to ick 
 like to a spear blade. Eh! The King is the king!" 
 
 And among the women also was murmuring.
 
 Said the mother of Tapakwe, the sick heir, to a sister 
 wife : 
 
 "Eh! verily be our lord's mind eaten up by the 
 white man's magic! Hath he not turned his back on 
 the gods and kneeled before the white god that his 
 priest weaveth spells over the sick body of my child ? 
 Eh ! already is the death cry like a spring in my throat !" 
 
 "Truly," whispered the younger, "and is not the 
 covering of our skins to make the gorge rise ? Are 
 then our limbs and bodies as a dog's vomit before the 
 folk? Eh!" 
 
 A snuffled snort and a groan were as the omen of a 
 black rat in the path. The lumbering of the drums 
 rushed into flight as do frightened guinea fowl; the 
 voice of the troubadour resembled a startled parrot. 
 Among the councillors ran a ripple like a gust upon 
 the river; heads swayed, backs stiffened, bellies grunt- 
 ed, fingers tore open sullen lids. 
 
 The King sat up. 
 
 Swollen like the harvest moon and like the sunset 
 before the rains were the eyes of the King. The glare 
 of him was that of a mad dog and even the mouth was 
 slimed with sweat. One hand he placed upon his 
 forehead. 
 
 "Behold," squeaked the voice of the Black Baboon, 
 "the King returneth from a far journey across the 
 desert where is neither water nor melon! Dry is he 
 as a moon of the hot season! Empty is his belly as 
 a broken gourd! Ho! water for the King!" 
 
 Faces were as tense as lyre strings. The eyes of 
 the King wandered as one seeking a quarry in the bush. 
 Then he grunted like a wallowing elephant as the 
 
 99
 
 concubine thrust into his hand one of the white man's 
 magic gourds which he tilted high, spluttered, dribbled 
 and choked, then hurled the vessel which struck a 
 magician on the side of the head. The man sprawled 
 on his face over a drum, but not a beat did the others 
 miss. 
 
 "Lo!" squeaked Mtesa again, "the King hunts 
 lions! Bold is the King!" 
 
 At the sound Matanga blinked heavily and glaring 
 at the crowd shouted in a voice like to the gurgling 
 of newly made beer : 
 
 "The drunken fool seeth a lion in a slave!" 
 
 "Even as the King," retorted the Black Baboon 
 as swiftly as a spear flash, "seeth white gods where is 
 none!" 
 
 None laughed; none smiled. The bleary blood- 
 shot eyes rolled wildly. Then, taken with a new idea 
 like a dog snapping flies, the King bawled for his 
 attendant, and bade him serve his guests. Five 
 bottles were emptied into a large calabash with which 
 a younger chief of the white-clad brotherhood staggered 
 uncertainly across to the assembled councillors and 
 chiefs. And, save for the nude ones, who but made 
 pretence, did each and every one drink as doth a man 
 in the poison ordeal, gulping, for the royal eyes were 
 upon them. Should the bowl be returned with one 
 drop remaining his fate would be that of two chiefs 
 who had in such wise incurred the imperial displeasure. 
 
 "Ugh!" snarled Matanga as a dog deprived of 
 meat, and lurched about. The troubadour, chanting 
 the interminable praises of his sovereign lord, strove 
 to squawk even louder; but his throat was as dry as a 
 
 100
 
 drum top and his voice was as the squeak of a trodden rat. 
 
 "Chant, dog!" bellowed the King. 
 
 The mouth of the man was open, the throttle 
 distended, but no sound issued forth. The drums 
 and lyre redoubled their speed as if beating time to the 
 frantic eyes trying to flee from a head already dead. 
 The King made a sign with his right hand and his 
 attendant chief shouted wailingly. Entered running 
 a dozen of the royal guard. The King made another 
 gesture and took up the white man's bottle. Before 
 the neck had reached his lips the six musicians were 
 dead. 
 
 "Fetch me others !" grunted the King ; but, as 
 he was about to clap the bottle back, screamed Mtesa : 
 
 "Ho ! A mighty warrior is the King slaying fleas 
 even as doth the fool! Ho! gods black and white, 
 have your hearts become unstuck ?" 
 
 For as long as a switch of the palmetto fan Matanga 
 glared. Then with a grunt he hurled the bottle by his 
 powerful arm at the jester. But deftly the Black 
 Baboon caught it and raising it to his own lips, pretend- 
 ed to drink, rubbing his wrinkled belly and making 
 sounds like a baboon eating melons. The King's 
 hand, already lifted in a gesture towards the watching 
 royal guard, paused as he stared. Then the fat on 
 his face was creased like to the belly of an old crocodile. 
 The King laughed. 
 
 "The fool kneels before the King!" shouted 
 Mtesa, knowing the lethal moment had fled. "Doth 
 he not give ghosts to the gods and drink to the thirsty ? 
 Eh! Almost as wise is he as the King who kneels to 
 the fool!" 
 
 101
 
 But Matanga had been seized by the devil of 
 drunken laughter who turned the creases of his face 
 into rivulets. Came a shout in a strange tongue 
 without the royal palisade. Cries and many voices 
 answered. Clamour arose of men disputing. 
 Through the high gate emerged the figure of the 
 Scolding Monkey. Many strange words he shouted 
 in his own tongue and one hand pawed the air. About 
 him surged some of the royal guard ; their spears were 
 levelled yet their eyes were fixed upon the firestick 
 of six voices held in the white man's other hand. 
 
 "Kill him ! He breaketh the royal taboo ! Take 
 him away! Nay! nay! the King will slay us! Kill 
 him!" cried many. 
 
 "Where is the King ?" yelled the Scolding Monkey 
 in broken words. "I seek by amulet! Where is the 
 chief, Chwa! Back or I kill !" 
 
 Then, as the uproar entered the head of Matanga, 
 he ceased to laugh and glanced around as one stung by 
 a gape fly. The guards stood looking in fear for a 
 sign from him. Nobody within the compound moved, 
 awaiting the royal pleasure. Then the white man saw 
 him. Shouting in a loud voice he staggered across, 
 waving his arms. Matanga scowled at the presence 
 of a stranger, bellowed wrathfully, and seizing the 
 sacred spear, clambered to his feet as a bullock rises. 
 And as he stood swaying, his mouth made noises that 
 none could understand. The Scolding Monkey, whose 
 beard was like a wet goat's, lurched before him shouting 
 for his charm. 
 
 "Bring me that man whose slave stole my charm ! 
 Hearest thou hie?" Followed more white man's 
 
 IO2
 
 words. As reeling sideways he peered at the group 
 of councillors and chiefs, Matanga, roaring like to a 
 bull calf, raised the sacred spear. "Where is the man ?" 
 hiccoughed the Scolding Monkey who saw not the 
 menacing weapon. "Give me that charm and I'll 
 give thee as many gourds of white man's water as thou 
 hast fingers and toes. White man's water!" he roared, 
 lurching back towards the King. Then he stiffened 
 as a dog scenting a lion and the eye of the six voices 
 gazed up into those of the King who perceived it not, 
 for at the words 'white man's water' his arm raised on 
 high to slay slackened as if magic had sucked the 
 strength; and his mouth mumbled like a babe of one 
 season. 
 
 "Put down thy spear or I kill!" shouted the white 
 man, teetering. But all saw that which speaketh in 
 the eyes of a child at the sight of a crouching leopard. 
 
 While the shadow of a soaring hawk flitted across 
 the compound, the councillors and chiefs squatting 
 by the fence, the royal guards standing in the gate, the 
 women, remained as still as trees ; all save the King 
 and the white man who, face to face, spear half- raised 
 and firestick pointing, swayed from side to side as 
 elephants rock in the noonday heat. A cock crowed. 
 The lowing of cattle floated on the hot air. 
 
 The mouth of Matanga opened like fish upon a 
 bank; the spear sank slowly; the body sagged to the 
 knees and rolled over on to the squatting concubine 
 behind him. The Scolding Monkey stared foolishly 
 at the prostrate form. A clamour arose as the King 
 snored. 
 
 "He hath slain the King ! He hath bewitched the 
 
 103
 
 King!" fled cries as the guards rushed. Staggered the 
 Scolding Monkey to meet them shouting ; then, 
 reeling backwards, he tripped over the sleeping King 
 and fell on his back among the wives. As swiftly 
 as the rush of a baboon, the great head of black and 
 yellow of the jester reached the white man beneath 
 twenty flashing spears, crying shrilly: 
 
 "Slay not! The King hath given no word!" 
 
 Then, wrenching the firestick from the impotent 
 hand, rose the Black Baboon and stood between the 
 Scolding Monkey and the levelled weapons. 
 
 "Touch him not!" Mtesa roared in the voice 
 of a chief. "His head is between my feet. O fools, 
 would ye slay one white and bring an hundred from 
 the ground ? To the King only are the words of the 
 jester given! Make way!" 
 
 And through the royal guards, standing as an 
 army bereft of a leader, the Black Baboon led the white 
 man who lurched in his gait and mumbled strange 
 words. 
 
 3 
 Every fish, his bait. 
 
 The shadows were creeping across a forest clearing 
 near the river on the fringe of the vast plantations, 
 devouring one by one in their purple jaws the lines of 
 young plantains and papayi trees on each side of an 
 avenue approaching an oblong house. A spear's 
 
 104
 
 throw away were the bare poles of the walls and roof 
 of another hut, larger and higher, about which clustered 
 some dozen natives clad in white robes. Superintended 
 by the Stork who was wearing a circular head-dress of 
 white with a piece of calico flapping upon his sloping 
 shoulders, they were leisurely preparing bundles of 
 grass for thatching. 
 
 Squatting on the ground at the rear of the first 
 house were thirty odd men, women, and children. 
 Only a few wore clothes. They all were listening to 
 Maliko who, garbed in trousers and coat, was exhorting 
 them vociferously, thumping a black hand upon a book 
 held in the other. 
 
 Onto the wide verandah beneath the sagging eaves 
 emerged a white woman. Small and round she was, 
 clad in white, and her fair hair was drawn into a 
 lump so that it resembled a wild orange on the nape of 
 her neck. On a roughly hewn table set along the mud 
 wall stood a row of bottles and several packages were 
 strewn about. Bronze faces peered inquisitively as 
 she proceeded to fill a basin with water and took up 
 a small bottle. 
 
 "Eh!" whispered an unmarried girl of twelve to 
 a friend partially clothed, "the Egg-Eater is going to 
 make magic blood water!" 
 
 "Truly are they mighty sorcerers, the white folk," 
 commented an older girl. "Who but such could 
 imprison the hearts of medicine men within a trans- 
 parent gourd, eh!" 
 
 "See!" whispered a young woman, who wore 
 suspended from the back of her nude loins a tiny slip 
 of hide, bead embroidered, to another similarly 
 
 105
 
 dressed. "It is even as Sayana sayeth: 'These women 
 of the whites are ashamed of the tails upon their heads, 
 else why should she curl it up like to the tail of a small 
 buck?"' 
 
 "Nay," returned an older matron in a ragged piece 
 of cloth, "so she doth make the magic stronger. In 
 their own country do not their men tie them up by 
 the head tails to the roof at night ? Thus she curls her 
 tail that the red demons who are the souls of the 
 medicine men shall be deceived else, seeing her a 
 woman, they should refuse to obey." 
 
 "Eh! Eh!" murmured several listeners in admi- 
 ration. 
 
 "But why," demanded another, scratching her 
 naked thigh, "do they also put on strange coverings, 
 the white women ?" 
 
 "Teh!" retorted another nude girl, "what else 
 but for shame of their bodies ?" 
 
 "True," assented another heathen. "Mayhap 
 her breasts refuse to fall, shaming her man before all." 
 
 "Is it not said that all women of the whites have 
 flat bellies and thighs like to saplings ?" inquired another. 
 
 "Aye," assented one, "that is so for did not the 
 son of Tanyana who hath seen a white man's village 
 three moons away, say thus ?" 
 
 "But why," inquired an inquisitive girl, "does 
 not the white man then put her away sending the price 
 back to her uncle ?" 
 
 "That is taboo," said a thick-featured woman clad 
 in an old skirt. "Know ye not that as Maliko, the 
 Sudani, telleth you but now that their white god hath 
 forbidden men more than one wife ?" 
 
 1 06
 
 "Aye," concurred another clothed woman, "that 
 is even so!" 
 
 "How," asked a pagan, "may one woman bring 
 enough children to keep strong her clan and work the 
 fields of her man?" 
 
 " 'Tis even as hath related the Stork," asserted a 
 convert. "Do they not as did the first white man who 
 is their god, to whom the priest giveth presents of 
 food and drink every seventh sun, bring forth many 
 men children having no father even as our daughters 
 of the Banana?" 
 
 "Teh !" exclaimed a young infidel contemptuously, 
 "are not the words of all dung-eaters of the same clan ?" 
 
 "Wherefore comest thou here then ?" demanded 
 a matron with an infant bound to her loins by swathes 
 of palm fibre, "if not to eat of his magic ?" 
 
 "If thou hast made offerings to Tchoon," retorted 
 the other, "and he curls his ears against thee, dost 
 thou not seek other gods ?" 
 
 "Aye, 'tis true," mumbled the mother reluctantly. 
 "Yet mighty is the white man's magic, for hath not 
 the Egg- Eater driven out the demon from my first- 
 born when all our medicine men and gods but broke 
 wind? Is it not wisdom to know that this god is a 
 powerful god?" 
 
 "Aye," agreed another woman convert near her, 
 "and neither to this white medicine man nor to the 
 god has one to make offerings at all -- rather do they 
 give presents! Truly a mighty god and rich!" 
 
 "Aie! Aie!" ejaculated a girt whose keen eyes 
 had wandered. "Behold ! cometh the son of Tapoza !" 
 
 As the whisper darted from mouth to mouth 
 
 107
 
 heads turned like startled buck towards the gloom of 
 the forest from out of which stepped Sinoja. 
 
 "Teh! Teh! Teh!" 
 
 Vigorous dental clicks expressed astonished alarm. 
 
 "Aie!" wailed one girl. "Tchoon hath sent him 
 to eat us all up. Aie!" 
 
 "Nay!" protested stoutly an elderly woman, 
 "the might of the white man's god will protect us !" 
 
 "Teh!" snapped a nude heathen, "he cometh 
 to strike the dung-eaters. See! how the heart of 
 Maliko, the Sudani, hath come unstuck!" 
 
 The tall black evangelist, furious at the sudden 
 inattention of the congregation, was shouting louder 
 than ever. 
 
 "Your hearts shall rattle like stones in a pot! 
 Ye shall have livers of dung, ye possessors of heads 
 like empty gourds whose words are but the tinkling 
 of dried seeds within, if ye swallow not the words of my 
 master! Clean your ears that ye may listen to the 
 words of our god who shall be your god and ye 
 kneel! speaking through the magic leaves!" The 
 enormous black hand banged on the book. "And if 
 ye shall plait words of grass stems making your knees 
 of wood, and refuse to cover your bodies which are 
 filthier than the bellies of hyenas, ye shall all be burned 
 in ghostland for as many moons as there are cowrie 
 shells in the land, you and your children after you so 
 that none may be left to tend your tombs!" 
 
 Sinoja meanwhile had quietly approached and 
 seated himself on the outskirts of the little crowd, 
 noticing none by sight or sound. Covert eyes watched 
 him; furtive hands grabbed at amulets and charms. 
 
 1 08
 
 Even the black evangelist seemed uneasy at his 
 presence; his voice dropped and his words became like 
 hens without a cock. Several times his glance shuttled 
 between the white man and the white woman as if 
 imploring aid; then accidentally meeting the basilisk 
 stare of the lidless eyes he faltered and stopped. Then 
 in the silence the white woman called in the dialect 
 as one with a tongue of wood : 
 
 "Come, my children! Come, that we may stroke 
 (bless) you!" 
 
 At the call, the group of women and children rose 
 as one and scurried like fowls to grain, clamouring, 
 not without uneasy glances behind, for first places 
 along the verandah edge. As Maliko stalked swiftly 
 after them Sinoja got up leisurely, slowly followed, 
 and sank again upon his heels. The Sudani whispered 
 to the white woman who, in the act of examining a 
 sore on a limb of the first patient, glanced at the sinister 
 figure of snake-bright eyes with an alarmed expression. 
 Then hastily, still clutching the book, the evangelist 
 walked hurriedly over to the white man superintending 
 the building operations who in turn looked towards 
 the medium of the temple in a startled manner. Then 
 the small pale eyes brightened ; he rubbed his palms 
 together nervously and nodded violently as he said 
 in a high pitched timbre : 
 
 "That is good, my brother! Indeed the lord 
 hath delivered mine enemy into my hands! Praise 
 him, Maliko, my brother! praise him! for always 
 doth he reward the good works of his faithful 
 children and punish the wicked that love him not! 
 Ah! Ah!" 
 
 109
 
 "He is an evil man, master," returned Maliko, 
 "and hath a heart like unto the black mamba." 
 
 "But, my brother, should he accept the holy 
 word would he not be purged of sin, repenting truly, 
 even as thou ?" Rubbing palms furiously he added 
 as if by an after-thought : "Each and all of these rude 
 children of darkness would follow him. Aye, even 
 the King in his heathen wickedness!" 
 
 "I fear him, master," insisted Maliko. "For he 
 hath much power, terrible like the fangs of a hungry 
 leopard, wilier than a wounded buffalo!" 
 
 "Tut! Tut!" retorted the white man tapping 
 the big black's shoulder affectionately. "Hast thou 
 not yet purged thy soul of hungering after heathen 
 idols ? Hast thou no faith in his power ?" 
 
 "Indeed, my master." 
 
 "Ah ! Ah ! Pray, my brother, and he will forgive 
 thee even as he forgave Tomasi. Come, brother, 
 come ! Gird up thy loins to fight the good fight. We 
 go forth to battle fearing none, for is he not on our 
 side? Come, brother, come!" 
 
 "Aye, master!" assented the black evangelist 
 dubiously as the Stork, calling an order of dismissal 
 from labour to his 'children', gave a rub of the hands 
 and started in stiff-legged strides, the body from the 
 waist swinging in the manner of a large fowl, towards 
 the verandah. As he approached Sinoja every eye 
 in the crowd, even the patient's, fluttered covertly 
 towards him. The Egg-Eater, bandage in hand, 
 looked up and called to her man who replied as, rubbing 
 his palms energetically, he bore down upon the medium 
 whose bald lids did not budge. 
 
 no
 
 "Greeting and welcome, brother and friend," 
 said the Stork in fair Lujojo, bending over him. 
 
 "Greeting, white man," responded Sinoja tone- 
 lessly. 
 
 "How is it with thee ?" 
 
 "Well." 
 
 Seemingly disconcerted by the treelike stolidity 
 of the man, the white man blinked down at the black 
 sheafs upon the shaven skull. Sinoja's snake-bright 
 eyes were fixed upon the frond smooth skin of a 
 girl's back. The Stork glanced nervously at his woman 
 who had remained observing interestedly. The pa- 
 tients too were watching furtively. By a motion of 
 his long limbs which began to relax he appeared about 
 to squat down on the ground before his visitor but 
 apparently dignity tautened his muscles. 
 
 "My brother and friend," he began again when 
 Sinoja interrupted coldly: 
 
 "Does the lion permit jackals to share his meal ?" 
 
 The Stork blinked, straightened up, and then 
 perceiving the meaning, bent and said clumsily: 
 
 "My friend wishes to speak behind the fence ? 
 Ah ! Ah ! Come, my friend, thus shall it be ! Enter 
 and and " he baulked at the native idiom 'to take 
 snuff', adding, "and let us talk." 
 
 Calling to the Egg-Eater, who nodded, he took 
 several strides and halted to see whether the man was 
 following. Deliberately, aware of the timid eyes 
 watching, rose Sinoja. On the farther side of the 
 verandah were several canvas chairs on one of which 
 sat the Stork. Squatting on the floor before him 
 Sinoja slowly uncorked the snuff box and proffered it 
 
 in
 
 to the white who, as one smelling dung, tapped a tiny 
 quantity into his palm and, purposely spilling it, 
 went through the form of snuffing, adding a mild 
 sneeze by way of realism. Sinoja, whose gaze never 
 left the other's features, solemnly performed the same 
 rite of friendship, abating neither time nor quantity 
 from the enjoyment thereof. When the last sneeze 
 was done and the box recorked he raised his eyes to the 
 earnest face of the white man. 
 
 "I am come, O priest of the god of the white 
 men, seeking to know his words." 
 
 "That thou shalt, my friend," said the Stork, 
 who prided himself on the apt use of native proverbs. 
 "And my heart dances for thee, for his words are like 
 cassava sticks dropped by the wayside taking root and 
 growing to great trees bearing much goodly fruit." 
 
 The pallid eyes were bright and the palms were 
 rubbed enthusiastically. 
 
 "I have heard," continued Sinoja imperturbably, 
 "that thy god makes greater magic than the gods of 
 our land ?" 
 
 "Eh, my brother," reproved the Stork bending 
 forward, "such words thou shouldst not say for every 
 heart as thou knowest is a market place where 
 men seek bargains." 
 
 "Doth a white man," retorted Sinoja, "still buy 
 fruit which is like pellets of cow dung when his neigh- 
 bour vends fruit like unto a vestal virgin ?" 
 
 "Darest thou barter with ghosts ?" demanded the 
 Stork after a hesitation during which a frown of 
 disapproval flecked his forehead. 
 
 "A priest may do that which a peasant may not," 
 
 112
 
 riposted Sinoja quickly, and on the coppery features 
 a smile seemed to quiver as lightly as a grass blade in 
 the breath of noon. 
 
 "If thou seekest the words of the white man's god, 
 purify thy head as do thy people their bodies with 
 emetic and purge before entering the temples of thy 
 heathen gods." 
 
 "Am I not then a priest also ?" indignantly 
 demanded Sinoja, his basilisk eyes holding the white 
 man's. 
 
 "Truly, truly!" responded the Stork hastily; 
 and then swiftly, as if conscious that he was perhaps 
 lowering the dignity of his office in his zeal to secure 
 this important man as a convert : "But if thy words 
 are built of iron wood, do thou come with loose knees 
 seeking true wisdom and protection in ghostland 
 (salvation) even as a child before his father, as hath 
 commanded my master, and thou shalt surely become 
 as a brother among us doing good for his sake." 
 
 "Such will I do, my master," replied Sinoja whose 
 features resembled a drum top. "But if I may work 
 for thy master before his words have been swallowed 
 will he not the more look upon me with the eyes of a 
 bridegroom?" 
 
 The Stork straightened up, mildly blinking, 
 slightly bewildered to find the implied meaning, and 
 shocked as always at the native similies. 
 
 "Thy words," he replied at length, "are as small 
 buck hiding in the grass." 
 
 "Doth not the white man's god tie up the eye- 
 brows at the slaying of the seventy and nine slaves for 
 Tchoon ?"
 
 "Doth he indeed!" rejoined the Stork, a high note 
 of excitement creeping into his voice. "Have I not 
 made words before the King even as my brother 
 priests have never done that his words died in his 
 mouth and he fled from me ?" 
 
 "Wouldst thou then," responded Sinoja gravely, 
 "pluck them from the hands of Tchoon ?" 
 
 "Yea, would I!" exclaimed the Stork, rubbing 
 the palms of his hands; then he paused as sudden 
 as a hunter descrying a trap on the path. "But why 
 shouldst thou, thyself, his priest, seek me out?" 
 
 "Am I a god ?" retorted Sinoja : "Know I not ! 
 Shall a man live in blindness if the medicine man may 
 give him new eyes ? . . . Maybe thy god is all powerful 
 as thou sayest he is. For what should it profit the 
 son of Tapoza to incur the wrath of Tchoon and loose 
 the gifts of office in order to eat the words of a strange 
 god and live upon the scourings of the porridge-pot ?" 
 
 "Truly," assented the Stork. "Perhaps indeed 
 the sun hath risen for thee, O Sinoja, and I shall wel- 
 come thee with joy as a brother!" 
 
 "Thus shall it be, by my twin soul!" swore 
 Sinoja. "But, O master, wouldst thou bring these 
 sisters of dung, as thy brother Maliko hath said, from 
 out of the hands of the King?" 
 
 Again the Stork's pallid eyes brightened; for the 
 last audience had been but one of many futile remon- 
 strances made to the King and the pagan barbarity 
 was a running sore in his soul. 
 
 "Dost thou then believe that the King would 
 hearken to my words should I plead once more for 
 them ?" 
 
 114
 
 "I am the son of Tapoza, the voice of Tchoon," 
 stated Sinoja slowly and impressively. "Know I not 
 the heart of the King? The seventy and nine have 
 passed into ghostland, but many are they that shall 
 follow. What better may I give as presents to thy 
 god than such as they ?" 
 
 "True, true," assented the Stork oblivious in his 
 zeal to the sordid bargaining of the heart which is the 
 market place. 
 
 Sinoja's eyes turned lizardlike to right and left as if 
 to make sure that no eavesdroppers were nigh. 
 
 "Before more suns than there are fingers on a 
 man's hand," said Sinoja, slowly and solemnly in a low 
 voice, "shall one of the breed of the Lions pass unto 
 ghostland !" 
 
 "The King?" whispered the Stork, leaning 
 intently forward. 
 
 "The omens speak of one. Who shall know 
 which ? When then the suns of lamentation are 
 fulfilled shall those be slain that may serve him in 
 ghostland. When thou shalt hear the great drums of 
 doom, sally forth and in the name of thy god demand 
 them, and they shall be the first gift of Sinoja, the 
 generous, to thy strange god. Thus shalt it be." 
 
 "This will I do," whispered the Stork. 
 
 "And," continued Sinoja, "this night will I send 
 thee a maiden whom I have saved from the lust of the 
 King. She must thou guard among thy people, telling 
 her of the words of thy god." 
 
 "Indeed I will!" assented the Stork as a bird 
 pecketh at ripe grain. "And when these things are 
 done wilt thou, my friend, give thine ears to the words 
 of my god before the people ?" 
 
 "5
 
 "Thus is the word between us," agreed Sinoja. 
 "Do thou thy part, O white priest, and I mine for 
 my belly is over-full of the words of weak gods." 
 
 "Aye, aye, thou seest the light!" exclaimed the 
 Stork, rubbing his hands; but he knew not that, 
 behind the bald mask, the priest of Tchoon marvelled 
 exceedingly at a fish taking two hooks at once. 
 
 4 
 See that thy arrows are sharpened, thy bow not unstrung. 
 
 As through the thatches of a hundred huts filtered 
 smoke in the hot sunrise, clucked ten hundred female 
 tongues. Uncircumcised boys and apronless girls 
 let their cattle stray as they dallied to suck up the 
 cackle through mud walls and fences as cactus sucks 
 the desert dew. In the hut of Kanani were squatted 
 the two sister wives, Nkobi and Batomba. 
 
 "Eh!" Kanani was saying, "the white man hath 
 made great magic with the heart of the King so that 
 he hungered for blood even as a vampire bat; Nak- 
 waka he slew because he dribbled the white man's 
 water instead of drinking and he scorning their clothes 
 even as our fathers! Patoona he slew that his steps 
 grew over slack like to a bull grass-bellied with seasons ! 
 The troubadour and his men were slain! eh! even he 
 
 116
 
 who chanted the praises of our lord like a frog in the 
 rains! Eh! And then to them came the Scolding 
 Monkey and they say the spirit of the magic water 
 was within him too, for he made a dance for the blood 
 of our lord, crying that he had stolen his amulet! 
 Eh! 'twas so! And the King lifted his spear to slay 
 the white dog but he made magic so that the King fell 
 down and slept. Eh! Then was he about to fall 
 upon him, but the Black Baboon of wisdom turned the 
 power of his eye upon him and, lo ! the white fell even 
 as the King had done !" 
 
 "Eh !" gasped Nkobi, " 'tis true they say. Yet, O 
 mistress, why then did the old one not slay the dog ?" 
 
 "Who shall say ?" returned the chief wife. "What 
 are we that we shall speak of the ways of the King ?" 
 
 "Teh!" muttered Batomba the rebellious, "what 
 doth the King with the white man ? Is he not like 
 to Mtesa in gala dress half of his face black even as we, 
 and half white even as they!" 
 
 "Teh!" added Nkobi, regarding the youngest 
 wife as a monkey with a nut regards another without, 
 "before many moons are dead will the King follow 
 the white god and then shall our men have but one 
 wife ?" 
 
 "Aie!" wailed Batomba conscious of contempt 
 because she had no child, "why doth our lord not " 
 
 "Sew thy lips, thou forest brat," snapped the 
 chief wife, "lest the hut thatch hear thy words." 
 
 And in other huts were other words spoken; in 
 the compound of the ancient Panga said one cloth- clad 
 wife to her sister: "Eh! mighty is the magic of the 
 white man! Was not the King about to slay the 
 
 117
 
 Scolding Monkey when the fetish upon his breast 
 shot fire and, lo ! the King fell at his feet. Eh ! Should 
 not the King kneel at the feet of the white god ere he 
 is wrath and destroy his people ?" 
 
 "Eh !" quavered her sister, clutching at her fetish 
 of the white man upon the tree, "Eh! but the priest 
 hath said no harm shall come to those who bear the 
 charm of the white god !" 
 
 "Eh! sister, words like arrows are his! Hark! 
 the voice of the god calleth! Let us go and make 
 offerings !" 
 
 As the bell of the strange god was clanging out a 
 summons, again Chwa strode down the narrow lane 
 past the place of the vestals to the compound of the 
 temple of Tchoon. Upon his broad ebon chest swung 
 the new fetish wrapped in leaves and bound with fibre, 
 for, until he had tested the efficacy of the charm, he 
 would that none should know of his trafficking with 
 alien priests. The space between the giant fig tree 
 was vacant. At the narrow gate of the high compound 
 of the priest's private hut Chwa halted and boomed 
 forth the customary greeting of one seeking audience. 
 The reed door opened and appeared a small slave who 
 kneeling before the prince delivered the message that 
 his master would attend him. As Chwa looked over 
 the man into the compound was in his eye the look of a 
 rutting buck at the sight of a doe, but changed swiftly 
 to haughty challenge on scenting a rival. One foot 
 half lifted, the soot black skin of his right fore-arm 
 rippled in the sunlight; then he grunted an assent and, 
 swinging on his heels, walked and squatted in the shade 
 with his back against the bole, with the gaze of an otter 
 
 118
 
 watching a pool. The lowing of the cattle making 
 pasture-ward and the cries of their herdboys grew 
 faint. The distant bell clanged like a rush of falling 
 stones and ceased. Sinoja with the ripening of his 
 plans sought to follow in the ways of the chiefs to 
 impress their mightiness upon the suppliant at the gate. 
 
 At length when the shadows, creeping more 
 slowly than an opening bud, had shrunk to an arm's 
 length of the palisade appeared the squat coppery body 
 of the medium, a slave bearing before him his stool. 
 Chwa grunted the formal greeting. Sinoja replied 
 and sitting proffered his snuff box. But Chwa, 
 welling with the strength of the fetish upon his breast, 
 refused, which was almost a declaration of war. But 
 Sinoja snuffed meticulously and sneezed at length; 
 then, in a duel of silence like two warriors seeking each 
 to make the other open the attack, they remained im- 
 mobile as the tree, the lidless eyes of Sinoja dead as 
 pebbles, the hot ones of Chwa smouldering. The 
 priest to whom the art was as an incantation to a 
 medicine man won the bout. Chwa growled deep 
 within his chest: 
 
 "O Sinoja, if a man steal from the presents of a 
 King to a god shall he not lose more than a hand ?" 
 
 "Such is the word of the King," returned Sinoja 
 quietly while the pebbles of his eyes became slightly 
 luminous with life ; then he paused and added : "if it be 
 found in the hut of the thief, otherwise shall he endure 
 the poison ordeal that we may know his innocence." 
 
 "Then is not the path of the custodian of the god's 
 goods to denounce the thief before the King ?" 
 
 "Aye, if he be clean himself!" retorted Sinoja. 
 
 119
 
 "That is he," replied Chwa, "cleansed by the 
 Destroyer of Souls." 
 
 "Then let his mouth be open." 
 
 "But what if the denouncer be denounced by the 
 god?" 
 
 "Shall his heart become unstuck when a god more 
 powerful shall do battle for him with a lesser god?" 
 
 "Aye, for the god of which he speaketh is but a 
 white man's god for the eyes of Sinoja see through 
 all things." 
 
 That the cunning priest had spies even among the 
 converts of the strange god had not occurred to the 
 guileless warrior. Yet beyond a quiver of the nostril 
 he betrayed no sign of the failure of his scheme; 
 but his confidence in the new fetish was shaken, for 
 what sort of a god should he be whose trail was so easily 
 scented by an enemy priest. But he said : 
 
 "Even so are the words of all priests. Let us 
 then put the gods to the test." 
 
 "Shall the drums then announce that Chwa, the 
 son of Ntoka Nkwaza, hath kneeled before the white 
 gods taking clothes unto him and his even as the King ?" 
 
 "Nay," said Chwa, "for that message is as the 
 trail of a forest rat which leadeth into the earth." 
 
 Came another pause whilst both tried to read the 
 trail upon a face that was like to a lava heap. 
 
 "He who kneels before a god dies with him," said 
 Sinoja. 
 
 "Aye," agreed Chwa, "even so." 
 
 "Are the words of the Black Baboon lost ? That 
 the whites shall dance before the war drums ?" 
 
 "Ugh!" 
 
 120
 
 "The patience of the gods is like to that of a bitch 
 with her whelps. Yet all paths must have an end." 
 
 "Ugh!" 
 
 "If the white god dies," said Sinoja slowly, "then 
 shall not his children also die even those that bend 
 but one knee before him turning their backs upon the 
 ways of the gods of their fathers ? Like to lightning 
 striking a tree is the wrath of Tchoon. Shall not 
 Mukwenda eat up his enemies even as a lizard flies ? 
 The anger of Tchoon is like to the breath of Tulili 
 upon a wetted finger! Eh, shalt thou piss upon the 
 temple of Ntoka Nkwaza, thy father ?" 
 
 "Ugh," grunted Chwa to whom the recital of the 
 gods of his people was as to a playing child who hath 
 forgotten his father. 
 
 "Who then shall arise as their champion before 
 their wrath is kindled ?" 
 
 This time Chwa waited the length of two fingers 
 of a shadow. 
 
 "The King is the king," he replied, as a goat with 
 its forehooves deep in the sand." 
 
 "Yet to the King is the goat of his desire," re- 
 minded Sinoja referring to Tsabi. 
 
 "The King is the king," replied Chwa loyally. 
 "Who shall slay the words of the King ?" 
 
 "The gods," retorted Sinoja and then added slowly: 
 "Seek thou in the place of the Stork and thou shalt 
 find that which was stolen from King and god." 
 
 121
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 i 
 How may a man see when the hut door is closed? 
 
 The glow from the doorway of the house of the 
 Vat made a quarter moon of the curve of a brow. 
 The head resembled a cooking pot in which glimmered 
 eyes like the faint reflection of stars in a forest pool. 
 Sitting on a high stool with arms carved in the manner 
 of an embracing woman was the black-bearded white 
 priest. He peered through rounds of solid water 
 perched like two birds on a branch upon his high red 
 nose, at a bunch of white leaves in the light from a 
 torch in a gourd of iron. On the far wall was a huge 
 fetish of the white god on the tree, and on the other 
 wall were many other packets of white leaves covered 
 in a strange skin. 
 
 Mtesa had seen these things before ; aye, and more 
 wonderful than these in the white man's towns by the 
 great waters. Not numerous were they, the white 
 men, but mighty and more powerful than elephants. 
 Black marks were drawn on these leaves and, behold! 
 they spoke to another white no matter where; made 
 they that magical stuff like to solid water to keep 
 out a man and animals and yet to see through, others 
 
 122
 
 by which a very old man could see even as his young 
 son. Eh! Bamboos of iron they made, firesticks, 
 that should slay a man at an hundred spear throws; 
 others that spoke faster than the gabble of a woman and 
 killed like an army; canoes as big as a village that 
 moved without paddlers faster than a warrior could 
 run. Magic, said the folk, white man's magic! But 
 the Black Baboon had many, many moons upon his 
 shoulders; older than the parrot, wiser than the ele- 
 phant was the word that went before him. More suns 
 ago than there are cowries paid for a woman when 
 first whites came to that country where he was born, 
 he too had believed that all these marvels were magic; 
 but as a hunter watches birds and beasts of the jungle 
 until he knoweth their ways from the getting up to 
 their lying down, their trails and their seasons of 
 hunting and mating, so had the Black Baboon observed 
 the comings and goings of his brothers. Had his 
 heart too not become unstuck at the voice through the 
 mouth of a priest? Eh! The voice of the god, said 
 the people! But he perceived that the man speaking 
 with his belly gained many cattle and women ! Were 
 there not guilty men who passed through the poison 
 ordeal without hurt ? Eh ! the god hath protected the 
 man of white heart! cried the folk. Yet why was 
 the black and red heifer of that guilty man to be found 
 in the kraal of the priest ? He who enters the chamber 
 of the sleeping King, saith the taboo, shall surely die - 
 as many had died. Yet why should a god strike with 
 a spear or strangle with a cord ? And had not he 
 walked and remained unhurt ? Eh ! 'tis the magic 
 of the Black Baboon ! said the tribe. Were not these 
 
 123
 
 magical things of the white man just so too ? Who 
 should know ? Yet their firesticks slew and used no 
 spears nor human hands! Yet they too gained many 
 cattle and women by the use of their magic. Were 
 they not perhaps even as the sorcerers and priests of 
 the tribe ? Did they not come and swallow up the 
 blacks and take that which was theirs even as did their 
 own Kings and priests ? Eh ! verily had he not seen it ? 
 But at the manner of the taking the mind of 
 Mtesa was like to a babe of twelve moons trying to 
 lift up the beer vat. Eh ! strange were their ways ! 
 If a tribe of warriors desired the cattle and women of 
 another tribe they beat the war drums and went forth 
 to battle, slaying those who opposed them, taking 
 that which they would by the might of their valour. 
 Men of straight words ! Yet the whites who, as only 
 Mtesa knew, were stronger than they, walked not in 
 that trail. Came their priests seeking to draw away 
 the women and children to the magic of the white 
 god ; sent they merchants to sell cloths of the white 
 man of which no native had need save to please the 
 priests of the white god, who said they had; white 
 man's water sold the traders which was as Zya, the 
 demon of madness ; always they came with words 
 dripping with honey, priests and traders, and ever 
 was the same : the foreign priests crying that the gods 
 of the country were but as leaves in a stream, seeking 
 to take from a man his women, preaching that their 
 god forbade to kill, making women of the warriors, 
 waiting until the demon water had slain a white; and 
 then would they come with their firesticks in the 
 hands of other blacks whom they had made slaves by 
 
 124
 
 the same means, demanding vengeance and recom- 
 pense, taking cattle and women, land and forest, ruling 
 with strange taboos so that all were become beasts of 
 burden to the desires of the white. Eh! Eh! their 
 ways were like to the path of a snake through the grass. 
 To the wisdom of Mtesa were these things known; 
 even he perceived the foolishness of Sinoja who 
 sought to slay the whites. Was that not to act 
 as a fish which swallows the bait ? Eh ! the Black 
 Baboon knew ; and saw the future as clearly as one 
 may see the robe of Tanazi. 
 
 "O, white man!" called Mtesa in the voice of a 
 thief. 
 
 The red hand covered with hair like a boar's 
 bristles sank and the dark eyes peered like a dog at a 
 strange sound. As the Black Baboon stood up in the 
 doorway, the priest stared as one at a slave. 
 
 "Ah!" he exclaimed in the white man's way, 
 "thou art Mtesa, the jester? What seeketh thou ?" 
 
 "Words beneath the armpit, O white man," 
 replied the jester, and entering, squatted on the floor 
 out of the path of the lamp. 
 
 "Why cometh thou like a jackal following the 
 trail of Sinoja ?" queried the Vat, placing the talking 
 leaves on his paunch and taking off the false eyes. 
 
 "I follow not the trail of the son of Tapoza," 
 returned Mtesa. "Seeds that are sewn in the night 
 are not vended in the market place on the morrow. 
 I come as a buffalo bird." 
 
 The white priest peered as one seeking a lost 
 thing. 
 
 "When the buffalo bird crieth doth not the bull 
 
 125
 
 herd the cows into the long grass ? I am the buffalo 
 bird to thee, O white man!" 
 
 The eyes of the Vat were still propped and one 
 hand began to finger the seed-pods. 
 
 "From what ?" he demanded. 
 
 "From magic that is brewed by the son of Tapoza 
 against thee and thy brother whites. Doth not one 
 merchant seek to destroy another lest his trade be 
 taken ?" 
 
 "But I am no merchant, but a priest of the one 
 god!" 
 
 "Hath a white not limbs like to a black ?" retorted 
 Mtesa. "Doth not a bull drive another bull from the 
 herd ?" 
 
 "H'm!" muttered the priest as one chewing grass. 
 
 "Teh!" murmured the Black Baboon. "Is a 
 white man an ox without nostrils that he must be 
 lead to water ?" 
 
 "But, Sinoja," continued the priest as one allowing 
 a child to pluck the beard, "hath taken snuff with me. 
 The breast of the King is nigh to mine. Why dost 
 thou then, O jester, bring words that that are as 
 plucked grass in the wind ?" 
 
 "Doth not the vulture see more of the fight than 
 the warrior ? Who shall say from afar by the face 
 whether a man be weeping or laughing ?" 
 
 The white man smiled like a man listening to the 
 chatter of his women. 
 
 "Nay, Mtesa," he said slowly, "thy words are wind- 
 borne for knowest thou not that my god is god over all ?" 
 
 "Can thy god turn aside spears ?" 
 
 "Aye, and he will!" 
 
 126
 
 "And when the spears turn not, then that is as 
 thy god hath willed ? Eh ! Even say our priests when 
 the gods send not the rain or the battle is lost. 
 Eh! Is not the chatter of one parrot like to an- 
 other?" 
 
 "Let not thy heart rattle for me," said the priest, 
 and his lips were like a man sitting on thorns. "Wilt 
 thou not sit at the feet of my god and taste of his words 
 even as thy brothers have done ?" 
 
 "O white man, my shoulders are laden with many, 
 many moons and my ears are like to one whose head 
 lieth by the war drums. In the suns of childhood did 
 not the crane cry the same note as now ? Eh ! I love 
 thee not, white man, even as thou lovest me not nor 
 my brothers." 
 
 "Nay, nay, I love you as my children, for our 
 master hath bidden us to love all men." 
 
 "These are the words of thy god ?" 
 
 "Aye, even as he commandeth us to carry his 
 words to all the peoples of the earth. For why, O 
 jester, shouldst thou then, that loveth me not, play the 
 buffalo bird?" 
 
 "Doth a fisherman not use the dregs of his catch 
 to make bait ? If the fish swallow the bait is the bait 
 destroyed. I would not that the black fish be caught 
 by the white fisherman. O priest of the whites, if 
 the words of thy god are of love wherefore do ye bring 
 in their tails demon water and firesticks that ye may 
 take our lands and our cattle and make slaves of our 
 folk, male and female ?" 
 
 "Where, O jester," said the white when the chew- 
 ing was done, "didst thou find these words ?" 
 
 127
 
 "Have I not seen with mine eyes the peoples of the 
 great waters ?" 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 The body of the priest straightened and the face 
 was that of a man who cometh to the end of a forest 
 trail in a strange country. 
 
 "These white men," he continued after many 
 breaths had been spent, "are black of heart and are not 
 children of our god; they obey not his word; nor 
 even those of their King." 
 
 "Is thy King then a reed and thy god but a noise ?" 
 
 "Hast thou none then that obey not thy King 
 nor thy gods ?" 
 
 "To trample the words of the King is the 
 spear, and of the flouters of gods had we none till 
 thou and thy kind sowed thy words and the demon 
 water." 
 
 The eyebrows of the priest were drawn together 
 and in his beard he muttered a spell as his fingers 
 danced upon the black beads. 
 
 "Thou art wrinkled with many rains, O Mtesa," 
 said he as one chiding the young, "but thou and thy 
 people are children. Doth not a withe teach a child 
 the road to the king and his father?" 
 
 "He who throweth stones sitteth not in the Coun- 
 cil House," retorted the Black Baboon. "Many 
 gods are there, black and white, but what shall a jester 
 have to do with gods ? Yet the arrow plumed with 
 laughter striketh farther than the spear! O white 
 man, if thine ears are closed against a jest throw it on 
 to thy brethren that they may have time to laugh before 
 reaching the place of execution." 
 
 128
 
 2 
 
 Who is so poor that he cannot afford a scapegoat? 
 
 The night was like the interior of an overturned 
 calabash pierced by as many spears as there are leaves 
 in the forest. On the air, acrid scented with low 
 hung smoke and resembling a medicine bath, floated 
 over the village, as lazily as crocodiles on the river 
 stream, the sound of a lyre and the high chanting 
 of the King's troubadour. From the swamps of the 
 forest came the paeans of the frogs as if armies of 
 ghosts were in the turmoil of battle. As frequently 
 as a man scratches rose the bleat of a kid, the low of 
 cattle, or the harsh squawk of a bird. 
 
 Within the inner royal enclosure and so near 
 to the King's compound that the rumble of his 
 laughter and the baboonlike bark and squeak of the 
 jester could be heard was the hut of the royal heir. 
 On a slight dais of beaten earth padded with reeds and 
 covered by calico lay Tapakwe, a youth just past the 
 time of circumcision. The features were less coarse 
 than his father's and more after those of his uncle, 
 Chwa; but now the ebon skin in the light of the smoky 
 fire was of a greenish hue and hung upon the well 
 built skeleton like unbrayed hide upon a frame and 
 the big eyes stared as one looking upon ghosts. On 
 the other side of the fire squatted three men whose 
 bodies were decorated with monkey fur, parrot feathers, 
 and many amulets; and two of them were so old that 
 their bellies and breasts were shrivelled like dried 
 
 129
 
 bladders and their limbs resembled the human sticks 
 of the great drum, Toko Toko, which only is beaten 
 at a royal accession. Beside one lay the tops of three 
 cow horns which, pierced at the point, are used for 
 cupping and two sets of iron prongs which, heated, 
 sear the patient's body. 
 
 "Nay," the youngest medicine man was saying, 
 "let us take more blood for the demons are not yet 
 out of him." 
 
 "Eh!" grunted one of the ancients, "he hath 
 more demons than the forest hath birds but less blood 
 than the King's drinking horn!" 
 
 "Aye," agreed his senile colleague, "thou canst 
 not tap wine from a dead palm!" 
 
 "But let us then," persisted the first doctor, 
 "sear yet again upon his belly. Mayhap one further 
 burning will frighten the demons away. For he is 
 Tapakwe and if he die who shall pay ?" 
 
 "Nay," said the second oldest, scratching himself on 
 a scaly thigh, "if he still hath demons then hath magic 
 been done since the sacrifice of the son of Toonya. 
 Did not the other lad lay with him for a long space 
 breathing his breath, swallowing his blood and spittle, 
 and was rubbed with his water and excrement before 
 he was slain ? How then should such a scapegoat 
 not have borne away with him the boy's sickness ?" 
 
 "Aye," mumbled the other, "never hath that been 
 known to fail and the scapegoat a chief's son of the 
 same initiation lodge. Who but a King could pay 
 such a price ? Ehh ! . . . Give him yet again of the 
 herb water," he added, "and if that do nought then 
 he hath surely been bewitched." 
 
 130
 
 "Ehh! hath not Tchoon so prophesied?" queried 
 the youngest man. "Therefore to what end ?" 
 
 "The herb water," muttered the oldest. "Doth 
 hear ? Art thou a medium to do magic with thy 
 tongue ?" 
 
 The youngest doctor rose and from a large cala- 
 bash poured out an infusion made from a forest herb 
 into a smaller and sought to make the sick youth drink ; 
 but the lad moaned, refused to swallow, and dribbled 
 the liquid from his mouth. 
 
 "Eh! Eh!" the doctor grumbled as he returned 
 to the fire. "We may as well drink the beer of sacrifice 
 and fill the poison cup ! Yet wherefore doth the priest 
 of Tchoon summon the white priest ? Hath he then 
 swallowed the white god's words ?" 
 
 "Ugh!" muttered the first ancient taking snuff, 
 "some say there be great power in their amulets and 
 if he bring the fetish of his god who shall say what 
 a white man may do ?" 
 
 "Teh!" grunted his colleague. "Sinoja hath the 
 cunning of a wild cat at a fish pool. Thinkest thou 
 that one priest shall work for the triumph of a rival 
 god ? Nay, we may leave the poison cup unfilled. 
 Eh! he cometh!" 
 
 The shuffle of a white man's boots, the murmur 
 of a voice preceded a grunt like a hippopotamus and 
 the dull light glinted on the fetish of the white man 
 on a tree swinging beneath a bald pate ; then with 
 another grunt and a vast sigh into the hut rose the 
 figure of the Vat, his girth blocking the doorway. 
 Wiping the sweat from his red face the white priest 
 blinked in the gloom, snorting at the odours. As he
 
 asked a convert, who had entered behind and was 
 carrying a basket and an unlighted lantern, to light 
 the latter, the coppery figure of Sinoja drew nigh the 
 fire and spoke to the three who grunted in reply. 
 While the convert held the lantern the Vat turned to 
 the slender figure lying on the couch of cloths, peered, 
 muttered, looked around as if for a stool, and with 
 some difficulty knelt. Near him stood Sinoja watch- 
 ing; but the three medicine men neither spoke nor 
 had moved from the fire, although their eyes never 
 ceased from observing. From within his black robe 
 the white priest brought a tiny stick which glistened 
 in the light and that he thrust beneath the armpit of 
 the youth. 
 
 "Another fetish," murmured Sinoja. 
 
 Once the boy moved restlessly and the object fell. 
 Sinoja regarded it intently as the Vat picked it up and 
 replaced it. Then silently the white priest sat watch- 
 ing the face of Tapakwe as if making an incantation. 
 
 "The youth is very sick," he said in a low voice 
 to his companion. "If they had asked me before my 
 medicine would be good, but who can say now! Do 
 thou get me a large calabash of water, O Mata." 
 
 "Aye, master," returned the man humbly, and 
 the Vat taking the lantern from him, he went over 
 to ask the medicine men; but they only grunted, and 
 the most ancient mumbled that their blood should 
 not pay for what the white man did. 
 
 "Master," Mata said in a whisper in his ear, "thy 
 life is in danger, for these men are frightened and if 
 the boy dies they will say that thou hast bewitched 
 him." 
 
 132
 
 "Aye, that I know," returned the white priest. 
 "Do thou my bidding." 
 
 Then Sinoja being appealed to called softly for 
 a slave and bade him bring the water. In the light 
 of the lantern the white priest looked carefully over 
 the body of the youth and when he saw the marks 
 of the searing irons upon his belly and thighs he made 
 sucking noises with his mouth and at the touch of the 
 dry skin he shook his head. Then turning to Sinoja 
 he said quietly but in a tone of a chief to his man : 
 
 "Answer these questions if thou wouldst that thy 
 chief's son should live. How many suns hath he 
 been sick!" 
 
 "More than on a man's two hands," Sinoja replied 
 and, turning, asked the medicine men but they would 
 not reply. 
 
 "Was it long after the circumcision rites ?" 
 
 "The same number of days," replied Sinoja. 
 
 Again he examined the crotch of the boy and 
 turning said: 
 
 "There is poison in the blood of the lad - 
 
 "Demons, as the medicine men have said," 
 concurred Sinoja. 
 
 "Nay! Nay!" retorted the white priest as one 
 bitten by a gape fly. "Poison, I tell thee. Thou 
 knowest that when a man shall drink of the poison 
 ordeal he may die ? This is the same ; but the poison 
 is in his blood." 
 
 "Eh!" grunted Sinoja apparently impressed. 
 "Then who hath put it there, O white priest ?" 
 
 "Nobody hath put it there. It is the dirt. He 
 has not been washed properly. Knowest thou not
 
 when a warrior is wounded that if he be not swiftly 
 cared for he will fall sick of of a hot sickness and 
 perhaps die?" 
 
 "Nay," corrected Sinoja solemnly. "That is 
 because the enemies have made magic against him and 
 his fetish is weak." 
 
 "Hearest thou ?" said the white priest to Mata. 
 
 "Aye, master, but if they would but listen to thy 
 words " 
 
 "Enough!" said the Vat. "Give me that cloth 
 in the basket and the water." 
 
 And only then did he withdraw the magic stick 
 from the armpit of the boy and, gazing at it once more, 
 made the sucking noise and shook his head. From 
 without came a sudden scream of agony and the 
 rumble of the King's laughter. 
 
 "If that fetish is weak," advised Sinoja as one 
 advising a colleague, "try the other big one." 
 
 "I tell thee neither is a fetish," retorted the white 
 priest as he laved the boy's body. "That is to tell 
 me how hot is his blood and it is very hot indeed, so 
 that I do not think I can save his life. Dost hear ?" 
 
 "I hear, white man," said Sinoja and glanced 
 towards the mute medicine men. "Then the demon 
 must be very powerful." 
 
 The white did not respond but, taking another 
 fetish which seemed like to the first one, he raised the 
 body and thrust it into the buttock and squeezed. 
 
 "Eh!" grunted Sinoja impressed. "Another fetish!" 
 
 "Nay! Nay! It is medicine of herbs such as 
 thy medicine men put in the mouth. Dost under- 
 stand ?"
 
 "Eh! thou puttest another demon to fight the 
 hot demon," said Sinoja with an air of great wisdom. 
 "Wise are the white men!" 
 
 "On the morrow morning will Mata come and 
 give him medicine," said the white priest, "and in 
 the evening will I come again, but thou must not give 
 him any medicine of thine own or of these men here. 
 Dost understand ?" 
 
 "Thus shall it be, white man," returned Sinoja. 
 But as soon as the bulk of the white priest had left 
 the hut he slipped back to the sick boy. As another 
 rumble of laughter and the twanging of a distant lyre 
 sounded, he deftly thrust with a finger a tiny pill no 
 bigger than a seed down the sick boy's throat and, 
 rising, said to the three medicine men: 
 
 "The white man forgot to give all his medicine, 
 but do ye take heed not to as much as lay a finger on 
 the whelp of the Lion lest ye be put to the poison 
 ordeal an he die." 
 
 "We hear," they answered. 
 
 A wise fisherman testeth his net besides making offerings 
 
 to the god. 
 
 Under the ancient fig tree of Tchoon squatted 
 the Black Baboon his back against the bole, the hunch 
 thrusting forward the pumpkin head so that the chin
 
 swayed over the shrunken thighs. Opposite to him 
 sat Sinoja upon his stool, a patch of sunlight making 
 shadows of the two trees of wool on the newly shaven 
 skull like a dried gourd. On the hot afternoon air 
 floated laughter and shrill voices from the adjoining 
 compound of the temple vestals. For the full of an 
 arm span of shadow had the twain held council on 
 the affairs of the tribe jester and priest. 
 
 "Eh!" said Sinoja, "thou didst vaunt the trap 
 setting on the white; yet, although the elephant hath 
 bitten at the white goat, long will it be before the 
 hunter shall come, and is my pit set for a lighter hoof. 
 The priests of the white god shall soon make good 
 slaves to Tchoon in ghostland." 
 
 "Eh!" retorted Mtesa, "thou seeth from the 
 bottom of a well. None knoweth the soul of a white 
 save the old baboon. The mind of the white is like 
 to that of a child. But his magic is stronger than 
 ours. Are the words of his god not, 'Thou shalt not 
 kill' ? Therefore must he by cunning and magic 
 cause those whom he would devour to strike the first ; 
 then may his god aid him in the battle but not until 
 the taboo be first fulfilled. Verily thou hast swallowed 
 more of the bait than the elephant!" 
 
 "But how," continued Sinoja as one who hath mud 
 in the ears, "may one god overset many gods ? Hath not 
 Tchoon ordained that they be slain for his pleasure ?" 
 
 Sinoja scratched his crotch meticulously. 
 
 "The voice of the god," responded Mtesa, 
 "dwelleth in the heart which is the market place!" 
 
 In the lashless eyes of the medium was a flicker 
 like sun upon a distant spear point. 
 
 136
 
 "Am I not 'the voice of the god' ?" he retorted. 
 "How then may I do other than obey the ghost ?" 
 
 The gaze of the jester locked with that of the 
 priest like an old warrior who, having a young buck 
 at the turn of the wrist on a spear, seeketh silent 
 acknowledgment of surrender; but the bald face of 
 Sinoja was like to a boulder. 
 
 "Aye," agreed Mtesa, "thou art 'the voice of the 
 god' !" and added slowly : "and only with the dead 
 dwelleth wisdom!" 
 
 Then said Sinoja as one turning from the trail of a 
 wounded quarry in favour of another : 
 
 "If a wife walk in the plantains by night with a 
 stranger who shall say that her husband shall not soon 
 have work for his spear?" 
 
 "Ugh." 
 
 "Many are they that would aid him, for in the 
 clans of the Leopard and the Guinea Fowl are many 
 hot words for the ghosts of the chiefs are wrath and 
 who shall avenge them?" 
 
 "Aye," agreed the Black Baboon, "but before the 
 shepherd is taken another should be chosen lest the 
 herd wander and are taken by wild dogs." 
 
 "There is but one who sitteth in the shadow of 
 the lion rug." 
 
 "Aye, but what dog will hunt when the bitch is in 
 heat ? If the belly be empty the spear arm be weak." 
 
 "If the quarry be in the house of the King where- 
 fore doth not the hunter seek it?" queried Sinoja. 
 
 "Shall the jackal pursue the fowl into the house 
 of the owner?" returned Mtesa who knew not yet 
 that Tsabi was in the hands of the white priest. "Let
 
 her rest there that his hunger may be whetted when 
 the drum sounds." 
 
 "Aye," assented Sinoja, "and that be not long 
 for but now the trap is sprung!" 
 
 And as he spoke came the single boom of a big 
 drum followed by a rumble of many and then again 
 the single boom and the wailing of women. 
 
 "Eh ! an ill omen for him that sitteth beneath the 
 shadow of the lion rug!" muttered the Black Baboon, 
 reading from the rhythm that Tapakwe, the son of the 
 King, was dead with the consequence that Chwa was 
 now direct heir to the throne, a position of extreme 
 danger. Making his farewell the jester rose. 
 
 "Eh!" murmured Sinoja to himself as he watched 
 the bent figure passing the compound fence, "now 
 shall the gods be avenged ; and, if the fool remaineth 
 a fool, then shall he also die in the poison ordeal for 
 having bewitched the son of the King ; aye, and the 
 elephant himself shall reward me with the girl for 
 having exorcised the demon in the path. 
 
 and while the leopard was drinking the dog gobbled up 
 all the ants and filled the package with dry grass. . . 
 
 Folk Story. 
 
 In the Council House was Matanga seated in the 
 midst of his court. The small prominent eyes were 
 
 138
 
 like the yolk of a stale egg, the lids puffed, and the 
 fleshy features blotched as if by a fungoid growth. 
 Many of the chiefs were likewise marked and all were 
 those who wore the calico robes. The mien of certain 
 of the nude was that of a buffalo in a game pit and 
 their glances at each other like to the slinking of the 
 jackal. The countenance of Panga, the prime minister, 
 was that of a sick child. In the painted face of the 
 Black Baboon, huddled at the royal feet, the spear point 
 eyes resembled a hunter selecting the fattest of a herd 
 of buck. On two stools sat the Brass-Eater and the 
 Stork before the King. The Brass-Eater was leaning 
 forward speaking the words from the large white 
 talking leaf he held in his hands. 
 
 "And in all the country of the King shall only 
 these white men whose names are marked have the 
 power to seek for yellow and black metals that are 
 hidden in the rocks; And stones that lie in the earth; 
 And of the trees that grow in the forest of the King 
 to them only shall belong those that bleed white blood 
 like to milk; And to them only the power to build 
 white men's houses, and upon the river to have demon 
 canoes ; And to make other beasts of iron which shall 
 run by fire and water on roads that are of iron in the 
 manner of the white man ; And to them only the power 
 to trade for all manner of things that the King and 
 his people shall require, cloths, hoes, and knives, and 
 demon water and firesticks; And all the brothers of 
 these white men shall be free to pass where they shall 
 wish without harm and the people of the Wajojo shall 
 aid them; And when the white men shall require it 
 shall the King send his slaves and people so that
 
 they may work in the fields of the white men and 
 wherever else they shall ask; And for every moon 
 of work shall each receive ten yards of cloth and to the 
 King five yards for each man; And all these things 
 shall be for the white men as it is marked and to the 
 sons of these white men and their sons after them 
 for as many moons as there are grains of sand in the 
 river; And for these gifts of the royal hand shall the 
 white men every moon make presents of ten cases of 
 demon water, a thousand rolls of calico, white and 
 coloured, and 
 
 Then the ears of the King which had been closed, 
 opened, and his eyes, which had wandered towards 
 a pile of cases a man's height on the top of which were 
 two firesticks, like a dog's gaze towards offal, returned. 
 
 "And above all these things," continued the voice 
 of the Brass- Eater, "shall the King give ear to the 
 words of the white man's god and only to the brethren 
 of this priest whom ye call the Stork ; And these things 
 shall be done to which the white men pledge the words 
 of their god, and Matanga, the son of Moka Nkwaza, 
 the King shall pledge the words of his gods 
 
 The Stork, who had begun to rub the palms of 
 his hands ceased and spoke to the Brass-Eater as one 
 seeking to tie grasses in a path; and the Brass-Eater 
 laughed and replied as a man giving a small present 
 of no value in order to gain much. The bloodshot 
 eyes of the King looked peevishly about the assembly, 
 for among certain of the chiefs and those who were 
 nude were many words threshing to and fro. Then 
 cried the Black Baboon suddenly in the shrill clown's 
 voice : 
 
 140
 
 "Ho, brothers! is not the pit but poorly baited? 
 What say ye of a lion that is trapped for the sake of a 
 starved kid ?" 
 
 At the jester's words a murmur rose from the 
 assembly like the first sough of an approaching 
 storm. 
 
 "Quiet, O fool!" commanded Matanga. 
 
 "Nay, O King," retorted Mtesa turning his head 
 to grimace into the royal eyes, "a jester is master of 
 words as a king of men, but if the fool sold words as 
 cheaply as thou sellest men then indeed shall the fool 
 be quiet having none left!" 
 
 Another murmur greeted this sally and as Matanga 
 glared angrily around a chief of bloated features in a 
 white robe, one of the King's cup companions, shouted 
 wrathfully : 
 
 "Who is the hyena that howleth at the King ? 
 The King is the king and who shall deny him?" 
 
 "The buffalo bird is small and the buffalo mighty, 
 but the chattering bird seeth the enemy afar off when 
 the buffalo is yet blind." 
 
 Then on all fours the Black Baboon scrambled 
 forward and, in front of the two whites, rattling his 
 seed-pods and grimacing, shrilled out : 
 
 "The tongue of the white is like an ant bear's, 
 After the black ant it burroweth deep! 
 Deep in the nest to the seat of the queen! 
 The breath is a demon making them drunk! 
 Making them white as the gleam of his teeth! 
 Take heed to the bear, his belly is large ! 
 And gnawed by a rat can never be filled! 
 
 Eh!" 
 
 141 
 
 10
 
 "Enough, fool!" called Panga in a hoarse voice. 
 "Thy words are as offal before the King." 
 
 "Eh ! even as whites are in the nostrils of a fool !" 
 retorted the jester and sidled back to his place. 
 
 A low grunting murmur greeted the phrase at 
 which the King, gripping his sacred spear, angrily 
 glared at a chief bearing the leopard skin across the 
 shoulders, a man with a white tuft of wool and wild 
 eyes who came from the distant north. 
 
 "O King," said the Brass-Eater who had ceased 
 talking to the Stork, "as we have promised so shall 
 we do!" and rising he walked over to Matanga carrying 
 the talking leaf and a small black stick like ebony which 
 bled black water making the marks with which white 
 men speak at a distance. Matanga regarded it as one 
 might unknown magic and drew back his hand as 
 the white attempted to thrust the stick into his 
 fingers. 
 
 "Nay," said Matanga, "this is white man's magic. 
 It is thou who makest thy magic and I, the King, who 
 have given thee my word." 
 
 "That is true, O King," replied the Brass-Eater, 
 smiling "but that is not the way of the white man. 
 When thou hast made thy mark then may I shew it 
 to my brethren that they may know my words are true 
 words." 
 
 "Did the fool not say," screamed the Black Baboon 
 swiftly, "that no white man will take the words of a 
 brother ? Ho ! the words of a white are like to a wild 
 flower that dieth as soon as it is plucked!" 
 
 "Thy tongue shall be cut," growled Panga, "if 
 thou ceasest not." 
 
 142
 
 "If I were a white," retorted Mtesa, "thou couldst 
 cut an arm's span and I wot nothing of it!" 
 
 A gust of deep grunting laughter rose. The 
 King scowled peevishly and shrank away again as the 
 Brass-Eater thrust forward the paper. 
 
 "Nay, nay," he replied angrily, "I will not touch 
 it. Thou hast my words." 
 
 "As thou wilt," said the Brass-Eater indifferently, 
 returning to his stool, "but if thou wilt not then all 
 these words are as water between us, and" he glanced 
 significantly at the pile of cases "we must take back 
 our presents." 
 
 Matanga glanced anxiously towards the presents 
 and then, bending, whispered to his minister Panga 
 at his feet beside him. A murmur of discussion 
 broke out among the assembly. Then came the loud 
 strong voice of the chief of the Leopard Clan. 
 
 "O King, the son of Mamboza claimeth the 
 word!" 
 
 Matanga looked up and scowled, but he replied 
 as the custom was : 
 
 "And what is the word, O chief?" 
 
 "The people of my clan murmur and say that the 
 King hath not made obeisance and asked of the oracle 
 at the shrine of his father if this thing be good." 
 
 Matanga's thick lips tightened as he asked with 
 a sneer like a leopard snarling: 
 
 "Who art thou that thou shouldst spit out the 
 words of the King?" 
 
 "He speaketh white words, O King," came a 
 voice from a younger man, a chief of the Guinea 
 Fowl Clan.
 
 For answer Matanga's small eyes flashed with 
 anger and he made a sign with the right hand in re- 
 sponse to which the waiting royal guard without rushed 
 in. The two chiefs who had dared question the auto- 
 crat were surrounded and their skins of office torn 
 from their shoulders. As they walked out in the 
 midst of their escort, eyes flashing, head erect, to the 
 place of execution, the Stork arose crying : 
 
 "O chief, thou hast " 
 
 But the arm of the Brass-Eater caught and pulled 
 him back to his seat, speaking in the white man's 
 tongue in anger. Again the King whispered to Panga 
 who called out: 
 
 "Are there more goats who desire to butt the 
 elephant ?" 
 
 To his challenge there was no answer save an 
 indistinct mutter. Turning to the white men Panga 
 continued : 
 
 "The King will do as the white man asks for his 
 magic is stronger than theirs, but for that they must 
 give two more cases of demon water. Is it good ?" 
 
 "It is good!" answered the Brass-Eater and 
 stepping forward he held the talking leaf and the King 
 touched the magic stick; then in silence save for the 
 murmur of the village without the Brass-Eater made 
 marks and, as after him the Stork did likewise, on the 
 face of the Brass-Eater was the laugh of triumph. 
 
 "See! See!" cried the Black Baboon. "The 
 face of the man who hath sold a sick cow to a neigh- 
 bour!" 
 
 "Quiet, thou fool!" growled Matanga, his eyes 
 caressing the pile of cases, "lest I slay thee." 
 
 144
 
 "I am but a flea upon the King's thigh," returned 
 Mtesa, "but now thou hast put jiggers on thy feet 
 which shall burrow deep and lay many eggs so 
 many that thou shalt walk no more! When the fool 
 turns prophet then indeed must the King take the 
 fool's place!"
 
 BOOK II
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 i 
 Doth a monkey give away nuts? 
 
 In the compound of the Stork in the shade of the 
 eaves of a small hut squatted the girl Tsabi. The blue 
 sheen of her skull was overlaid with black stubble 
 like a newly reaped field ; her arms lay across her thighs 
 of dull ebony like unstrung bows; and her eyes were 
 as stars seen through mist. 
 
 From the half built temple against the falling sun 
 floated the chanting of spells like to the humming of 
 bees. From afar rose the beat of a small drum and 
 the bleating of goats. The gorge of Tsabi was like 
 to a newly caught fish in a canoe and her heart was 
 sunk within her body like a stone at the bottom of a 
 pool. 
 
 Was she not as a fawn in a game trap awaiting 
 the hunter ? Who could save her ? None ; not even 
 Chwa, for mighty and powerful that he was, brother 
 of the Black Lion and Prince of Lions, who could 
 fight against gods ? Yet what meaning had the son 
 of Tapoza causing her to be brought to the camp of 
 the white priest ? Knew she well that she was as one 
 bound with many bonds, for how could she sally 
 
 149
 
 forth into the village or forest, she whom all men knew 
 to be doomed to be handmaid to Tchoon and as nigh 
 ghostland as a throat slitted chicken ? Eh ! welled 
 within her like a freshet the blood of a woman ! Swollen 
 were her nostrils at the scent of her man acrid and 
 sweet as sorghum and beer! Aie! but was she not as 
 a nestling fleeing and stricken by arrows! Aie! 
 was her tongue not like to ashes ? her spine as a grass 
 blade ? Eh ! how could she ease the thirst of her 
 breasts and the ache of her bowels yearning like flowers 
 for the flight of the bee ? 
 
 And to her as she sat chewing the leaf of the aloe 
 came the white priestess and seating herself on a stool 
 she had brought spoke words that were aimed as a 
 child casts a spear. 
 
 "Wherefore, my child," said she in the words of 
 the white which are like to an old road across a swamp 
 of papyrus, "wilt thou not open thine ears to the words 
 of the god who died to save thee even as thy sisters 
 and brothers do there in the temple ?" 
 
 "Am I not," said Tsabi, whose eyes were those of 
 a wounded deer as the hunter places the knife, "a 
 vestal doomed to a god ?" 
 
 "Nay, nay," assured the Egg-Eater, "thou art 
 not doomed to the idol of thy tribe. He is a god of 
 blood and evil; ours is a god of love and forgiveness. 
 With us shall no man nor god of thy folk come to wound 
 thee. Wilt thou not kneel and ask of his help ?" 
 
 "Who without goods in his hands shall ask aid 
 of a god?" 
 
 "Nay, nay, he asks of thee nothing, but giveth 
 all things."
 
 "Aye," retorted Tsabi, "thy god giveth cloths 
 which cost much and demon water which maketh man 
 mad. Eh!" 
 
 "Cloths he giveth thee," answered the white 
 priestess as one unarmed meeting a snake chooseth 
 another path, "that thou mayest cover thy nakedness 
 not having having to look the other way as when thy 
 man's mother shall pass." 
 
 "Teh!" exclaimed Tsabi whose eyelids were 
 drawn up, "how may that be, white woman ? Dost 
 thou look upon the mother of thy man?" 
 
 "Such things," replied the Egg-Eater, "are but 
 pebbles for children to play with." 
 
 "Tcha!" 
 
 "But for thee hast thou no shame that all men 
 may see thy body ? Do not all the whites cover them- 
 selves and women even as I do to hide their evil ?" 
 
 "How then shall a man know whether my body 
 is good ? Shall a man buy an ox he hath not seen ? 
 How may we know thee ? Belike thou art flat of 
 buttock and bosom and thigh ? The breasts of our men 
 are like to broad shields, their limbs to elephant trunks, 
 and their bellies to smoothen stones ! Thy man - 
 
 "Be quiet !" commanded the white woman and her 
 face was like to a chili. "Thou art but a child and must 
 needs learn or be whipped." 
 
 Tsabi gazed upon her white sister as one regards 
 another touched in the head. 
 
 "Eh! be those the ways of the whites even as it 
 is said? Eh! Hath not the Black Baboon said that 
 their words are also clad in cloth that ye may not know 
 what is within? Ehh!"
 
 "Thou shalt not cross words with me," began 
 the Egg-Eater as one whose fetish has been soiled, 
 when Tsabi uttered a small cry. 
 
 The white priestess looked around and rose. 
 Striding towards them was Chwa, something on the 
 oiled chest gleaming in the sun, flashing brighter than 
 the blade of the stabbing spear he bore. Hot- eyed 
 he sank upon his heels before the girl saluting her. 
 
 "Hast thou then bought the ear of the King, 
 O my lord ?" she asked through set teeth. 
 
 "Nay. Hearest thou not the drums ? Ere as 
 many suns as an ox hath hooves shall I be even as thou, 
 for he who walketh in the shadow of the lion rug is as 
 one walking on a game path set with traps. I come 
 to take thee from the place of the white priest." 
 
 "Eh!" whispered Tsabi, "but Sinoja hath ordained 
 that the white " 
 
 "Nay, he is but a broken reed; for have I not the 
 fetish of the white god himself?" 
 
 "Ehh!" grunted the girl suddenly aware of the 
 flashing image of the white man upon a tree, "hast 
 thou then knelt before the white god ?" 
 
 "Ugh!" replied Chwa, "shall a man not take the 
 enemy's spear with which to slay him ? Where is 
 the white priest ?" he added, wresting his eyes from 
 the dark moons of her breasts. 
 
 "Begone, thou savage!" came the voice of the 
 Egg-Eater as a child throwing sand at a baobab. 
 
 Chwa turned his head and his gaze passed the face 
 of the white woman as though she were but a sapling. 
 As from the temple emerged a small throng of the 
 converts and the tall figure of the Stork, the Egg-Eater
 
 cried out to her man as a parrot screeches at the shadow 
 of a hawk. Across the compound walked the Stork 
 even as he was named and to him his woman chattered 
 like an angry monkey. Like a herd of buck remained 
 afar the converts gabbling. Chwa watched the Stork 
 muttering white men's words. With the gesture of 
 one casting away empty shells the white priestess left 
 him. As the Stork approached the eyes of Tsabi 
 were as a cloud passing across the moon and the face 
 of Chwa like to porridge cooling. 
 
 "Greeting, O chief!" saluted the white man. 
 "Hast thou also come to hear the words of the one god ?" 
 
 "Greeting, white priest," returned Chwa. "I 
 come to take away Tsabi, the daughter of the Plantain." 
 
 "But that may not be," returned the Stork, "for 
 she hath been brought by the priest, Sinoja, that she 
 may eat of the words of the white man's god. Soon 
 shall Sinoja himself come and all the people," he 
 added, rubbing his palms. 
 
 "Thou seest this fetish ?" demanded Chwa. 
 
 The white man gazed at the crucifix as a man at 
 a miracle. 
 
 ''Where where didst thou get that ?" he queried 
 with the sharpness of anger. 
 
 "Is this not thy powerful fetish ?" 
 
 "Nay !"denied the Stork. 
 
 "Dost thou not kneel before this fetish in thy 
 temple ?" 
 
 "Aye, but " 
 
 The Stork paused like a man hunting for weapons 
 that he hath not. 
 
 "Hast thou then knelt before the Katoliki god ?"
 
 he inquired, speaking as a merchant who hath lost 
 a good bargain. 
 
 "Nay," replied Chwa, "but it is a powerful fetish 
 of the white man given me by thy brother priest, the 
 White Ape." He rose holding up the crucifix. "Rise, 
 girl, and follow me." 
 
 As Tsabi obeyed, the Stork waved his hands and 
 sought to step between them crying: 
 
 "Nay! nay! thou shalt not take her! She is in 
 my hands and " 
 
 "Art thou then stronger than thy fetish ?" 
 demanded Chwa thrusting the crucifix into the face 
 of the white man who, staring like a man confronting 
 one possessed by a demon, made yet more gestures, 
 placing a hand upon the chief's shoulders. 
 
 "Thou shalt not touch the girl, O chief! She 
 is in my hands!" 
 
 The eyes of Chwa were those of a child whose 
 first bow has broken in his hands. 
 
 "Hath then thy fetish no power over thee ?" he 
 murmured. 
 
 Then over his face swept a thunder cloud. Shak- 
 ing off the white man's hand he snapped the fibre 
 about his neck and cast the crucifix upon the ground. 
 
 "Stand back, white man, or I slay!" he growled, 
 raising the short spear. "I am Chwa, prince of the 
 Lions ' 
 
 As the Stork stepped back a pace Tsabi uttered a 
 sharp cry of warning. Through the gate of the 
 compound strode three young chiefs of the royal guard, 
 their spears flashing and their oiled bodies gleaming. 
 Chwa, lowering the point of his weapon, became as
 
 tense as a lion at bay. But as they advanced they 
 saluted him in the customary manner according to 
 his rank and then, turning to the Stork, the leader 
 said haughtily: 
 
 "The royal one hath need of this girl!" 
 Ignoring the protestations of the Stork he pushed 
 him roughly aside, ordering Tsabi, whose limbs were 
 trembling like grass blades in a breeze, to follow. 
 Casting one glance at her lord who stood as motionless 
 as a tree she obeyed. As his head turned slightly to 
 watch them depart the eyes were like to a stricken 
 leopard's and his chest was swollen, but the features 
 remained like a cooking pot. Slowly, with great 
 strides, he left the Stork still scolding like to a bird 
 in a tree and from the white man's house broke out 
 the gabble of the folk. 
 
 2 
 Only an ant-bear knows the ways of an ant-bear. 
 
 Within a hut in the compound of the chief wife 
 of the King and the mother of the dead boy, Tapakwe, 
 upon fresh plantain fronds on a low couch of skins 
 lay the body of the child washed with beer and smeared 
 with butter by the chief medicine man; his small 
 black hands crossed upon his bosom were tied, as were 
 the great toes, with strings of ivory beads. At the 
 back of the hut squatted the mother whose breasts 
 were painted with ashes and upon whose face were
 
 streaks of white, guarding the body night and day. 
 Around the eaves of the hut squatted the rest of the 
 wives and concubines of the royal father, each in 
 turn, or in groups of two or three, wailing and beating 
 their breasts until they were exhausted when another 
 band immediately took up the death lament. To 
 them when the distant bell of the white god was still 
 clanging came a procession led by Matanga in person 
 who for so solemn a duty was compelled to discard 
 his white clothes in favour of the ancient custom, 
 walking nude save for the girdle of withered plantain 
 leaves and ash-streaked face; behind him followed 
 Panga and then Chwa and the remainder of the chiefs 
 and councillors. To the continuous boom and 
 thunder of the drums and the shrieks of the mourners 
 the King, swaying from side to side, entered and 
 kneeling before the corpse bowed his head to the 
 ground; then, when seeking to place an ivory bead in 
 the bowl beside the couch, he lurched and sprawled 
 upon the ground. 
 
 "Eh!" gasped several of the chiefs huddled in 
 the crowded hut, "the King falls! An ill omen!" 
 
 "Teh!" exclaimed Panga, seeking to excuse the 
 sacrilege, "'tis an enchantment of the whites!" and 
 with several others hurried to pick up the drunken 
 King who, with their assistance, clambered to his 
 knees. 
 
 Then came a pause when each man remained as 
 if turned to a tree, waiting anxiously to see what their 
 lord would do. His bloodshot yellow eyes staring 
 unseeingly, he swayed heavily in the supporting arms 
 and, trying to stand, nigh fell across the corpse of his 
 
 156
 
 son. Mutterings and murmurs of fear arose. Then 
 urged by powerful hands Matanga staggered to his 
 feet and Panga and the other chief, whispering to others 
 to hold their lord, hurriedly completed their taboo 
 before the body; then returning to the royal charge, 
 placed his listless hand upon the forehead, performed 
 the ceremony themselves, and hurried him out of the 
 hut to his own enclosure where according to the 
 custom he was supposed to remain unseen until the 
 end of the mourning. 
 
 Yet when those who had seen came out none 
 said a word to his peers for fear of the King's wrath, 
 waiting until they were together to discuss what 
 magical steps the three medicine men would take to 
 pacify the ghost and what the omen portended; and 
 amongst those who knew was but one, save Chwa, who 
 was of the faction of the nude, the new chief of the 
 Leopard Clan from the south who was called Noona. 
 And when the rest of the great chiefs had performed 
 the prescribed ritual followed the lesser and after 
 them the clan of the Lion. 
 
 And during these days of mourning while the 
 drums boomed and rolled throughout the land hot 
 food was not eaten, for no fire save the smouldering 
 embers was allowed to be lighted, and no work done, 
 and all men and women sat about wearing the wreath 
 of withered plantains around their waists mourning 
 for the death of the son of the King. And at the 
 hour of the cock on the fourth day when within the 
 hut to the acrid odours of sweat and rancid butter 
 amid the buzzing of the flies was added the stench of 
 the dead, came chiefs of the clan of the Rat whose 
 
 11
 
 hereditary duty was to guard and tend the various 
 royal tombs; also assembled the princes still clad in 
 their insignia of grief, to placate the ghost. 
 
 As the tiny body, on a light platform of bamboo 
 and rattan, was brought out of the hut feet first, borne 
 by the four chiefs smeared in ash and white from head 
 to foot, the rhythm of the drums changed so that 
 the people throughout the land should know what 
 was toward. Through the outer gates of the King's 
 enclosure filed the van of royal guards, their magnif- 
 icent oiled limbs shining in the morning sun like 
 polished ebony and their spears a caravan of stars. 
 Behind them walked the chief of the Rat Clan, a shriv- 
 elled old man whose nude body was like a dried water 
 skin, bearing a hoe, and two young chiefs carrying 
 respectively a white cock and a calabash of beer; 
 behind them were led a white milch cow and a white 
 she-goat; then walked, still wailing and beating her 
 breasts, which were streaked with congealed blood and 
 ashes, the mother of the dead; in her wake followed 
 the King whose blotched and bloated face glared resent- 
 fully from the shoulders of his bearer, leading the 
 chiefs and councillors. Through the centre of the 
 village wound the procession fifty spear casts' long 
 to the screeching of the women beating their breasts 
 and wailing: 
 
 "The son of the Lion hath flown away! Aie! 
 Aieeeee!" 
 
 When they were come to the temple of Tchoon 
 the guard swerved to the right and left and, led by the 
 chiefs of the Rat Clan bearing and leading their offer- 
 ings, passed his brethren who within the compound 
 
 158
 
 turned aside each in his turn so that the dead might 
 be borne alone into the shrine followed solely by the 
 father, the King, the uncle, Chwa, and the nearest 
 relatives. And while they were within the temple 
 those without redoubled their shrieks and wails, men 
 and women, warriors and slaves. 
 
 In the inner chamber before the shrine they 
 placed the corpse and the mourners made obeisance 
 to the god. Amid the stench and acrid sweat Sinoja, 
 the priest, smoked the sacred pipe and swooned as 
 the spirit entered into him, and, with inverted eyes 
 and quivering limbs, issued from his tight closed 
 mouth the wishes of the dead. 
 
 I am an elephant sunk in a swamp ! 
 
 Aieeeee ! 
 
 My feet are bound by the demons of Tchoon ! 
 
 Aieeeee ! 
 
 My soul is tied to the hut of my twin ! 
 
 Aieeeee ! 
 
 My heart is stuck to the bed of my death ! 
 
 Aieeeee ! 
 
 The shrill lament of the mourners, save for the 
 King who grunted in fear, rose like a mad bird in a 
 storm against the thunder of the drums and the wail- 
 ing of the people without. 
 
 My gall is pecked by the bird of the house ! 
 
 Aieeeee ! 
 
 My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth ! 
 
 Aieeeee ! 
 
 My throat is held by the hand of my slave ! 
 
 Aieeeee ! 
 
 159
 
 Aid my escape from the earth, O my god! 
 
 Aieeeee ! 
 
 In ghostland I seek to find my black dam! 
 
 Aieeeee ! 
 
 Young maidens and men to three score and ten ! 
 
 Aieeeee ! 
 
 To tend to my wants in the land of the gods ! 
 
 Aieeeee ! 
 
 A white fowl to eat and a white goat as well! 
 
 Aieeeee ! 
 
 A milch cow of white as a present to him ! 
 
 Aieeeee ! 
 
 The god of the Lion, the god of the earth! 
 
 Aieeeee ! 
 
 I pray to my uncle to cut my soul free ! 
 
 Aieeeee ! 
 
 I pray to thee, Tchoon, to take me to thee! 
 
 Aieeeee ! 
 
 When the end of the lament had melted like a 
 puff of smoke to the hut roof in the thunder from 
 without, Chwa rose upon his knees and leaning 
 forward performed the funeral office of cutting the 
 strings of beads that bound the hands and the great 
 toes of the corpse. Then from the rigid lips of the 
 priest issued the dread prophecy of the dead : 
 
 I smell the white feet of strangers! 
 
 Their breath is as hot as a fire ! 
 
 Consuming the folk and the land! 
 
 Their skins are like to stripped plantains! 
 
 As a roof of a hut is their heart! 
 
 Their words are arrows and poisoned 
 
 As those of the dwarfs of the wood ! 
 
 One hath made dire magic upon me! 
 
 A soul of my father is trapped ! 
 
 Beware that he break not his spear! 
 
 1 60
 
 One cometh my tomb to disturb ! 
 He willeth my escort eschew! 
 A prince stand in ghostland alone ? 
 All these that I see have been doomed 
 To dance before Tchoon himself, 
 Making my words of great merit! 
 See that my people not fail me, 
 Or Tchoon shall venge me this moon! 
 If the spear of the King be split 
 Who hath cut my soul strings is he 
 For whom the royal drums shall speak! 
 And on no path of his kingdom 
 Shall the foot of a white be smelt! 
 
 Without rolled the drums and the wailing of the 
 people; within the stench of the corpse mingled with 
 the odour of human sweat. As slowly the priest's 
 rigid body quivered as life returned, the bloodshot 
 gaze of Matanga twisted in the gloom toward 
 the dull gleaming shoulders of his half brother, 
 Chwa, with the glare of a hyena at bay, and those 
 that were there were witness of the eyes of the 
 King. 
 
 Then when the time was come they went out of 
 the shrine and the bearers again raised their burden, 
 the royal bearer took up the King, and the others 
 followed in their order. As they passed through the 
 gate, Matanga, whose glances swept this and that, 
 was reminded by Panga to give the necessary order 
 and the lesser guards screaming their cry above the 
 roar of the multitude swept out to gather in women 
 and men to three score and ten as the dead prince 
 had chosen. 
 
 161
 
 Within an hundred arrow shots was the cemetery 
 of the Lions enclosed by a great fence in charge of the 
 clan of the Rat. As soon as the body had entered 
 the gate the great drums ceased and a silence fell 
 upon the people so that the distant lowing of cattle 
 at pasture and the shriek of a parrot was heard by all 
 men. But as the procession passed between the high 
 mounds of beaten earth which were the tombs, arose 
 not a whimper from the victims marching humbly 
 with the guards. 
 
 The ash-smeared figure of the King's chief wife 
 and mother of the dead bowed and was smitten as 
 the body, wrapped in plantain fronds and covered 
 in many skins for cold is ghostland, was placed within 
 the shallow grave, and toppled sideways. The royal 
 mourners stood back and the victims were placed in a 
 circle. The first, a woman, fell silently beneath the 
 club of the executioner. Came a harsh cry. Into 
 the sacred ground burst the figure of a tall white man 
 crying the words of his god: 
 
 "Thou shalt not kill! Thou shalt not kill!'* 
 
 As the King gave a sign with his hand and the 
 royal guards closed upon the Stork, rose a murmur 
 from the chiefs who had been within the shrine of 
 Tchoon ! 
 
 One cometh my tomb to disturb 
 He willeth my escort eschew ! 
 
 "Eh! Eh!" they muttered. "Hath he not 
 said?" 
 
 162
 
 3 
 There is always an extra burden for the scapegoat. 
 
 The purple shadows of the high plaited fence 
 of Chwa's enclosure had crept across the road, three 
 spear lengths wide, and was eating the base of the 
 other. On the still hot air a drum was slowly tapping 
 out a message and the cries of the returning herd- 
 boys mingled with the low of cattle and the bleat of 
 goats and the chant of a woman as she prepared the 
 evening meal. Near to the high gate upon a patch 
 of rank grass and wild convolvulus squatted two small 
 boys; between them was a piece of flat wood two 
 hands long and one broad in which were four rows of 
 holes burned deep. By their sides were small piles 
 of pebbles a little larger than cowrie shells which they 
 sought to flip into their respective holes. The younger 
 was as black as charred wood; the flesh was as firm 
 and as smooth as a plantain frond, and the melonlike 
 belly was that of childhood; he laughed and squealed 
 with delight when a stone of a greenish tint with a 
 greasy surface wobbled and settled over the last of his 
 holes. 
 
 "I win! I win!" shrieked Tanka, his teeth and 
 eyeballs flashing like paddles in the river. 
 
 "Nay, nay," cried the other child, Kazozi, whose 
 skin was like an elephant's in colour and texture. "It 
 hath not fallen in!" 
 
 "Eh!" retorted Chwa's son, "but that is the same 
 for hath not it slept upon the hole ? Eh !" 
 
 163
 
 "Nay, nay," retorted Kazozi, "my stones have 
 fallen within every one, but the last of thine hath not. 
 I win!" 
 
 "Nay, nay!" screeched Tanka, "thou son of a 
 slave, I tell thee that - 
 
 The words were swallowed in a ferocious grunt as 
 he lifted his body to meet his opponent's; the game 
 board and the pebbles were scattered as the four arms 
 like spear hafts interlocked and two woolly pates met 
 sideways like the clap of wood against wood; their 
 slender legs straddled wide, prehensile toes clutching 
 madly for a grip, trod upon the game board; swayed 
 to and fro amid pants and infantile growls. Suddenly 
 the younger's feet danced sideways and, clawing the 
 other's shoulders, he pulled. Aided by his own 
 strength and the impetus Kazozi shot forward on to 
 his face; but, clinging on, he dragged down Tanka 
 upon him. For many drum beats the two became a 
 thrashing of black and ash black limbs, squeals and 
 growls; then emerged Tanka victorious upon the 
 other's belly, both hands locked in the ample wool 
 while his own head butted downwards into the face 
 of the fallen, screaming: "I win, son of a slave; I win, 
 son of a slave !" 
 
 A muffled croak at another impact of the skulls 
 acknowledged defeat. Tanka swung off laughing 
 with glee. His back and loins were scratched; but 
 his adversary bore more marks, for his mouth was 
 bleeding and he spat out a tooth. 
 
 "Eh!" squealed Tanka, striking an attitude of a 
 warrior lifting a spear, "am I not the son of Chwa, 
 the mighty, the prince of Lions! Eh! Eh!" 
 
 164
 
 Kazozi, who was the son of a lesser chief, laughed 
 and straightway fell to picking up the scattered pebbles. 
 Then Tanka, still giggling with delight, helped him, 
 rescuing the stone which had caused the fight from 
 the tangle of the trampled grass. 
 
 Once more they squatted down and began to play. 
 
 As the shadows grew up the side of the opposite 
 fence, along the road from the direction of the gate 
 of the King's enclosure came a white man followed by 
 two of his servants. The steps of the Scolding Monkey 
 were those of a man after the feast of the full moon 
 of the cutting ; his small eyes were like a snapping 
 hyena; and in his ragged beard he muttered in white 
 man's talk. 
 
 "Eh!" exclaimed Kazozi starting up, "hither 
 cometh the white man. Let us go!" 
 
 "Teh!" boasted Tanka, "art indeed a son of a 
 slave ? The son of Chwa budgeth not for as many 
 white men as there are cowries on a string!" 
 
 Yet as he glanced over his shoulder small cater- 
 pillars seemed to be crawling up his naked spine, but 
 he remembered that he was a whelp of the prince of 
 Lions. Kazozi grunted and sank back upon his 
 haunches, but with the balls of his feet tensed ready 
 for flight. 
 
 "Eh!" said Tanka repeating the gossip of the 
 women, "they say that the demon of the white man's 
 water hath possessed him and that he sitteth in the 
 gate of the King from the going out to the coming 
 in of the cattle, seeking a white man's amulet!" 
 
 "Ugh!" grunted Kazozi, his teeth chattering as 
 he flipped the stone and missed the game board, 
 
 165
 
 "they say he would have slain the elephant himself 
 had not the magic of the old baboon bewitched him!" 
 
 "Teh!" scoffed Tanka and shrilled with con- 
 temptuous laughter as he succeeded in lodging the 
 disputed stone over another hole in which it was too 
 large to enter. The muttering white grew nearer. 
 Kazozi once more missed the board and his eyeballs 
 fluttered like white butterflies at dusk. 
 
 "Eh! he maketh spells!" he muttered uneasily. 
 
 Tanka threw and also missed the board as the 
 white man's feet shuffled and a voice rumbled angrily 
 close behind him. 
 
 "Eh!" said Tanka, but in a whisper, "why dost 
 thou not cast ?" 
 
 Kazozi did not reply for his lower lip was open 
 and he stared upwards like a bird at a snake. 
 
 "Eh !" continued Tanka, his small heart rattling like 
 seeds in a pod, picking up the greasy pebble and turning 
 the board upside down, "if thou wilt not play I " 
 
 The Scolding Monkey bent low as he said in 
 broken words : 
 
 "Give me that!" 
 
 "Give what, white man ?" responded Tanka gazing 
 up into the ravenous eyes set in the hairy face. 
 
 "That stone, boy, quick!" 
 
 A paw like a gorilla's stretched eagerly towards 
 Tanka 's right hand in which was clutched the greasy 
 stone of the dispute. 
 
 "Nay, nay," replied Tanka spiritedly, snatching 
 the hand out of reach, "the stone is mine!" 
 
 A torrent of white man's words tore from the 
 Scolding Monkey; and, as he laid a hand on the 
 
 166
 
 boy's shoulder, Kazozi squawked and rose to his feet. 
 
 "I will give thee " 
 
 "Touch me not, white man," retorted Tanka quiver- 
 ing like a grass stem in a breeze. "I am the son of Chwa." 
 
 A deep explosion from the white man made him 
 wet his thighs. Then he was plucked from the ground 
 by the left arm as the white man shouted : 
 
 "Give me that! Give me that!" 
 
 Kazozi fled screaming: "The white man is 
 killing us!" 
 
 Unable to understand what was meant Tanka, 
 clutching the stone he had picked up, began to struggle 
 furiously but silently. With a snarl like a hyena the 
 man hurled the small body around in the air and 
 seized the other wrist, shouting, "Give it to me! 
 Give it to me !" and his eyes were those of a leopard 
 deprived of her cubs. A wrench at the wrist broke 
 the slender bone. The hurt aroused the fighting 
 blood of the boy and he buried his teeth in the fore-arm 
 of the white-man, unconsciously dropping the stone. 
 With a muffled howl the white man flung him away so 
 violently that the child fell on his head and lay sense- 
 less. At that moment the two servants screamed and 
 ran; and, as the Scolding Monkey grasped the greasy 
 pebble that had rolled an arm's length away, Chwa 
 appeared at the entrance gate. He saw the white man 
 rising with something in his hand and the body of his 
 son lying prostrate in the road. A roar like the wough 
 of a lion rose from his deep chest and a short stabbing 
 spear flashed in the last rays of the sun like forked 
 lightning. The white man sprawled forward with 
 the blade through his throat. 
 
 167
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 i 
 The arm of a coward is ever slow. 
 
 In the head of Matanga, the King, as he returned 
 from the funeral of his son was a mad bird dashing 
 wildly to and fro. Anger was clubbed by fear; fear 
 speared by desire. The prophecy of the god attacked 
 him like a swarm of mosquitoes. Now that Tapakwe 
 was dead his brother was a dangerous rival. Why 
 has he not slain him as he had his other brothers 
 when first he had been made King ? Now he should 
 slay him immediately, but a fear hissed at him like 
 a snake in the grass. The coming of the whites had 
 antagonised many of the powerful chiefs. Chwa was 
 one of the conservative holders to the ancient customs, 
 a detester of the whites. Matanga needed some 
 excuse that might pass as legitimate before he dared 
 raise his hand against his royal brother. He cursed 
 the whites and contemplated refusing the concession 
 he had granted and driving them out of the country. 
 Yet through them he could procure much wealth and 
 demon water for himself; guns and ammunition he could 
 get, with which he saw his armies raiding and looting 
 every tribe within a two months' journey even more. 
 
 168
 
 And another problem confronted him. The 
 priests and the people demanded the torture by the 
 cutting with bamboo and death of the white priest who 
 had broken a sacred taboo, and the Stork was known 
 to be a friend of the Brass -Eater with whom Matanga 
 had made this trade. Should he comply, the whites 
 might be angry and he would get no demon water and 
 guns; should he refuse the people would cry out 
 against him and begin to talk of Chwa who held to the 
 ancient customs. Eh! why had he ever granted per- 
 mission to the white priests to remain in the land! 
 
 All the hot afternoon he secluded himself, racked 
 by physical aches of belly and head, trying to come to 
 a decision. Of his minister Panga he took no note, 
 for he was known as but a piece of string in the hands 
 of the King. But at nightfall had come the hoped 
 for excuse. One of the medicine men who had 
 attended his son Tapakwe the cause of whose death 
 he was awaiting from the voice of the god Tchoon - 
 had by divination discovered that Prince Chwa was 
 the slayer of the royal guards of the sacrificial victims 
 and had taken away so said the informant - - the 
 girl, Tsabi, who had been made by magic to take refuge 
 from him with the Stork where his guards had found 
 her. The blood of Matanga grew even more heated; 
 for his brother had not only broken the sacred taboo, 
 but had dared to take a girl whom he had set aside for 
 his royal pleasure. He drank more deeply of the 
 demon water and decided that next morning he would 
 formally denounce Chwa at his court and have him 
 strangled before he could get away to rally his own 
 people. Once Chwa was dead little was to fear; he 
 
 169
 
 would in the usual manner confiscate his women and 
 estates which included those of Tchoon as custodian 
 of the god, he recollected, and a glitter like a hawk's 
 sprang into his fish eyes and wipe out the entire 
 male brood; then would he be doubly assured, for 
 within his loins would lie the only direct line of the 
 blood royal. Then would he be as in times past 
 absolute autocrat. Schemes of bloody grandeur and 
 profit swarmed about him like flies upon a piece of 
 dung. And as for the whites tch! once he had 
 many arms he would slay or drive them out. Were 
 they not so few that they were compelled to make 
 slave tribes fight for them ? And who were they who 
 could stand up in battle with the children of Tchoon ? 
 Tch! 
 
 As he sat on the threshold he lifted the bottle and 
 paused, staring at the moon like a gigantic ripe orange 
 rising above the forest. 
 
 "Blood!" he hiccoughed, "an omen of blood!" 
 and drank deeply. 
 
 The more demon water he took the bolder he 
 became. He was on the point of summoning Panga 
 and ordering Chwa to be seized then ; but a confusion 
 in his head caused him to reel into his hut and, with 
 a vision of Chwa before him, he clutched at the short 
 stabbing spear he kept always by his couch and sank 
 asleep with it in his hand, forgetful to call his slaves 
 or wives (and none dared enter unless he so did) - 
 even was he oblivious of the sacred spear left propped 
 against the wall where he had left it on his return. 
 
 Then with the first cock crow, even before the 
 glory of Tanazi, who is the van of the hosts of Tulili, 
 
 170
 
 was seen pursuing Banonda, arose a murmur of voices 
 without, and across the compound crept the dwarfed 
 figure of the hunchback. Within the hut he paused 
 and with prehensile toe shifted the faggots of the dying 
 fire, regarding the snoring form in the flickering light. 
 Then as his hand stretched out he caught the gleam 
 of the three pronged spear which he took and sank 
 upon his heels. And when he replaced it he muttered 
 aloud : 
 
 "The demon water maketh the heart to burst! 
 Eh! So then the spear of the King shall split!" 
 
 And then the King started up from his couch 
 grasping his weapon. But instead of his brother 
 seeking his life twin mounds of hunch and pate glim- 
 mered in the glow of the hut fire, and as swiftly as a 
 striking leopard's paw fear turned to hate. 
 
 "If the spear of the King shall split!" quoted 
 the voice of the Black Baboon, and the King's arm fell 
 like a stricken bird. 
 
 "What seeketh thou ?" he asked peevishly from 
 a mouth like a burnt cooking pot. 
 
 "If the spear of the King shall split 
 Who hath cut my soul strings is he 
 
 For whom the royal drums shall speak !" 
 
 quoted Mtesa, the jester. 
 
 The breathing of the King resembled the split 
 bellows of a maker of spears. Close by a cock began 
 to crow and finished in a rasp like a blunt knife cutting 
 wood. 
 
 "What meanest thou, fool ?" demanded Matanga 
 swallowing noisily. 
 
 171
 
 "To watch the death struggles of an enemy under 
 the bamboo knife," remarked the Black Baboon 
 scratching his ribs slowly, "is sweeter than the tickling 
 of a woman's fingers!" 
 
 "Hath Chwa " 
 
 Then the talons of fear again tore the ribs of 
 Matanga who shouted : 
 
 "Speak, fool, or I slay!" 
 
 "Who is wiser than the King ?" responded the 
 Black Baboon and placed a faggot of wood on the fire. 
 In the blaze was revealed the face of the King which 
 was like to that of a long dead ape. "Thou seest 
 the morrow even as a seer or a priest! The brother 
 of the Lion hath slain a white man, the Scolding 
 Monkey, and hath fled, even with his family and many 
 that love him." 
 
 "Ehh!" 
 
 The spear head clanked upon the floor; the couch 
 creaked to the sucking sounds of a swollen tongue. 
 Again the cock crew. 
 
 "Water!" said the King. 
 
 2 
 
 Fear is the father of madness. 
 
 The village resembled a vast ant's nest disturbed, 
 and hummed like swarming bees. At slow intervals 
 boomed a single drum. 
 
 172
 
 Beneath the short verandah of the King's private 
 hut sat Matanga, laved and oiled and in his robe of 
 state, and Mtesa, the jester, in paint and pods. Beside 
 the former was a bottle of the demon water. His 
 eyes staring angrily seemed to reflect the sun which 
 resembled a ripe pumpkin seen above a boiling pot, 
 and the head was cocked listening intently to a distant 
 commotion like a storm raging through a forest. 
 
 As many times as there are fronds upon a plantain 
 had the thick lips opened only to close again without 
 uttering a royal command. With the trooping of the 
 cattle had come the whites demanding audience of 
 the King, the two priests and the Brass-Eater. The 
 first impulse was to refuse to receive them; to put 
 them off with excuses day after day, week after week, 
 and so tire out their patience but then would there 
 be no more demon water forthcoming nor firesticks 
 which he so urgently needed. Also he should refuse 
 to deal with his inopportune people who would be 
 clamouring for the death of the white who had broken 
 the taboo of the dead; but the menace of rebellion 
 was like a poised spear. Chwa and his whole family 
 had escaped and already four chiefs of the royal guard 
 had bled to slake the royal anger for their carelessness. 
 But also with him had gone Noona, surviving chief 
 of the clan of the Leopard, and others; and although 
 the drums were still beating out the royal summons 
 to rally the villages to the capture, well knew the King 
 that Chwa was his brother of the blood royal, a mighty 
 prince of warriors and beloved of the folk, and the 
 knowledge of these things was as one having a burr 
 between the heart and the ribs. So Matanga grunted 
 
 12
 
 and drank. Strong was the demon water. Eh! His 
 heart swelled within him. 
 
 "Eh!" said the jester, "wise is the King! Doth 
 not the doomed of the gods drink of the (medicated) 
 beer of sacrifice ?" 
 
 "What meanest thou?" snarled Matanga. "Art 
 a prophet ?" 
 
 "Nay, O King, is not a jester but a seed in a pod on 
 the foot of the King, a flea distracting the mind of the 
 great ones even when making heavy words ? What caus- 
 eth the white men, few in number, to lift the spear 
 against the King but the power of the demon water? 
 Eh! If thine enemy fight with arrows shouldst thou 
 not also use arrows?" 
 
 "Ugh!" grunted the King and drank again mut- 
 tering: "Mayhap the fool hath right, for strong of 
 heart is the demon water of the white man!" 
 
 Then within the royal stockade appeared the new 
 chief of the royal guard and kneeled before the King, 
 a signal that the assemblage was present. 
 
 "Stronger than many spears is the demon water 
 of the white!" prompted the Black Baboon. 
 
 The King scowled, but he drank deeply once 
 more and, rising to his feet, sacred spear in hand, 
 swaggered to the exit as a boy braves the first test of a 
 warrior's courage. As he entered the Council House, 
 save for the rustle of bodies bending before the King, 
 was an ominous silence like the lull before the breaking 
 of a storm. He sat upon the royal stool and as Panga 
 squatted, lifting the end of the lion skin upon his 
 knees, Matanga glared about him and, noting the many 
 absent, mumbled wrathfully:
 
 "Eh! the fulfilment of the omen of blood!' 
 
 And muttered the Black Baboon as he sidled into 
 his place to Sinoja seated to the right of the royal dais : 
 
 "Eh ! hath the priest painted the face of Banonda 
 (the moon) with blood?" 
 
 Before Matanga, seated upon stools, were the 
 three white men and the face of the Brass -Eater was 
 like to that of a sunset before the rains. 
 
 "We have come with grave words, O Chief," 
 began the Brass-Eater without salute or greeting, 
 whereat the King scowled and the heart of him swelled. 
 "This is but the third sun since we made big trade 
 words between us and each swallowed the words of 
 the other. The presents hath the chief had according 
 to our word, white man's water and firesticks, their 
 arrows of iron and cloths. And yet the white priest, 
 the Stork, hath been taken as prisoner even as in war 
 and the white whom ye call the Scolding Monkey hath 
 been slain. Are then the words of the chief no more 
 than spilt water on sand?" 
 
 At the mention of demon water and firesticks 
 the face of Matanga softened like a peevish child 
 tickled and from some of the assembly rose a deep 
 murmur. 
 
 "What would ye ?" mumbled the King. 
 
 "This and this," replied the Brass-Eater, and the 
 sound of his voice was like a thrown sword through 
 the air. "Before the sun hath reached half her journey 
 shall the Stork be made free and to him shall be paid 
 four cows to heal the wound made upon his name in 
 the sight of the folk " 
 
 "Ehh! Ehh!" grunted certain of the chiefs.
 
 "And," continued the white, "the man who hath 
 slain the Scolding Monkey shall be placed in our 
 hands and he shall pay an hundred of cattle to " 
 
 "Ehh! Tchh! Ehh! The whelp of the Lion! 
 Chwa, the mighty warrior!" 
 
 Guttural cries drowned the words of the Brass- 
 Eater like the first freshet of the rains the boulders 
 of a river bed. Matanga glared. "Chwa, the mighty 
 warrior!" echoed in his ears. The murmurs did 
 not cease. Then like the eyes of a hippopotamus 
 above the water emerged the words of the Brass-Eater 
 again. 
 
 "... and if these things be not done then shall we 
 return unto our own people and they shall come like 
 the locusts, demanding of the folk of the Wajojo these 
 things even as I have said . . . and more. What is the 
 word of the King?" 
 
 "Eh!" rang the voice of the Black Baboon, "hath 
 not the bait been well swallowed, my brothers ? Eh ! 
 among the huts of the white men will be great feasting !" 
 
 Applause greeted the sally. The head of Ma- 
 tanga was a pool muddied by fears and desires. And 
 as his words jammed like frightened cattle in the 
 gate of a pen came the voice of Sinoja : 
 
 "I claim the word, O King! Are the people of 
 Tchoon dead leaves beneath the feet of the whites ? 
 Shall warriors flee because a sole elephant trumpeth ? 
 Are the offspring of Tchoon only women that they 
 kneel at the feet of strange gods ? What is the word 
 of Matanga ? Shall one of our own break the taboo 
 of the dead and a stranger go free ? Eh ! Who shall 
 placate the ghosts of the dead soiled and insulted by 
 
 176
 
 the feet of the white ? Shall our spears be blunted in 
 war and the wombs of our women be heated that 
 they bring forth not children but dead demons of 
 Zya? Eh! Shall the prince of the blood, mighty 
 slayer of foes, be slain for a white who hath murdered 
 his son ? Eh ! Who are these whites cast out from 
 their tribe, laden with water of demons that maketh 
 men mad and gods that slay the King's child ? There 
 stands the white, big of belly and proud, who hath 
 destroyed with his fetish Tapakwe, the heir! Eh! 
 Ask ye of Toona and Paka and Noon, the medicine 
 men who saw the deed done! Tchoon hath declared 
 that these men shall die or the tribe of Wajojo be 
 slaves of the white ! Choose ! Choose ! Choose !" 
 
 A gale of deep grunts greeted the harangue. The 
 three white men were talking together. The Brass- 
 Eater was shaking his head. The eyes of Matanga 
 were those of a trapped jackal and those of the Black 
 Baboon darted like swallows. 
 
 "Let 'the fish speak to the fisherman, O King!" 
 he cried in a deep voice. "If ye be not fishermen, O 
 white men, then will ye break your lines ! Who hath 
 the right of a drunken quarrel! Are not both your 
 full bellies gnawed by rats ? Eh ! Ye may not lay 
 hands on a prince of the blood " 
 
 "E eh!" growled many. 
 
 * but let him give you twenty head of cattle 
 for the life of the white " 
 
 "Ah! Ah!" protested others. 
 
 "Let free the Stork, O King " 
 
 "E eh! Ah! Ah!" 
 
 "And let him pay ten head to Tchoon." 
 
 177
 
 "Aye," said the Vat and the White Ape, but the 
 Brass-Eater shook his head and spoke angrily to the 
 priests. 
 
 "And," continued Mtesa, "let the whites go out 
 from our country leaving the folk of Matanga to walk 
 in the paths of their gods, O King! These are the 
 white words of the Baboon that is Black!" 
 
 "Eh! Eh! Eh!" grunts of disapproval arose from 
 all sides. 
 
 If the white men left the country then might 
 Chwa return whom he could slay at his leisure and 
 then send for the whites with their demon water and 
 guns yet would the priest and the folk give up the 
 white priest? If the whites remained he could get 
 much demon water and many guns immediately to 
 arm his loyal followers. Yet would they stay if their 
 brother was not given up to them? Eh! how may a 
 man drive one bull into two pens. Thus Matanga 
 chewed words like a cow the cud as he scowled at the 
 muttering chiefs petulant that they would not brook 
 his will; for no longer dared he slaughter a recalci- 
 trant chief lest he drive the others to Chwa. Then 
 came the voice of the Brass-Eater like the edge of a 
 spear : 
 
 "Thy word, O Chief?" 
 
 Suddenly every voice ceased. The booming of 
 the signal drum throbbed; on the hot air glided the 
 chant of a woman; a cock crowed. Matanga's small 
 eyes glared angrily about him at the white men, at 
 the chiefs. A splurge of longing tore at his left wrist 
 to summon the guards to slay every one within the 
 Council House, yet ... In the faces of those who were 
 
 178
 
 nude was anger smouldering. Eh ! if only he had had 
 the firesticks to arm his guards he would . . . Then 
 like a badgered animal he flung himself on his perse- 
 cutors. 
 
 "My word, O white men, is that ye stay!" 
 
 "E eh!" rose a deep growl. 
 
 "For the Stork shall ye pay ten firesticks to me and 
 fifty demon waters, and I, Matanga, shall pay ten head 
 of cattle for the life of the white man." 
 
 "Ahh! Ahh! Ahh!" 
 
 Furious grunts rose like startled birds. 
 
 "Nay," said the Brass-Eater shaking his head. "I 
 have but one word!" 
 
 "E h!" shrieked Sinoja starting to his feet, "the 
 King pisseth on the jawbones of his fathers !" 
 
 Angered by the refusal and incited by the frenzy 
 of the priest, Matanga started forward; and his knuckles 
 were ashy as he gripped the haft of the sacred spear 
 which broke in two. 
 
 "The spear! The spear hath broken !" screamed 
 Sinoja. "The words of Tchoon!" 
 
 "The spear hath broken!" bayed the nude chiefs. 
 
 As Matanga stood like a tree staring at the blade 
 which remained in his grasp, Sinoja began shrieking: 
 
 "Slay the white men! Slay! Slay! Sla ay!" 
 
 "Slay! Slay!" echoed the cry, and three nude 
 chiefs leaped to their feet. 
 
 Matanga raised a face squeezed up with rage and 
 gestured to the guards to enter and seize the mutineer 
 chiefs. But as they rushed in brandishing their 
 spears the Brass-Eater sprang forward, crying : "Stand 
 back!" and plucked a gun from his shirt. As swiftly 
 
 179
 
 as a leap of a flea a spear left the hand of the chief of 
 the guard who imagined that he was to be attacked. 
 The white man fired as the spear struck his chest, 
 and yet again as he sank to his knees. Two of the 
 guards pitched headlong; the others threw themselves 
 upon the two priests, one standing chanting incanta- 
 tions as he held his fetish aloft and the other striving 
 to make magic with his beads. 
 
 The whole assembly was upon its feet, screaming 
 and shouting, as the King, squealing like a boar, 
 dashed at a guard whose spear he seized and slew him. 
 
 "The words of Tchoon ! The words of Tchoon !" 
 shrieked Sinoja and fled out of the door. 
 
 The guards stood staring like startled goats until 
 two more were slain; then, turning, they also fled, 
 dropping their weapons as they yelled : "Zya ! the demon 
 of Zya (madness)!" 
 
 Blind with blood Matanga stabbed at a nude chief 
 who leaped back and caught up a fallen spear. Then 
 one of the clothed faction snatching another attacked 
 him. 
 
 The dread demon of Zya was upon them. Before 
 the passing of a fly across the wall every chief was 
 armed and fighting while the King slew all who came 
 within reach, even his uncle, Panga, who sought to 
 flee and ran into his royal master of whose sacred blood 
 none dared to spill one drop. 
 
 And in a far dark corner squatted the Black Baboon 
 whose keen eyes watched as a vulture the battle; and 
 he marked the survivors of the fight who staggered 
 out and they were seventeen, six of whom were nude 
 and eleven clothed, out of three score and twelve 
 
 180
 
 chiefs; and against the wall sat Matanga, the King, 
 his mouth flecked with foam and the embroidered robe 
 torn and black with sweat and blood, and tears rolled 
 down his furrowed cheeks. 
 
 3 
 When lions fight, jackals feast. 
 
 That night, when Banonda, the moon, rose as if 
 newly washed, the great war-drums were booming 
 from the centre of the village where men of the naked 
 did battle with those of the clothed ; and slaves raped 
 the women and stole their masters' goods; and from 
 three sides at once rose flames and smoke. Without 
 the deserted enclosure of the place of sacrifice, from 
 whence both guards and doomed had fled, over the 
 body of a white man a hyena snarled at the attendant 
 jackals and bloodied his chops again. Amid the 
 blackened ruins of the white priest's temple by the 
 river lay four Wajojo in soiled white robes beside the 
 figure of a white woman with blood-soaked hair, a 
 revolver in her hand; and far down the darkling river 
 fled Maliko, the black evangelist, nude and paddling 
 with frantic hands. 
 
 181
 
 BOOK III
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 i 
 Will not a trapped lion slay a mouse? 
 
 On the trail of the message of the great drums that 
 the King sought the life of Chwa, his brother, hastened 
 another from village to village telling of the slaying 
 of the whites, the slaughter of many chiefs, and the 
 revolt of others. Then slaves rose against masters, 
 small chiefs sought to become big chiefs, every man 
 whose women had been abducted, snatched his spear 
 and tried to take them back with a dozen or more for 
 good measure; he who had been fined unjustly sallied 
 out to recover his dues ; another who had long desired 
 a girl collected his friends for a raid; for, if greater 
 than they abjured their King, why should they not in 
 their turn defy those set above them? And as a 
 monkey with his paw in a trap will set the whole forest 
 chattering, so murder, rapine and fire spread from the 
 King's village throughout the land. 
 
 Those chiefs who had grown rich at the hand of 
 Matanga (yet not so rich as to tempt the royal appetite) 
 and hoped to reap more, and who dared to leave their 
 estates, gathered together as many of their warriors 
 as they could and set forth to succour the King, meeting 
 on the road and fighting bands of marauders most of 
 
 185
 
 whom, lacking knowledge of the fate or place of Chwa, 
 profited in the interval. 
 
 Fire had eaten up the village of Matanga save for 
 the royal enclosure protected by the screen of ancient 
 Mbuli trees and the portion near the river where was 
 the shrine of Tchoon saved by the magic of his priest 
 who had caused the breaking of the rains. 
 
 Tulili had been eaten by Namza and water fell 
 upon the land as if each hidden star were a water-skin, 
 putting out the fires and enclosing the earth beneath 
 a vast calabash. In the compound of the royal con- 
 cubines, which is behind that of the wives, were twenty 
 huts shaped like to fish- traps with the mouths tied. 
 In one of them near to the high palisade and a group 
 of papayi trees, squatted fifteen girls around a large 
 calabash. Their skulls were shaven in lines resembling 
 the paths of the village and the flaps embroidered with 
 cowrie shells and beads, hanging from plum- fleshed 
 buttocks, danced to every movement as they clawed 
 up masses of boiled plantain wrapped in fronds. Their 
 skins, which to the touch were like to papayi fruit, 
 were the colours of withered leaves, the haft of a well- 
 used spear, an old firestone; and each was as supple 
 as a green withe; as round as a tree trunk of belly; 
 and of thighs without blemish. Daughters they were 
 of chiefs and peasants, slaves and captured foes. But 
 each had been ennobled while slaves waited upon their 
 needs that they might eat and grow plump to the 
 King's taste. Their chatter rippled under the roar of 
 the rain and the booming of the drums like the splash 
 of paddles beneath Kiyuma falls after the wet moon. 
 
 "Ehh!" the last-comer, whose flesh was as densely 
 
 1 86
 
 black as an old hut ceiling or one of the Lion clan, was 
 saying: "there is but one who may mend the sacred 
 spear!" 
 
 "And it is said," remarked another sucking her 
 brown fingers, "that the Black Baboon hath fled the 
 King." 
 
 "Tcha!" said another, "that is but as if a man had 
 lost a cowrie shell." 
 
 "Ehh!" exclaimed one of swarthier skin, "they 
 say the Black Baboon hath more sorcery than Sinoja, 
 the priest." 
 
 "But is not the sacred spear broken ?" demanded 
 the first speaker, "even as the voice of Tchoon pro- 
 phesied? Eh!" 
 
 "Thou wast a vestal, O Tsabi," said a daughter 
 of a petty chief of the north country. "Is the magic 
 of Tchoon stronger than the other gods ?" 
 
 "How should I, a girl, know these things ?" 
 responded Tsabi. "Know I but that the priest, 
 Sinoja, is like to a rat in a granary. Did he not steal 
 me from among the doomed of the sacrifice saying 
 unto the King that he knew not of any vestal taken by 
 the guards? Eh!" 
 
 "But thou wast brought from the white priests," 
 said a neighbour poking papayi fruit into her mouth 
 with two fingers. "How earnest thou there ?" 
 
 "Know I the burrowings of a field rat? 'Twas 
 the slaves of Sinoja who led me thither." 
 
 "O Tsabi," inquired an elder girl, "what like are 
 the white men in love ?" 
 
 "Eh! Eh! what like?" demanded several as one 
 snatching at a succulent morsel of meat. 
 
 187
 
 "Know I not," declared Tsabi with a laugh. 
 "Do they nothing but make incantations and dances 
 before their god. But," she added, "the Stork and 
 the woman put together their mouths, sucking, as 
 not even a beast of the field would do. Teh!" 
 
 "Tchhh!" echoed the others unanimously. 
 
 "Is it magic that they make with such dirtiness ?" 
 inquired one. 
 
 "Nay, to feed her," said a country girl, who had 
 seen doves with their nestlings. 
 
 "Nay, nay," corrected a girl with brass anklets, 
 "that is their manner of love making. So said the 
 woman of the Brass-Eater." 
 
 "Eh!" said Tsabi, "even they look upon their 
 man's mother without shame!" 
 
 "Teh!" clicked one, "they must be taboo to their 
 tribe and that is why they come hither!" 
 
 "And that is why their fetish could not protect 
 them and they died," asserted another. 
 
 "And they cover themselves," contributed the 
 girl with the brass anklets, "because their bodies are 
 covered with hair like to a monkey. The woman of 
 the Brass-Eater hath seen them." 
 
 "Aye, true words," agreed another. "Had not 
 the Scolding Monkey hair like to an otter upon his 
 hands and chest? Eh! I also have seen!" 
 
 "Are their women like to monkeys, too ?" queried 
 another country girl. 
 
 "Truly, for what else should they cover their 
 bodies ?" 
 
 "Flat of breasts and of buttocks are they and belly 
 and thighs!" said Tsabi, "for did I not so tell the 
 
 1 88
 
 woman of the Stork, the Egg-Eater, and lo! she an- 
 swered not but wished to beat me!" 
 
 "Teh!" clicked the crowd giggling. 
 
 "Mayhap," surmised one, "they have been driven 
 forth for the eating of eggs." 
 
 "Who shall say what filthiness they do! Teh!" 
 "Tchhh!" 
 
 In a lull of the drums the voice of Matanga rose 
 in the sodden air like a guinea fowl and was followed 
 by a shriek of one whose guts are torn by a weapon. 
 Each and every head of the fifteen girls quirked with 
 eyebrows like bows and limbs as tense as the string. 
 The voice lumbered on until it was beaten down by 
 the drums. 
 
 "Eh!" grunted a girl, "the demon water hath a 
 greater thirst for blood than the gods!" 
 
 "Aie!" wailed another, "men are more amorous 
 for demon water than for women!" 
 
 "Aye, true words," agreed a third. "Doth not 
 Tada, the youngest wife, bewail that since the white men 
 brought the demon water the King hath no more 
 manhood than a white ! Aie !" 
 
 "Aie!" bemoaned a fourth, "soon shall we be 
 concubines in ghostland, for what need hath an 
 ancient for a scabbard when he can no longer wield 
 a sword? Eh!" 
 
 "E eh!" muttered Tsabi, "would that he were 
 a fish and the river demon water!" 
 
 Again the drums ceased abruptly discovering 
 the distant chanting of a troubador to the throb of a 
 small drum, belly grunts, and the clashing of weapons 
 upon shields. 
 
 13
 
 "Eh!" exclaimed a girl as they listened to the 
 wailing solo soaring like a heavy- tailed bird, " 'tis the 
 clan of the Water Rat coming to the King's summons !" 
 
 "Teh ! a small clan ; no warriors those but makers 
 of arrowheads and keepers of the King's wells!" said 
 Tsabi, referring to the particular pursuit of the clan 
 and the hereditary duties of the chiefs at the court 
 of the King. "Not as many of the Lion Clan as there 
 are teeth in a man's head have hearkened to the voice 
 of the war-drums!" 
 
 "Teh!" clicked the other girl who was of the 
 Water Rat Clan, "without arrowheads how shall 
 warriors fight ? If the King's water be not guarded 
 well who shall frustrate the magic of enemies ?" 
 
 "Ehh! Ehh!" spat another girl of the same clan 
 "had the gods not chosen thee, Tsabi, they would 
 have given thee to a woodcutter to wife!" 
 
 "Offspring of a white and a peasant's slave!" 
 retorted Tsabi, alluding to the other's birth and her 
 complexion which was nigh to the colour of an over- 
 ripe banana as were many of the Water Rat Clan: 
 "thou art nought but a dung-eater!" And as swiftly 
 as the stroke of a leopard's paw her long nails like 
 hawk's talons left bloody weals across the small breasts. 
 "Now shall no man look at thee !" cried Tsabi, as with 
 a squawk the girl fled out of the door into the mist of 
 water towards her hut amid the clucking of her com- 
 panions; yet none made protest nor attack, for was 
 not Tsabi, the daughter of the princess, Makwa, sister 
 of the King and therefore of the breed of the Lion. 
 And even remained, like a storm- torn frond, shreds 
 of her sanctity as a vestal. 
 
 190
 
 But as Tsabi also rose to go to her hut came two 
 of the lesser guards, summoning her in the name of 
 her lord. Not knowing whether she went to his 
 arms or her death, she followed through the veil of 
 water when eyes are hidden within huts. But neither 
 of these two paths was hers, but the shrine of Tchoon, 
 and the price of her betrayal by the guards was but 
 two amulets. 
 
 and when the jackal had sat upon the body of the 
 
 dead lion the hunter had slain, lo\ he lifted up his 
 snout and claimed the earth! Folk Story. 
 
 The village of Yagama was like a clutch of brown 
 eggs nestling in the fold of the grass country which is 
 six suns' swift march from the village of Matanga. 
 The huts without compounds, save for the chief's in 
 the centre, were small and in numbers scarcely more 
 than the claws of a lion. About the stout palisade were 
 groups of men of shortish stature and brown of skin, 
 splayed of nose and wearing skirts of grass about their 
 waists, repairing the breaches with saplings and green 
 withes brought by bands of their women clad likewise 
 and wearing in their upper lips discs of shell and wood 
 
 the Wabobo, an ignoble tribe dwelling in the hills 
 and merely fit for the lowest of slavery. Near them 
 loitered on their heels in convenient shade young 
 warriors as black as soot holding long-bladed spears. 
 
 191
 
 Beyond the cattle kraal, which was larger than 
 the village and stockaded with heavy wood brought 
 from afar, was an encampment of hundreds of grass 
 shelters so alive with men that it resembled the building 
 of a black ants' nest. Away over the grassy plain like 
 a distant cloud of locusts grazed cattle (a small breed 
 with a hump upon their withers), and their herders 
 were not boys but warriors fully armed with bow, sword, 
 spear, and shield. 
 
 Towards a drum throbbing as incessantly as a 
 cricket in the village came bands of warriors chanting 
 their prowess and the praises of Chwa from as many 
 directions as homing bees. On the threshold of the 
 larger hut squatted Chwa and beside him a young man 
 whose skin and features were like to him, Yagama, a 
 cousin and sub-chief of the clan of the Lion whose 
 family for generations had been guardians of the herds 
 of the brothers of the King. Before them sitting on 
 their heels were three and twenty other nude chiefs 
 of various clans, some of whom were survivors of the 
 battle of the Council House, and others their heirs. 
 The eyes of Chwa as he harangued them were like 
 smouldering grass roots after a veld fire, every now 
 and again bursting under a puff of passion into tiny 
 flames. And when his well of exhortations and com- 
 mands was emptied each and every one bowed his 
 head to the ground and thus, having accepted him their 
 chief and King, they rose and went their way, even 
 Yagama, the chief. 
 
 As the shadows grew and the drum beat on the 
 hot air, laden with the murmurs of many men, like the 
 erratic whirring of the wings of a flying beetle, Chwa 
 
 192
 
 talked within his breast; for the heart of him was as 
 tight as a drum-skin and his liver burned like fanned 
 embers. 
 
 The passion for Tsabi had been as a leopard 
 caught within a hunter's net: snarl and bite as he 
 would he had not been able to break the meshes of the 
 taboos that bound him; yet the more entangled 
 became the talons of his desires. Like the laggard 
 members of a wild dog pack racing to the aid of the 
 leader to pull down the bull eland so rushed more 
 passions : one was in the guise of the Black Baboon 
 who had incited the lust of power; another was jealousy 
 of Sinoja and his own brother; and a third had been 
 in the shape of the white man who had stricken his 
 son. The spear which had slain the Scolding Monkey 
 had severed also the bonds which had bound him in 
 fief to the King; yet there still remained upon him 
 like an escaped lion the ragged bits of the net about 
 his neck and paws. Just as a boy swimming without 
 a toe on the ground is filled with wonder and delight 
 at the exchange of fear for a sense of power, so felt 
 Chwa. The recollection of the futile struggle of 
 tooth and claw against that net of taboo heated his 
 blood. Had he not had his appetite for Tsabi baulked 
 by Sinoja and by Matanga placing her beyond the 
 reach of a warrior's spear ? Had he not then sought 
 the aid of a white man's fetish which had proved as 
 useless ? Had this god not even been impotent to 
 save his own priests and people? Eh! And had he 
 not made sacrifice and presents to Butaro, and was he 
 not favoured of Tchoon of whom he was custodian ? 
 Would not Matanga, his brother, have had him stran-
 
 gled as he had had his other brothers ? Eh ! Had not 
 Tanka, his son, now with his wives hidden in the 
 forest, suffered at the hands of the white, although he 
 had been protected by amulets and fetish? Eh! 
 what good were gods black or white ? 
 
 Fourteen times had Tulili been swallowed by 
 Namza when the shadows were swelling and now 
 Banonda had shrivelled to a slip of papayi rind no 
 thicker than a bow-stem the little rains had passed. 
 Three and twenty chiefs had kneeled before him; 
 and there were others who had closed their ears to the 
 booming of Matanga's war-drums busied with their 
 own affairs until such time that they knew which 
 brother had the most firmly grasped the sacred 
 spear. 
 
 Chwa remained as immobile as a boulder which 
 is set on the mountain side. Yet, while he numbered 
 his warriors like a shepherd his flock and took reckoning 
 of the enemies and their ways, rivers still in flood 
 and the trails to the village of Matanga, called dimly 
 in his mind strange new voices like to the whisperings 
 and whimperings of the forest by night. The shadows 
 lengthened and when the lowing of cattle was joined to 
 the murmur of men rose without the palisade voices 
 like the falling of rinds of the wild orange upon dry 
 earth and through the gate came a stunted figure of 
 swaying skull and humped of back. But Chwa stirred 
 not or greeted him, although the Black Baboon knelt 
 on the ground and made obeisance. Then when he 
 had risen, scratching a scaly thigh which set the seed- 
 pods to rattling, he remarked as one prophesying: 
 
 "And when the jackal had sat upon the dead lion 
 
 194
 
 which the hunter had slain, lo ! he lifted up his snout 
 and claimed the earth!" 
 
 The eyebrows of Chwa were sewn together as he 
 said : 
 
 "Many are they who have knelt before me and 
 many are they who wait for the rising of the lion. 
 Which art thou?" 
 
 "Am I not the Black Baboon, the jester of the 
 King?" inquired Mtesa. 
 
 "Which king?" 
 
 "Eh ! but the words of Chwa are older than Tchoon 
 for how shall a poor jester know the difference between 
 one stone and another ?" 
 
 "I am the son of Ntoka Nkwaza, king of the blood 
 of Lions," declared Chwa from the depth of a swelling 
 chest. "My enemies I shall eat as a lizard eats flies !" 
 
 "Thou art wiser than Tchoon, O king!" re- 
 sponded the Black Baboon tapping snuff, "for well 
 thou knowest how many lions are slain around the 
 camp fire! Take thou that which unlocks the brows, 
 for how shall a warrior fight when his arms are turned 
 against himself," he added, proffering snuff, and his 
 star-bright eyes met those of Chwa which were dented 
 as an ant heap by a stick. And Chwa took snuff and 
 sneezed three times. 
 
 "O Chwa," said the Black Baboon as one putting 
 aside folk tales, "many bucks have watered since the 
 slaying of the whites. The heart of the King changeth 
 as a snake sloughs his skin for he hath put aside the 
 cloths of the white and the demon water is finished. 
 He sendeth fat words to the chiefs, maketh sacrifice to 
 the gods, and presents to the priests."
 
 "Eh! the belly of Sinoja waxeth big!" grunted 
 Chwa. 
 
 "Aye, but his words to the King are like to an 
 over-ripe berry. The weapons of greed and fear once 
 drawn are not sheathed until the belly be full and the 
 liver is cool. The heart of the King yearneth for the 
 demon water and the firesticks of the white as a young 
 girl for the woman's flap, and knoweth well Sinoja 
 that the gods of the whites are more powerful than his 
 gods." 
 
 "What now are the words of Tchoon ?" 
 
 "Tchoon speaketh not yet for, unless Chwa be 
 slain, Sinoja wills that the prophecy of Tchoon be not 
 made manifest before the people." 
 
 "Eh! hath Tchoon need of Sinoja to oil his 
 face ?" 
 
 "If there were no priests there would be no gods," 
 retorted the hunchback. "A god in the hands of a 
 priest is better than a stick in the hands of a warrior 
 with which to beat the folk." 
 
 "Ugh!" grunted Chwa as one trying the balance 
 of a spear. Said he at length: 
 
 "Came yesterday words saying that Batalonga, 
 the King of the Wazingui, hath crossed into the land 
 and seeks to attack Matanga. I wait until he hath 
 struck and then do I strike the victor for, whoever 
 he be shall they be worn with battle or drunk with 
 victory." 
 
 "Nay," advised the Black Baboon, "do thou wait 
 till they are in the embrace of battle. Then must 
 thou strike for shall each say, 'Eh! 'tis he!' and again 
 'Eh! 'tis he!' and thy single arrow shall transfix two 
 
 196
 
 enemies. Thus did I plan when I made words with 
 Batalonga." 
 
 "Eh! Thou hast been with the enemy?" 
 
 "Even so. I have made of the Wazingui a broom 
 that shall sweep aside the hyena and the jackal out of 
 the path of Chwa and make weak the knees of Matanga 
 and his folk." 
 
 "Ugh! thou art wiser than the old buffalo bull!" 
 conceded Chwa, and his eyes flashed like a whetted 
 spear, "Soon indeed shall the Mender of Spears, even 
 as said Tchoon, sit in the place of his fathers! Ehh! 
 Well was it that in the night fell a great star over the 
 place of Matanga! Takanka, the sorcerer, sayeth 
 that it was the wrath of Tchoon striking the King." 
 
 "Nay," returned the Black Baboon, "rather was it 
 a sign from Tchoon bidding thee to strike and where." 
 
 "Ugh!" grunted Chwa, "then with the coming of 
 Tanazi I march." 
 
 "Or," mumbled the hunchback, "a sign of the 
 coming of the whites seeking their prey." 
 
 "The whites?" queried Chwa. "Thinkest thou 
 that they will return?" 
 
 "Aye, as surely as Tanazi is the forerunner of 
 Tulili."" 
 
 "None shall enter my country," stated Chwa 
 with smouldering eyes. 
 
 "The arm of the dead is longer than the arm of the 
 quick," returned the Black Baboon. "When thou 
 sittest in the place of Matanga and thy executioner 
 strangleth thy brother yet shalt thou pay for the acts 
 which his hands have done, for live we not by the 
 words of the dead ?" 
 
 197
 
 "But," said Chwa, "if the country is mine then 
 who are they that shall defy me ?" 
 
 "Do the locusts have the royal permission to 
 enter the land ?" queried the ancient. "Canst the 
 might of thy warriors stay their way ?" 
 
 "The whites are but few," argued Chwa. 
 
 "Are there many kings in thy land ? But sell 
 not thy skins until thy beasts be slain, O Chwa!" 
 
 "Thou art wise, old one," returned Chwa. "Thou 
 shalt indeed be my first minister." 
 
 "Nay, shall a king cast his sacred spear to become 
 a fool ?" answered the Black Baboon and, rising, left. 
 
 But Chwa squatted on, chewing the words of the 
 jester until a young wife of his host came to call him 
 to his food and couch. 
 
 3 
 The fatter the bull the easier slain. 
 
 From the dark of the hut of Sinoja, the priest, 
 rose the slender form of Tsabi carrying a calabash 
 littered with the remnants of a meal. The lips were 
 like the gash of a spear blade in a papayi, the nostrils 
 to a hunted doe's, but the eyes resembled a trapped 
 leopard's; and from the shadow of the threshold the 
 snake glance of the priest followed her with the look 
 of a wild cat watching a forest rat. When Chwa at 
 first had bargained for her she had been no more to 
 Sinoja than his favourite among the temple vestals 
 
 198
 
 and he had sought to use her as a bait to provoke 
 Chwa to slay a white and so precipitate the downfall 
 of the rival gods. That plot had failed; but other 
 means had served his end. But Chwa's passion for 
 the girl had inflamed his own; the desire of the King 
 had whetted that the more; and the knowledge that 
 the chosen of his lords was slave to his every need was 
 stronger drink than palm wine. 
 
 Yet now that his dams were kidding (the murder 
 of the whites and the revolt of Chwa who, when king, 
 would banish all rival gods) his passion for the girl 
 grew fiercer. Should Chwa discover Tsabi he would 
 take her from him and although his wrath dared not 
 assail the sacred 'voice' of Tchoon, yet might he well 
 make Mukwenda or another god his favourite, whereby 
 Sinoja would lose all that he had sown. Then in his 
 hot mind sprouted other plants. If Chwa were dead 
 then his son Tanka would be king. And to Sinoja 
 came the plan that then should Tchoon make proph- 
 ecy and order his own priest to act as regent for the 
 child which none would dare disobey, for had not 
 Tchoon so prophesied the coming of Chwa to the 
 royal stool? Eh! And as soon as Tanka was grown 
 enough to sire a son should he then follow in his 
 father's trail to ghostland. Ehh! Tsabi would be 
 his and all the kingdom! A king in all but name. 
 
 And as Sinoja sat and watered these deadly herbs 
 his ears were listening tensely to the tumult from the 
 enclosure of the King and about the village. 
 
 Once more Matanga sat upon the stool of ivory 
 and ebony in the Council House. Save for the lion 
 skin knotted over his left shoulder and the fillet of 
 
 199
 
 white ostrich and scarlet parrot feathers, as were the 
 forty and one war painted chiefs who squatted before 
 him, he was nude. On the sleek body were the talon 
 marks of the white man's demon water; for the belly 
 had become a paunch which sagged like a half-filled 
 waterskin ; the oiled limbs were round like a woman's ; 
 and the cheeks, daubed with red and yellow ochre, 
 were like to the dewlaps of oxen; the eyes, encircled 
 by rings of blue clay, were the colour of a ripe banana, 
 and the pupils resembled a blunted spear. For since 
 the demon of Zya had seized him had his soul fled for 
 many suns; he had remained within his private 
 compound knowing nought of the happenings about 
 him, tormented by a thirst that was hotter than the 
 burning of the village, slaying those who opposed him 
 and screaming as the talons of Zya tore his vitals. 
 Only when the demon water had gone did his soul 
 timidly flutter to a body scorched with brands that 
 could not be assuaged by the river had it been of beer. 
 Save for his guards and twenty odd chiefs and their 
 men his kingdom had gone from him. If sick men 
 were not, the gods would starve. So that Matanga 
 made haste as the white men were no more to supplicate 
 such gods as remained by making sacrifices human and 
 in kind, by casting off the white man's cloths, and 
 sending messages to recall by vast promises and threats 
 those who were still minded to obey their chief and 
 King. But the heart of Matanga was like to a year- 
 old fallen berry and as he looked about him it rattled 
 like a jester's seed-pod. For Chwa was still at large 
 and men said was gathering the folk to proclaim the 
 ancient gods and the banishment of strangers from the 
 
 200
 
 land; and over all like a soaring vulture watching a 
 dying ox floated the prophecy of the broken spear. 
 
 Despite all supplications Tchoon refused to speak 
 again and the eyes of Matanga gazed upon Sinoja 
 with the stare of a starving leopard upon a goat; but 
 he dared not slay the priest for fear that such would 
 alienate those that remained to him. Like rats within 
 the women's hut crept soft-padded thoughts to send 
 to the whites for firesticks and even aid, but instead 
 he growled and snarled like a bound leopard at the 
 guards who had so well tied the grasses on that trail. 
 Even as his body was a mockery to his women so was 
 his mind to the men. Those who had answered the 
 summons were encamped with their men upon the 
 site of the village, armed and with their fetishes of war, 
 painted for battle and sworn. Yet on the night before 
 the King was to set forth to punish his rebel brother 
 had not an hyena laughed even at the first parrot call ? 
 Eh! And had happened every day some dire omen; 
 and so the King and his small army sat from sun to 
 sun until had come the news that Batalonga had crossed 
 the frontier and was laying waste the land. Then 
 the council spent hot shadows discussing whether they 
 should first attack the raiders or dispose of Chwa; 
 and neither Mukwenda, the god of war, nor Tchoon 
 would speak to help them. If, said one, with half 
 an army they should attack the Wazingui, then when 
 they were tired and worn would Chwa surely fall 
 upon them; if, said another, they sought out Chwa 
 who was reported far away, then the Wazingui would 
 sack the village and raze the sacred temples. Eh! 
 
 Then as they, like a pack of wild dogs whose 
 
 201
 
 leader has been blinded, snuffed for the lost trail of 
 the quarry, floated on the still air a distant shrilling 
 of women answered by a wailing cry: 
 
 "Batalon-gaaa !" 
 
 "Ugh!" grunted the chiefs in unison looking 
 upon their King, "the Wazingui!" 
 
 But the dread herald of the enemy, never heard 
 from the village in the memory of living man, was to 
 Matanga as the grunt of a lion to grazing antelope. 
 He started to his feet clutching the sacred spear and 
 staring with the eyes of a buck at bay towards the 
 sudden clamour of the warriors which, like a calabash 
 clapped upon a cricket, was crushed by the boom 
 of the war drum. Across the compound ran the 
 King's bearers carrying the fetishes of war, spears and 
 shield and the firestick of the white man, and stood 
 awaiting him. Between the drum beats rose cries and 
 yells. The forty and one loyal chiefs were unable to 
 move until their King commanded. Like a bayed lion 
 charging the encircling spears Matanga gave a great 
 shout and rushing out of the Council House seized 
 his arms while the chiefs dashing past him grasped their 
 weapons from their followers without the great gate. 
 Then with the sacred jaw of the lion hanging within 
 his shield (without which his holy feet may not touch 
 the common ground) and the firestick in his hand, and 
 followed by his bearer with an armful of spears Matanga 
 led his braves beneath the great Mbuli trees towards 
 the tumult of battle. 
 
 The camp of the army resembled a decapitated ant 
 heap; bands of warriors whose naked bodies were 
 streaked with clay and ochre thundering "Matanga!" 
 
 202
 
 to the rhythm of the great drums raced madly under 
 showers of arrows like the flurries of wind before a 
 storm, accompanied by screeches and yells of defiance, 
 into the dense plantain plantation and the forest edge. 
 As scattered as Euphorbia in the plains rival braves 
 met in single combat; chiefs and sub-chiefs, each 
 with his drum bearer, shouted and abjured his men; 
 peasants, armed only with sticks or iron hoes awaiting 
 the end of the battle for loot, bawled obscene epithets 
 and taunts at the enemy. 
 
 From another direction burst a herd of Wazingui, 
 their skins flapping about their waists and head plumes 
 waving above faces washed with a white clay, squealing 
 the name of their King and led by a squat chief to- 
 wards whom pranced the chief of Matanga's guard. 
 Thrown lances glinted in the bright sun; steel upon 
 shield thudded between the beats of the drums; the 
 figures melted into one and one arose triumphantly 
 yelling, to be swept away in the rush of the Wazingui 
 like a boulder in flood time. 
 
 Then burst upon the scene Matanga at the head 
 of his chiefs. The great drums ceased and the tumult 
 of battle soared like a covey of birds as, pausing in 
 full view of his people, Matanga held the firestick to 
 his shoulder and pulled the trigger. He reeled into 
 the arms of his bearer and the report seemed to be 
 flung back defiantly from the forest. 
 
 For the passing of a fly across the face, Matanga 
 thought that the white man's firestick had stricken him 
 instead of the enemy. 
 
 "Eh!" he muttered, feeling his shoulder, " 'tis a 
 good slave that obeys none but his master!" 
 
 203
 
 As he glanced up the tumult of the army had 
 lulled like the sudden dying of a gale in the trees and 
 every man was gazing towards the foe as if expecting 
 them to fall flat before the magic of the King. But 
 as if in defiant reply from the forest and the plantains 
 emerged a horde of Wazingui led by a tall man on 
 whose head flaunted the plumes of the crane, roaring : 
 "Bata Ion ga!" 
 
 The heart of Matanga swelled within his chest 
 when he heard the answering howl from his own folk 
 even as it had on the day he had chased the father of 
 Batalonga from the field. Seizing his broad-bladed 
 spear and holding his war fetish above the shield he 
 plunged forward to the front of his warriors. Sur- 
 rounded by his principal chiefs as the custom was, 
 each king sought the other. The volley of their 
 throwing spears was recorded in the thuds of steel 
 on hide. While the battle surged around them they 
 met in single combat beneath the shade of a great 
 Mbuli tree on the fringe of the forest. 
 
 Uttering a screech the tall lithe Bazingui leaped 
 half a man's height in the air, but the heavier Matanga 
 merely moved a pace and catching his opponent's 
 spear blade on his shield hacked for the legs as he 
 alighted. But the blow was slow and parried deftly 
 by Batalonga who slashed mightily for the head. 
 Matanga dodged and hacked madly but the younger 
 man nimbly leaped aside and stooping threw dirt. 
 That Matanga deftly caught upon his shield dropping 
 it to fend the following stroke and streaked his foe's 
 shoulder with blood. Again Batalonga screeched and 
 leaped high in air bringing down a sturdy blow that 
 
 204
 
 rent through the shield of Matanga who was not 
 agile enough to take the stroke upon the falling forearm. 
 After that Matanga backed away for his eyes were 
 those of a goat dragged to the slaughter and his breath 
 that of an old bull in a bog. As swiftly as a pouncing 
 hawk Batalonga sprang; his blade flashed twice; and 
 Matanga sank upon his knees, gasping blood like a 
 chicken with its throat cut. 
 
 Then, even as the cry of triumph lingered on the 
 lips of the victor, appeared like a leopard dropping 
 from a tree branch a figure clad so like the dying King, 
 except for the flamingo feathers of scarlet, that he 
 might have been his twin and all about like a sudden 
 storm arose a mighty shout of "Chwa a!" 
 
 The shout grew to a roar seeming to swamp the 
 tumult of the battle like a war-drum the chant of 
 frogs. The men of Chwa swept down on the warriors 
 of Matanga who imagining them to have come to 
 their aid were slain and their enemies taking the new- 
 comers for reinforcements, fled. Beneath the Mbuli 
 tree surrounded by their fighting chiefs the two kings 
 faced each other prancing like two cocks upon a 
 midden. Chwa bounded into the air to the height 
 of a man's shoulders screaming the challenge. Up 
 shot Batalonga screeching the louder. Again bounded 
 Chwa still higher, spewing taunts. But Batalonga, 
 snarling, darted straight upon him. Chwa caught 
 the stroke upon his out-thrusting shield as he descend- 
 ed and deftly sliced his opponent's shoulders. Now 
 Batalonga leaped and Chwa once more outleaped him, 
 but in mid-air struck with the swiftness of a snake as 
 his man tried to rush in before he had alighted. Bata- 
 
 205 
 
 14
 
 longa's riven shield rolled upon the grass and his left 
 hand was grasping it. Chwa's spear glinted and the 
 King of the Wazingui was spouting blood from a 
 severed neck upon the body of Matanga. 
 
 4 
 As flows the blood so batten the priests. 
 
 Beneath the Mbuli tree was a small hut in which 
 squatted Chwa in the tokens of mourning for his 
 brother, a patch of red ochre upon his right breast 
 and many fetishes and amulets strung upon his limbs 
 by the medicine men to exorcize the ghosts of the foe. 
 Here upon the site of the royal duel was he doomed to 
 stay, denied of women and cooked food until after the 
 burial of his predecessor. As a moon like a half 
 squashed orange rose above the forest, over the field of 
 battle scores of luminous eyes grew vague bodies and 
 the snarling and the rending of flesh were hidden by 
 the booming of the funeral drums as continuous as 
 the roar of the Kiyuma falls in flood, above which 
 soared like storm-driven birds the shrill wailing of the 
 mourners. 
 
 As Tanazi cupped Banonda of her blood, in the 
 camp of the warriors and the remains of the village 
 beyond rose hundreds of spirals of smoke like to 
 dancing forest spirits, and the hum of men stirring. 
 Before Tulili had thrown her hot spears upon the 
 
 206
 
 earth was a file of chiefs and sub-chiefs smeared with 
 ashes and engirdled by withered plantain fronds, 
 each with the circle of red upon his chest, entering 
 the royal enclosure where lay the body of the dead 
 King; and all the paths leading to the village were 
 thronged like an army of foraging ants with chiefs and 
 messengers coming and going. ' On the trail to Butaro, 
 the destroyer of souls, hastened those warriors who had 
 knowingly slain one of his tribesmen; also were the 
 compounds of Tchoon and Mukwenda, the god of 
 war, crowded with men, each one bearing offerings 
 of fowls and goats and calves, for do not priests batten 
 on the dead as ticks on the quick? 
 
 Before the mists had yet risen from the ground and 
 the last jackal and hyena had left his regal feast came 
 to Chwa the Black Baboon and those of his principle 
 chiefs bringing with them, dressed in the flap worn 
 behind to denote their degradation to the status of a 
 mere woman, those of the opposite faction to make 
 their formal surrender; each man after rubbing both 
 cheeks in the dust was lighty pricked by a spear upon 
 the body enough to draw blood, and after swearing by 
 Tchoon and Mukwenda his loyalty was given authority 
 over, and instructions about his respective district 
 or village, or not as the triumphant potentate should 
 decree. And when the yap of the first jackal was 
 heard the sum was not yet done. 
 
 While the thunderous mourning for the King 
 continued until Banonda had dwindled to a slice of 
 pumpkin crept by night the Black Baboon to share the 
 lonely vigils in the hut by the warriors' necropolis. 
 Now the heart of Chwa was swollen until it pained his 
 
 207
 
 ribs but his bowels were sorely shrunken with desire 
 for Tsabi; yet pride forbade him to utter her name even 
 to the secret councillor, and because of the shreds of 
 taboo which still draped him dared he not send out 
 messengers to seek her whereabouts. Of affairs of 
 state they talked; what chiefs should be banished and 
 who slain and which propitiated with gifts and office; 
 and of an army Chwa would organize more numerous 
 and more powerful than any of his predecessors that 
 his throne might be the more secure and peace come 
 to the land. And once said Mtesa as one probing a 
 beer gourd with a straw: 
 
 "And what shall be thy word, O Chwa, if 'the 
 voice' of Tchoon speak against thee even as he did 
 against thy brother?" 
 
 "Should not the voice be with me ?" queried Chwa. 
 "Are the whites not banished from the land and their 
 gods trampled beneath my feet ?" 
 
 "Aye, but that thou didst not do, O Chwa! 
 'Twas their own demon water that slew them, helped 
 by the sowing of the words of the priest of Tchoon !" 
 
 "Ugh!" grunted Chwa with sewn eyebrows, 
 "but 'twas I who slew the enemy who spilled the royal 
 blood ! Is not that good in the sight of Tchoon ? 
 Were they not my warriors who made hosts of the 
 Wazingui captive for sacrifice to Tchoon and the 
 ghost of my brother? Eh!" 
 
 "Aye, that is so, but knowest thou not that the 
 belly of a priest is vaster than an elephant's ? Two 
 cocks may not crow long upon one dunghill. Did not 
 Tchoon himself contend with a voice of a god and was 
 he not worsted ? Eh ! Shall the dead rule or wilt thou ?" 
 
 208
 
 "Would I seek the fate of Tchoon?" muttered 
 Chwa. 
 
 "Or thy brother ? Eh ! but are not all men born 
 with lies in their mouths and umbilical cords on their 
 bellies ? Eh ! who hath ever spoken with the dead 
 save a priest ?" 
 
 "Ehh!" grunted Chwa and involuntarily his eyes 
 sought the deeper shadows, and he chewed upon the 
 words. "Who hath ever broken a strong taboo and 
 lived? Did not my brother do as Tchoon had foretold?" 
 
 "Thou hast thyself, O Chwa. Didst not cast 
 the fetish of the whites beneath thy feet ? Thinkest 
 thou then that their fetish is less mighty than our own ? 
 If the magic of the Wazingui can slay our warriors 
 whose medicine is weak how much more then may 
 the whites?" 
 
 "But their fetish was feeble," murmured Chwa. 
 "For it could not save its own priests nay, not one!" 
 
 "Nor did fetish ever save any priest," retorted 
 Mtesa. 
 
 "Ugh!" grunted Chwa again, to whom such blas- 
 phemy seemed too dangerous. 
 
 "Hast thou not thyself broken the taboo of the 
 vestals of Tchoon ?" 
 
 "Eh!" This grunt was one of surprise and anger, 
 but which changed as he looked upon the withered 
 ancient to fear. "How knowest thou that?" 
 
 "Hohh!" chuckled the jester, "the wise man ever 
 hath more cattle than the king wots of!" 
 
 Like the old hunter who drops the skin before the 
 elephant to trample on and so escapes, the Black Baboon 
 chose another path. And after a while he took his 
 
 209
 
 own way to the village for the mantle of Tanazi was 
 already spread. 
 
 The thundering of the funeral drums ceased 
 as the hot eye of Tulili peering above the trees extin- 
 guished the last star. Then simultaneously with the 
 twin sheaves of the roof of the temple of Tchoon 
 resembling ripe maize came a single boom of a drum 
 putting out the hum of the village and camp and the 
 wailing of the mourners as the chest grunt of a gorilla 
 crushes the chatter of women ; the note seemed a swift 
 tramp of an army charging from the village which 
 faded as the men were swallowed by the surrounding 
 forest in the rustling of leaves, the murmur of the 
 multitude rushing upon its trail like a pack of wild 
 dogs after a buck: then again roared the lord of sound, 
 the great drum whose strong belly beloved of blows 
 is of human skin and whose sticks are of the thighs of 
 a man, Toko Toko, the sacred drum only beaten at 
 the coronation of a king. 
 
 Then to the solitary hut of Chwa, led by one 
 Zinikwe, an uncle and the brother of Panga, the dead 
 minister, came Kanani, Nkobi and Batomba, Chwa's 
 wives, to lave, anoint, and array him for the festival. 
 And when this was done, wearing neither bangle nor 
 fetish of any kind even as he was born, and shielded 
 from human gaze by a screen of palm fronds, was he 
 escorted by them and none other through the planta- 
 tion by a roundabout way to avoid the masses of people 
 assembled for the funeral to a special hut set apart 
 within the royal enclosure. There he squatted with 
 his family as if he were a man of no huts what time the 
 ceremonies of the dead were concluded, such as had 
 
 210
 
 been made for Tapakwe ; and the procession led by 
 the offerings of a white bull and a white cock set 
 out for the temple of Tchoon to the wailing of the 
 mourners and the booming of Toko Toko. When 
 they had emerged spread the word that the god had 
 not spoken save to name the number of captives the 
 soul of Matanga required in ghostland; and so it was 
 that other than the eight wives, fourteen concubines 
 and the three hundred and forty seven Wazingui cap- 
 tives clubbed about the royal tomb, none was put to 
 death, whereat the folk rejoiced and praised the new 
 King; for was not Chwa beloved of Tchoon if the 
 god set so small a value upon the dignity of the spirit 
 of Matanga ? Ehh ! 
 
 When the procession had returned Chwa was 
 led by Mfumbura of the Civet Cat Clan, hereditary 
 master of ceremonies, to the sacred Mbuli near to 
 the Council House, the tree beneath which in ancient 
 days Tchoon himself had given judgment, and seated 
 upon the royal stool upon the lion rug laid about with 
 the regalia of the crown. While the drum boomed, the 
 chiefs, great and small, clad only in the symbols of 
 their clans, assembled before him, entirely filling the 
 inner enclosure. As the Black Baboon scrabbled to 
 his place he shrilled out: 
 
 "Take heed, O master of ceremonies, that thou 
 dost not crown the jester, for what would become of 
 you with a fool for a king and a king for a fool ?" 
 
 And as the folk laughed the great drum ceased and 
 save for the murmur of the multitude without the far 
 enclosure was silence. Then rose Noona, the new 
 chief of the Leopard Clan who had been Chwa's chief 
 
 211
 
 supporter, spears and shield in hand, and cried out 
 in a loud voice: 
 
 "I, Noona, son of Tunoomba, name Chwa, son of 
 Ntoko Nkwaza, chief over the children of Tchoon, 
 and who shall gainsay me?" 
 
 None said him nay; all shouted acceptance. 
 Chwa stood erect, a figure as if carven in ebony, the 
 breast curves of chest and the swellings of his limbs 
 glistening in the dappled shade. Then Mfumbura 
 knotted the lion skin about his left shoulder and placed 
 the diadem of white ostrich plumes upon his bowed 
 head, so tall was he. Into his left hand was thrust 
 his fetishes and those of the late King; and into his 
 right the three-bladed spear with the haft of ebony 
 and ivory which he poised and shook over the heads 
 of the folk to show that the symbol was firm and strong ; 
 and they bowed their brows to the ground proclaiming 
 in a mighty shout their chief and King. Then came 
 the priest-medium, clad in a girdle of goat tails and a 
 necklet of lion claws, from the temple of Ntoko Nkwaza 
 and held before the new King the relics from the shrine 
 of his father, covered in woven grass and decorated 
 with cowrie shells, the jaw bone, the umbilical cord 
 and the lingam ; and each of these Chwa touched with 
 his left hand crying : "I am thy son ! and on thy stool 
 I sit even as thou hast!" 
 
 When they were taken away he rose and shouted 
 like a bull elephant bellowing: 
 
 "I am the King ! Give me the country that I may 
 eat!" 
 
 Seated on the stool, certain chiefs approached and 
 offered him a portion of plantain which he ate, a cala- 
 
 212
 
 bash of beer which he drank, and so with all things 
 edible; then was a man, an ox, a goat, and a fowl 
 slain before him and drops of their blood were mixed 
 with palm wine, and this also he drank; thus was the 
 eating up accomplished that the folk and everything 
 within the land entered into and became part of the 
 King. And after were two peasants captured at 
 random by the guards in the countryside and brought 
 before him. The one upon his right he pricked with 
 the sacred spear upon the breast ; the uninjured was 
 set free, and given presents of women and cattle, but 
 that other man was the scapegoat and he, together 
 with an ox, a goat, and a fowl, bearing the sins and 
 mistakes of the late King, were to be taken afar and, 
 their limbs being broken, left to die. And as they 
 went Chwa said to Mtesa in a low voice : 
 
 "Sit thou on my right hand." 
 
 But again the Black Baboon refused saying : "Nay, 
 O Chwa, hath not a king need of a fool and who may 
 supplant me ?" 
 
 So it was that Chwa called forth Noona to be his 
 minister and gave the principal offices to others in 
 their turn as he saw fit; and each and every one made 
 presents of women and cattle to the King and gave 
 orders for the rebuilding of their huts on the sites of 
 their predecessors; for none, not even the King, shall 
 well abide in the hut of another lest the ghost be 
 angered. And when this was done came the royal 
 bearers who, lifting up the King upon their shoulders, 
 set forth that the folk without might look upon and do 
 homage to their King, to the booming of the giant 
 drum, Toko Toko, and the music of lyres and pipes. 
 
 213
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 i 
 Doth a thief keep a stolen fowl in his hut? 
 
 Again sat Sinoja and Mtesa beneath the tree of 
 
 Tchoon. 
 
 "Eh," the priest was saying, "mighty is the King, 
 
 devourer of strange gods, driving the dung-eaters from 
 
 the land!" 
 
 "And the cattle into the compound of the god !" 
 "Who would defraud a god of his due ?" 
 "None," retorted the jester, "save a fool!" 
 The eyes of the priest which were like to a gorged 
 
 snake rolled slowly to the metal bright ones of the 
 
 Black Baboon. 
 
 "Were not the words of Tchoon fulfilled even as 
 
 Tulili follows Tanazi ?" demanded Sinoja. "Did not 
 
 the sacred spear break in the hands of the blasphemer 
 
 and does not Chwa sit on the stool of the lion even as 
 
 was prophesied ? Eh ! Are not the dung-eaters driven 
 
 from the land and the whites made to dance before 
 
 Mukwenda even as said Tchoon?" 
 
 "Eh ! the gods are ever greedy ; steal they even the 
 
 words of a fool ! Yet the words of a fool are often the 
 
 words of a god!" 
 
 214
 
 "Thy words," responded Sinoja, "are like the 
 moons upon thy back!" 
 
 "Aye, among much chaff is it difficult to find the 
 grain. What sayeth Tchoon of the white gods ?" 
 
 "Hath Tchoon not eaten them up ?" 
 
 "He needeth a big belly. Locusts are many; 
 shall a man stop the plague by eating them?" 
 
 "Thinkest thou that they will return?" 
 
 "Even as the locusts!" 
 
 "Teh! hath not the King made an army such as 
 hath not been seen since the moons of Mukwenda, 
 the god of war?" 
 
 "Aye, but dogs may fight dogs; a pack may pull 
 down a lion; but dogs may never rout a flock of lions." 
 
 "Teh ! let them look to their fetishes - - if they 
 have none better than they had !" replied Sinoja. Our 
 gods are as hungry as leopards!" 
 
 "All gods are ever hungry," retorted the jester, "like 
 to many men with rats gnawing their swollen bellies." 
 
 The chicken lids of Sinoja tautened as across the 
 eyes wandered a gleam like the reflection of a spear in 
 a forest pool. 
 
 "Thou art but a fool at the feet of the King," 
 he replied, gathering his limbs to depart and scratching 
 the fat over his ribs, "but take heed for the wrath of 
 Tchoon who is above kings!" 
 
 "Eh!" muttered Mtesa, "here is a medicine man 
 who drinketh his own medicine!" and added aloud: 
 "He who hath no mat (of goods) upon his head travels 
 swifter than the laden." 
 
 "Thou hast more than a mat upon thy back, 
 ancient," retorted Sinoja as one stung. 
 
 215
 
 "Aye, a hump and many moons!" acknowledged 
 the jester. "But why visit a merchant to talk of 
 bananas ? Doth the King still give presents to him 
 who shall find the lost goat ?" 
 
 "Am I a diviner or a medicine man?" snapped 
 Sinoja. 
 
 "That shalt thou reveal," said a deep voice and, 
 turning as swiftly as a coiling adder disturbed, the 
 priest looked up into the face of the King. He was 
 clad solely in the lion skin and held a fly switch 
 of zebra tail; behind him were the royal bearer and 
 half a score of guards. The visit unannounced and 
 contrary to all precedent save to consult an oracle or 
 other official occasion, such as war or the chase, startled 
 the priest almost as much as a snake in a goat pen; 
 yet beyond the tightening of the facial muscles he 
 gave no sign but made the obeisance according to 
 etiquette. 
 
 "What is the will of the King ?" he inquired hum- 
 bly from his knees although well he knew. 
 
 Chwa's brows were as like to the thunder-storm 
 before the rains as upon another occasion and now the 
 awe of a priest seemed to have gone from him. 
 
 "I have had a dream," he said, "that bade me seek 
 that which was lost. Rise," he commanded, "and 
 open thy gates to me!" 
 
 "Thou wouldst enter the temple of Tchoon ?" 
 demanded Sinoja as he obeyed, with the insolence of 
 his craft in his voice. 
 
 "I said, open thy gates," repeated Chwa, but on the 
 words he glanced at the sacred hut as if indeed were 
 he so minded he would break the taboo and he added : 
 
 216
 
 "Even so am I not still the custodian of the temple of 
 Tchoon, O priest? Lead on!" 
 
 As Sinoja turned a mocking grimace as slight as 
 the tremour of a moth's wing rippled his features. 
 Into the private enclosure of the priest where were 
 his wives and concubines stalked Chwa. At his order 
 they came out and stood before him and at a gesture 
 four of the guards examined the huts; also those 
 of the vestals; and when the search was done Sinoja 
 grew indignant. 
 
 "Thou knowest, O King, the word that I returned 
 unto thy messengers that she whom thou seekest was 
 taken by him who is dead and with him and his wives 
 and concubines went to ghostland. Why then should 
 the word of Sinoja be split?" 
 
 As Chwa gazed down upon him he recollected the 
 covenant with him for the day when the late King 
 Matanga should select those for the sacrifice of Tchoon, 
 unto the third Mbuli tree, and how his brother had 
 looked upon Tsabi and had chosen even beyond so 
 that she too was included; yet well he had suspected 
 that the words of the priest were like to an old canoe. 
 Throughout the land, save in the sacred precincts 
 of the shrines and temples where no layman may go, 
 had he sent his spies; and as for the slain who shall 
 identify one among many bodies when the rites of 
 the hyenas and jackals are done ? Yet still the heart 
 of Chwa smouldered with passion for her even the 
 more furiously as touchwood fanned by the wind of 
 denial. Came the croak of the Black Baboon in his 
 jester's voice: 
 
 "From whom the god loveth he taketh! But 
 
 217
 
 what is one goat to the owner of many fine cattle ? 
 Doth not the white goat and the black goat smell alike 
 in the dark? Eh! Who is as wise as a fool!" 
 
 "Eh!" muttered Chwa within himself as an 
 unarmed hunter seeking to believe that a sapling shall 
 hide him from the wounded buffalo. "Shall I make 
 an army to chase a girl ? There are other women, 
 aye, all within my land! Yet shall one fire put out 
 another ?" 
 
 "Thou hast seen, O King, that thy dream was like 
 to a rotten berry," said Sinoja. "Yet mayhap thy 
 dream was a message from a god. What was the 
 dream, O King?" 
 
 "The King dreamed," cut in the Black Baboon 
 as swiftly as a sword parries a spear thrust, "that he 
 was a lion from whose lair was stolen a sweet banana 
 and that, led by the spirits, he came to the river and 
 after slaying a crocodile he found the banana hidden 
 in the hole beneath the bank." 
 
 "Eh! Eh!" grunted the attendant guards but 
 Chwa said no word. 
 
 "The dream," said Sinoja who had read the 
 symbolism, "hath other meaning, O ancient, for 
 'twas a message from Tchoon. The lion is thyself, 
 O King, the spirits are the voices of the whites and the 
 crocodiles (his own clan) are the guardians of the god." 
 
 "But what is the banana?" demanded Chwa. 
 
 'Twas no banana, O King, but a plantain, 
 and is not that thy country?" 
 
 "Ehh! Ehh!" repeated the guards much im- 
 pressed. 
 
 "Eh !" cried the jester mockingly, "who is swifter 
 
 218
 
 than a crocodile to snatch a morsel thrown upon the 
 water !" 
 
 But Chwa remained silent and his eyebrows were 
 sewn together. 
 
 "Wherefore doth thy god send such dreams ?" 
 he demanded. "Knoweth he not yet that the white 
 man is to me as the boar to the husbandman ?" 
 
 "True, O King," retorted Sinoja, "but who shall 
 read the skirts of Tanazi save the gods ?" 
 
 "Even some of the seeds in a badly sewn field," 
 said the Black Baboon, "take root and bear fruit, O 
 King. Despise not all poor farmers!" 
 
 "Aye," grunted Chwa, but as one who hath 
 discovered a strange spear in his hut, and turning he 
 made the sign of dismissal and went his way with the 
 Black Baboon following him. 
 
 "Eh!" murmured Sinoja, the priest, as he returned 
 to his own compound with a contortion upon his lips, 
 "as soon as the cock is on the dunghill the village is 
 his! How shall a man prosper if he obey not his 
 chief and a chief not his gods ? Eh ! if a thief loose 
 not his hand for thieving a fowl soon will he steal an 
 ox! Tchoon shall speak ere long and the spirit of 
 prophecy descend upon me and within six moons shall 
 the drum of Toko Toko sound in the land and the 
 words of the god be again made manifest to all men even 
 as I have said. Aye, at the festival of the jawbone of 
 Matanga shall his brother fall sick even as did his son 
 Tapakwe; is not the ghost of Matanga wrath with 
 Chwa seeking his hurt eh ! that shall be the first 
 prophecy ! Then by the power of the voice of Tchoon 
 shall I be regent until Tanka shall follow his father, 
 
 219
 
 and then shall I be the first priest-king even as they 
 were in the young moons of Tchoon. Ehh ! Mighty 
 is Tchoon! Who shall deny him?" 
 
 2 
 A man's arm, a woman's tongue. 
 
 Four score bow shots from the village of Chwa 
 the river swelled like a young tree about a gnarl where 
 the stream seemed to be swallowed entirely by the 
 forest which resembled a shield spread across a path 
 covering a score of islands. Upon one of these in the 
 centre approached by a waterway like a canoe path 
 through papyrus swamp, within a cave carven in the 
 dense jungle of mighty trees and palms almost as 
 closely woven as a basket by creepers, stood a large 
 hut with the twin bound thatches upon the ragged 
 roof enclosed by a skeleton of a stockade : the temple 
 of Katawazaka, an ancient king whose cult had long 
 been neglected by his descendants and his people 
 although the building was at long intervals repaired, 
 but as meanly as a poor relation's might be, and a 
 priestess, appointed by the Crocodile Clan whose duty 
 it was to fill such offices, dwelt there to tend the sacred 
 relics as in other shrines and to hope for the benefices 
 of some errant devotee. In a small cleared space at 
 the back of the temple upon the site of the ruins of the 
 vestals' dwellings was a newly built hut merely roofed 
 
 220
 
 and walled with green palm fronds. Before the door 
 the smoke of a smouldering fire resembled a toadstool 
 rising more than a man's height above the ground in the 
 still air turbid with the odours of green wood and 
 putrid mould. And beneath squatted Tsabi whose 
 head hung upon her shoulders as hangs a fetish on a 
 spear, and her back was like to a sapling upon which 
 an elephant has rubbed himself; her limbs were more 
 listless than a last season's plantain frond, and even 
 her breasts were like to an orange with the juice sucked 
 out. And as she chewed bitter grass she chanted in 
 the native way: 
 
 "Am I not but a rat caught in a pot 
 Whose lid is well sealed by magical withes ? 
 Mayhap a rat may gnaw a way to the light, 
 But how shall sharp teeth bite through a taboo ? 
 Aie! my bowels are as dried as a drum! 
 
 Bold is my lover now king of the world ! 
 Yet held is he too by the hands of a priest ! 
 He slayeth the white man and eateth his foe ! 
 But webbed are his feet in the net of the dead ! 
 Aie! my breasts are as shrunken as leaves! 
 
 Eh! the prince of the earth and the slayer of men! 
 His spear slays a king but not scratches a priest! 
 The arms which have crushed me are as feeble as mine! 
 Then how may poor me split the words of a ghost ? 
 Aie! my heart is a stone in a well!" 
 
 She ceased as from the dark of the hut door 
 emerged into the perpetual gloom of the forest clearing 
 the priestess upon whose skull of white wool, ill-stuck 
 upon a neck like the father of tortoises, were the twin 
 
 221 
 
 15
 
 sheaves of her office which suggested clumps of ele- 
 phant grass on an upland; the wrinkled face was like 
 to a sun-cracked orange husk; the limbs were scarcely 
 thicker than the haft of a spear; and the breasts re- 
 sembled an old iguana's belly. 
 
 "Eh! daughter," said the crone as she squatted 
 on her heels, "Tulili (the sun) standeth to scratch 
 when the bow waits for the arrow!" 
 
 "Teh!" retorted Tsabi, "the arrow plumed with 
 leaves (of the forest pygmy) is no mate for a warrior's 
 bow!" 
 
 "He! he!" cackled Tonya, "shall the jackal feast 
 with the lion ?" 
 
 "Rather a hyena than a crocodile (Sinoja's clan)," 
 muttered the girl. 
 
 "Eh, my daughter; true is it that the chops of 
 the bitch which hath tasted fresh blood slobber not 
 for carrion. Yet carrion is to the hungry better than 
 offal! When my breasts were as ripe as thine they 
 too yearned for the gaze of the chief of the priests, but 
 thy heart is swollen until thy ribs crack because once 
 a lion snuffed thy trail ! Eh ! pluck of the fruit within 
 thy grasp. Thinkest thou that Katawazaka will make 
 thy arms long enough to reach the pinnacle ? Teh ! 
 why should one who may taste of all the women of 
 the land snuff the trail of a daughter of a banana! 
 Teh!" 
 
 "My blood is the blood of lions!" responded 
 Tsabi gazing with fogged eyes at the fire ; "hot and 
 not cold as a toad's or a crocodile's!" 
 
 "Eh! Eh!" squeaked the hag irritably scratching 
 flakes from her shrivelled skin, "thou art but a vil- 
 
 222
 
 lage bitch baying the moon! Get thee hence, slave, 
 and bring water to cook and prepare for thy master 
 an he shall demand of thee! Choose green papayi, 
 wench, which shall tickle his taste, pumpkin and 
 young nuts. Haste, lest I put a spell upon one who 
 spits out the gifts of the god! Begone!" 
 
 But before the harangue was finished Tsabi had 
 risen leaving the crone like a bundle of faggots rattling 
 with wrath; and, calabash upon her head, was swaying 
 her lithe hips towards the river. The narrow path 
 was fenced on each side with creepers woven almost 
 as densely as the palisade of the royal enclosure. 
 Spatulate fronds caressed her smooth flesh like ghostly 
 fingers. A flock of green parrots disturbed at a meal 
 of the plantains of the shrine run wild fled screeching 
 with anger. An old chimpanzee high up in the 
 branches of a giant Bombax in bloom with flowers 
 the colour of new spilt blood peered down at her with 
 glittering eyes, his nostrils distended at the scent of 
 her sex. At the whisper of her feet on the path a huge 
 snake splotched with young and withered leaves, bark 
 and blood, gracefully uncoiled and blended himself with 
 the vivid undergrowth. Her eyes fluttered in the gloom 
 like white moths as she glanced up beneath her balanced 
 burden as the ape swung from one branch to another. 
 
 "Eh!" she exclaimed halting, one soot black 
 arm to her calabash, "a wild man of the forest!" 
 
 For the passing of a parrot across the sunset 
 bright eyes aloft met bright eyes below. Then the 
 chimpanzee shook violently a branch as if it were a 
 love lure. But assured by the size that he was not a 
 gorilla the girl cried shrilly: 
 
 223
 
 "Begone, thou old fool of the forest! Wouldst 
 make a stew for my husband's pot ?" and continued 
 her way unperturbed at the shivering of the leaves 
 as the beast followed her on high, muttering: "Is it 
 an omen ? Doth the soul of him in sleep take that 
 shape to warm my bowels ?" 
 
 A score of paces farther the dense undergrowth 
 shrank from the naked roots of great trees arching to 
 the stagnant water. Stepping from one to the other 
 she reached the sluggish stream and filled her calabash. 
 Then as she had balanced her burden anew a cry was 
 seized and strangled by the clammy forest hands. 
 Through the gloom she descried a single man in a 
 small canoe. 
 
 "Greeting!" called the stranger in a voice like to a 
 ripe fruit. "A seeker for the shrine of Katawazaka!" 
 
 "It is here, O man!" she responded. "What 
 wouldst thou ?" 
 
 "I have offerings for an oracle," returned the 
 youth in a dialect Tsabi knew was from the far south, 
 "for our need is dire and nought have they done for us, 
 those gods of our district. We are of the Otter Clan 
 and my uncle hath bidden me kneel before Katawazaka 
 to whom our clan in moons long gone were spear 
 makers. What may I do, O vestal ?" 
 
 "The ape!" she muttered and replied: "This is 
 the path, O youth, to the shrine of Katawazaka, the 
 all powerful. Do thou then follow the path and await 
 without the enclosure until the priestess doth call to 
 thee." 
 
 The presence of the ape, by many considered a 
 good omen, and this rare devotee of a forgotten god 
 
 224
 
 were to her as the promise of a rich relative to intercede 
 with the king to one doomed to the sacrifice. Her 
 heart swelled until the noise of her creaking ribs was 
 as the sound of war drums in her ears but swiftly her 
 feet sped along the path as deftly as a spider spinning 
 a web. Even as a scapegoat groaning with his broken 
 limbs reads succour in a browsing rhinoceros afar 
 Tsabi saw her lover speeding to her. Through the 
 gateway of the enclosure which was like to an ant-eaten 
 corpse of a bird she hastened, the calabash of water on 
 her head swaying to the drum beat of her lithe body; 
 words like rats chased by a dog fought in the burrow 
 of her throat. Then behind the ancient temple she 
 stopped both hands upswooping like bats to the cala- 
 bash which despite the floating leaves splashed gouts 
 of water upon her shoulders. Beside the smoulder- 
 ing fire the priestess lay upon her face, her crumpled 
 body like to a scabrous ape. As formless and as 
 hurried as a bee's hive disturbed at night by a snake 
 were the hopes that swarmed the mind of Tsabi as she 
 lowered the gourd of water and scurried to the pros- 
 trate crone. Dead she was, as the glazing eyes in the 
 furrowed pouches of her bony sockets proclaimed. 
 
 "Ehh!" 
 
 For the bleating of a goat the girl stood at gaze. 
 Then through the welter of the swarming hopes and 
 fears one darted as swiftly and as surely as a striking 
 hawk. By her two claw-like feet she seized the hag 
 and dragged the body into the hut and, snatching a 
 smouldering brand, she entered the temple by the 
 postern door of the craft. Within the inner chamber 
 where moulded the relics of the ancient king wrapped 
 
 225
 
 in rotting withes strewn with ivory beads and scarlet 
 seed-pods for his moons were long before the 
 cowrie shell was known she blew the ember into a 
 tiny fire; then through the rearward opening thrust 
 her head and loudly cried: 
 
 "Hasten, youthful stranger, the oracle awaits 
 thee!" 
 
 Back she scurried to blow the sulky fire into blaze 
 anew; and, when the youth called at the outer chamber, 
 answered in the tremulous accents of the aged: 
 
 "Who art thou ?" 
 
 "Katya, son of Balazi, of the Otter Clan." 
 
 "What seeketh thou ?" 
 
 "The wisdom of the King, Katawazaka." 
 
 "Hast thou goodly presents ?" 
 
 "Four fowls and two goats for now we are but 
 niggard sons of the river." 
 
 "Enter: for to the dead a goat is as an elephant!" 
 
 And when the fisherman had entered the outer 
 chamber, for a vestal of the temple of Tchoon knew 
 the ritual of the priestcraft, she listened to his pleas, 
 piling green wood upon the fire and from the veil of 
 the ascending smoke made answer : 
 
 "Son of Balazi, the maker of spears! 
 
 This is the word of Katawazaka! 
 
 Thy spears shall be sharpened, thy crops be full, 
 
 Thy nets and thy traps be heavy with fish, 
 
 And the wombs of thy wives more laden than they ! 
 
 The drums of the King shall summon thy chief 
 
 To the councils of him, the lord of the lions ! 
 
 If thou shalt carry these words to the King ! 
 
 Let thy lips be well sealed lest death take thee 
 
 226
 
 And all that is thine, thy father, thy clan! 
 Katawazaka, the small son of Tchoon, 
 Summons the son of Ntoko Nkwaza! 
 To bend the lone steps to my forest shrine ! 
 No guard nor a chief, no wife nor a priest 
 Must tread his path to the sound of my voice ! 
 My words are for him! Let his lips be sewn! 
 Begone thou, O Otter, swifter than hawks!" 
 
 3 
 Sweeter than honey is the death shriek of the foe \ 
 
 In the Council House upon the stool of ivory and 
 ebony sat Chwa, King of the Wajojo, laved and oiled 
 of body, the lion skin knotted about his left shoulder, 
 his feet upon the imperial rug and the sacred spear 
 across his thighs. At his right was Noona, the chief 
 minister, and at his feet the Black Baboon, painted 
 of face and in his many amulets and pods and strips 
 of monkey skin ; and before them squatted three score 
 and three chiefs of clans and officers, and upon not 
 one of them was the white man's cloth. Without 
 in the swelling shadows of the palisade were the royal 
 guards and lesser chiefs and peasants seeking audience 
 of the King. Among the latter was one whose tattooed 
 wheals on arms and chest the colour of an old gourd 
 and the hair as long as, and like to, the fibre of the 
 palm, proclaimed the distant district of his origin. 
 
 "Hoh!" laughed a guard, teeth flashing to his 
 
 227
 
 oiled spear, "this savage would have fought to bring 
 his old fish spear in the presence of the King!" 
 
 "Like enough he is a king on his own midden of 
 stinking fish!" jeered another, "and would hook a 
 lion with an eel's bait!" 
 
 "Lo ! a cannibal tried to eat him but at the stench 
 of rotten fish spewed him forth!" mocked a young 
 man. "Behold, the teeth marks!" 
 
 "Hoh! Hoh!" chorused the guards. 
 
 "What are thy words for the King, O man with 
 cannibal's teeth marks ?" demanded another deri- 
 sively. 
 
 "The words of a god are not for slaves," retorted 
 Katya sullenly. 
 
 "Eh!" said the chief of the guards, "sew your 
 mouths! Was not Tchoon in the likeness of a peas- 
 ant?" 
 
 And at the reference to the traditional story of 
 the race the young men hushed; even looks of awe 
 were cast upon the humble fisherman with the hair 
 erect like to a cluster of plantain blossom. At length 
 in his turn he was taken before the King to whom he 
 declined to make known the alleged message. 
 
 "From whom are the words ?" demanded Chwa 
 whose brows were tied at the semblance of a fisherman 
 daring to brook his will. 
 
 "Save to the ear of the King," returned Katya as 
 his knees shook like pebbles in an empty calabash, 
 "my lips are sewn lest the wrath of the god shall smite 
 me." 
 
 "Mayhap," suggested Noona, "he hath been 
 taken by the head to become a medium." 
 
 228
 
 "But he is not of the Crocodile Clan," objected 
 another chief. 
 
 "What matter?" said a third. "Mayhap the 
 white gods have a mind to talk from ghostland." 
 
 "If they have," said the Black Baboon, "they have 
 forgotten to send the demon water and must be blind if 
 they see not the difference between a king and a corpse !" 
 
 Chwa, beating the thicket of his mind, could not 
 discover the lurking answer to the riddle, but the man's 
 words seemed to him as good an omen as the flight of 
 a certain bird at the beginning of a journey. He 
 commanded the guards to care for the fisherman until 
 he should summon him and continued with the rest 
 of the applicants for audience; for, as far as possible, 
 he heard every petition or complaint from the humblest 
 of his subjects so that the folk called him the Open 
 Door and the disgruntled ones Big Ears. Yet the 
 words of the fisherman kept flying between those of 
 his people like bats across a full moon and he knew 
 not half what they said. When the sun was still 
 two hands high above the forest he made the sign of 
 dismissal and went to the private enclosure where, 
 seated alone, he received the fisherman. When he 
 had heard the mysterious message sent by Katawazaka 
 his heart grew small for he feared that the ghost of 
 his neglected ancestor was minded to grow wrath. 
 But why should the command be sent in secret ? Dis- 
 missing the man he summoned Mtesa, the jester. 
 
 "Either the god or the medium - - and what is 
 the difference between the voice and the body!" said 
 the Black Baboon, "fears someone and who should one 
 priest fear but another?" 
 
 229
 
 "But the medium is but a crone who hath not 
 been 'taken' or given an oracle since the moons of 
 my father's father." 
 
 "Even so," insisted the hunchback, "no heart 
 would become unstuck save one priest fearing the 
 magic of another, save that of a woman waiting for 
 love behind a fence." 
 
 "Eh!" grunted Chwa softly and his heart swelled 
 and the bowels of him were stirred. "But may such 
 an one speak through an oracle ? Eh ! Beneath 
 the mantle of Takwa shall I follow the trail and find 
 out what manner of game lurketh behind the words 
 of a god!" 
 
 "And if it be," concurred the Black Baboon, "but 
 the hot fingers of one priest seeking the vitals of another 
 then slay them both that neither may stir up the folk 
 to foolishness." 
 
 And so it was that night that a new wife sobbed 
 in her hut alone while her lord sped swiftly down 
 stream in the canoe of the fisherman, the stars glinting 
 on a single stabbing spear and making blue ripples of 
 his limbs. A pumpkin of a moon was struggling from 
 the wild hands of the forest as they entered the caverned 
 islands rustling and squeaking with the nocturnal 
 life. Leaving the fisherman whose heart had shrunken 
 to a pebble where the mighty roots snaked from water 
 into mud, Chwa followed the path by toe touch. 
 Presently his eyes detected through the dense gloom 
 the warm flicker of a fire and he remained as immobile 
 as one of the trees. Then his heart swelled so sud- 
 denly that it seemed to block his very throat as he 
 recognized the first voice which was like an invisible 
 
 230
 
 caress upon his bowels ; then came a violent expansion 
 of his nostrils and a pounding as of drums within his 
 ears as he recognized the second. 
 
 "Thou shalt do my will and none other," Sinoja 
 was saying. "Here shalt thou remain priestess of 
 the temple until such time that Toko Toko shall speak 
 again. If thou shalt - 
 
 As swiftly and as silently as a stalking wild cat 
 Chwa moved along the path, passed the ruined gate, 
 and glided around the temple along the crumbling 
 palisade; his eyes, which, reflecting the glow of the 
 small fire, were almost as luminous as a leopard's, 
 were fixed, never shifting for the whisk of a lizard's 
 tale and oblivious to the slender form of ebony, upon 
 the body the colour of blood and soot of Sinoja. Then 
 as black and as silently as a portion of the forest shadow 
 Chwa sprang and picking up the priest as if he were 
 but an empty calabash by the throat and one thigh, 
 bent him back in mid air until his spine and neck 
 were broken, the death scream starting a myriad 
 repetitions until the whole jungle seemed shrieking 
 savage acclamations of the deed. 
 
 231
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 i 
 
 The stalking lion roareth not. 
 
 In the village of Chwa and throughout the land 
 of the Wajojo throbbed the small drums and lyres of 
 feasting and dancing. After the full five moons pre- 
 scribed was the jawbone of the late king Matanga dug 
 from out the ant heap, clean and white, and together 
 with the other relics bound in withes, decorated with 
 cowrie shells and placed within the shrine prepared 
 even as his forefathers'; but no medium was appointed, 
 for since the gods had manifested their displeasure by 
 the snatching away utterly of the priest of Tchoon 
 had the word of the King abolished the craft, a decree 
 that had caused much murmuring against him, yet 
 the folk in their huts rejoiced exceedingly. Had not the 
 wholesale immolations which had always accompanied 
 the deaths or visits of royalty to the oracles of the gods 
 gone with the priests ? Eh ! 
 
 Of the meaning of the mysterious message the 
 fisherman had brought no man ever learned, although 
 it was said under the eaves that the girl, Tsabi, daughter 
 of the Banana, who had perished with others at the 
 grave of Matanga, had been resurrected by the gods 
 
 232
 
 to wive the King. Was she not found in the royal 
 enclosure on the morrow and had not the King made 
 her his first wife to the despite of Kanani, the mother 
 of Tanka ? Indeed it was whispered in the women's 
 compounds that the girl was not human but even like 
 to Bulwezi, the first wife of Tchoon, who had been the 
 spirit of the Plantain. And none save for the Black 
 Baboon and Tsabi knew that the King had been absent 
 that night nor that the crocodiles had feasted on the 
 bodies of a fisherman and a priest. 
 
 The tribe of Wajojo prospered; the crops were 
 full for the rains had been good even in the uplands, 
 cattle multiplied and the folk worked and danced in 
 peace, and only malefactors feared that they might 
 be sent to walk in ghostland forever shamed by their 
 mutilations. Nor were raids made now by their here- 
 ditary enemies the Wazingui since Chwa had slain 
 their king. And now his army was more powerful 
 than ever before; every peasant of subject tribes, 
 instead of setting out to war as a rabble armed with 
 club or hoe, was a trained warrior and owner of his 
 own spear. So the name of Chwa resounded through- 
 out the land and far beyond as the wisest of kings and 
 a mighty warrior. 
 
 The shadows had begun to uncoil again from their 
 midday sleep like gorged snakes. In the hut within 
 the private enclosure Chwa reclined upon a couch 
 of skins, his shaven and trimmed skull resting in his 
 cupped hands, the rise and fall of his huge chest gleam- 
 ing like wet black rock in the gloom as rhythmically 
 as the chanting of frogs. The full calf below a bent 
 knee flowed through an ivory bangle as a waterskin 
 
 233
 
 swells through tightly constraining fingers, smooth, 
 hard, and moist. The whites of the eyes staring into 
 the roof shadows resembled quartz pebbles such as 
 Tanka, his son, had played with. 
 
 As he had rent some of the meshes of the net of 
 taboos, firstly by the rejection and soiling of the white 
 god's fetish and then by the slaying of the white man, 
 so had almost the last of the strands been cast off by 
 the killing of Sinoja, an act fathered by passion which 
 he would never have dared to do had he stayed to 
 measure the possible consequences. Then, just as 
 nothing had happened when he had thrown away the 
 white fetish, so no terrible vengeance of the outraged 
 gods had stricken him for his impious slaughter of 
 their priest. His heart had grown within him until 
 his ribs seemed about to burst like a pod of a baobab ; 
 as a triumphant lion roaring his challenge to every 
 beast of the forest was Chwa : he would have trumpeted 
 his wrath for having been foiled so often by Sinoja 
 by abolishing all priests and temples as well. 
 
 "But," had said the old jester, "as thou art minded 
 to do so would the folk! Cut not all their bonds lest 
 they turn and rend thee ! If the King himself discard 
 all gods how then may he and his remain sacred in the 
 eyes of the people ? Make no man medium, but leave 
 them their shrines that they kneel before thy ancestors 
 as well as before thee, and slay not victims for ghostland, 
 for is it not better that they fight and fecundate for thee 
 than thy forefathers ? Let them keep their gods but 
 make those gods thy slaves even as do the whites!" 
 
 And Chwa had seen that the words were wise. 
 Indeed was he King now, lord of all and fearing none; 
 
 234
 
 for even of the sacred tribe of the Lions only he was in 
 the direct line ; also had he obtained his desire and soon 
 should she bear him a son. Yet now as he lay chewing 
 the grass other things stirred within him like the peck- 
 ing of a chick within the shell. 
 
 As the stockade is built by the wise man to guard 
 his cattle against the wild beasts so had Chwa formed 
 his army against the white man. But the moons fled 
 one after another like parrots against the sunset and 
 the masters of demon water and vendors of strange 
 gods came not despite the words of the Black Baboon. 
 Eh! mighty men were these that tarried in their far 
 off country! Teh! wise was the Black Baboon, but 
 where is he that hath not misread an omen ? And the 
 army like a growing leopard cub was thirsting after 
 blood; the more numerous and more powerful they 
 grew the more the hearts of the warriors swelled to 
 cracking even as did their King's and their eyes turned 
 as yearningly as an eagle's upon a dying buffalo towards 
 the country of the Wazingui, a rich land of cattle and 
 women which their chiefs had for more moons than 
 there are cowrie shells in a basket longed to subdue. 
 Then as Chwa stretched his mighty limbs as a hunting 
 dog at the clink of spears came the old hunchback to 
 him in the manner that only he should dare ; and Chwa 
 told him of that which was in his mind to declare a 
 war upon the Wazingui even as his fathers had, and 
 eat them up entirely. 
 
 "Thy belly is now stretched to bursting," retorted 
 the old jester. "Hast a rat gnawing thy bowels too ?" 
 
 "Nay," denied Chwa sitting up with a great 
 laugh in his chest, "but my limbs are stiff with much 
 
 235
 
 feasting and my warriors are like to hawks in a trap 
 scenting the game afar." 
 
 "Aye," retorted the Black Baboon, "remember 
 my words that I gave thee to wait until thy brother was 
 locked in the fight with the Wazingui and then thou 
 shouldst take both at thy ease. Wouldst that the white 
 men should do the like with thee ?" 
 
 "Teh! these white men are but as women 
 frightened to chase the boars from a plantation, else 
 why lurk they in their distant huts ? Have we not 
 slain them and their priests ? Yet they make no raid 
 nor any words!" 
 
 "Thou knowest not the ways of white men. 
 Cunning fishermen be they for they let the bait lie 
 softly until it be low down in the stomach and then 
 on a sudden is the fish floundering on the bank." 
 
 "Hoh! my father of baboons!" scoffed Chwa, 
 "thy bowels are growing withered and thy heart no 
 longer swells at the scent of blood or women! Are 
 not my spears more numerous than the plantains ? 
 What may they do, these few white men, with their 
 magic firesticks and their driven slaves ? And they 
 be mighty warriors would they long have given battle, 
 not slinking around my village middens trading demon 
 water and cloth to fools and making hollow words 
 of gods that have no magic! Nay, to-morrow shall 
 I call the Council and make the hearts of the young 
 men to burst their ribs like ripe oranges and we shall 
 add the kingdom of Wazingui to my children, and 
 camp followers shall they be for me. Hoh! Hoh!" 
 he cried excitedly, "then indeed shall we march sweep- 
 ing all before us towards the home of Takwa and drive 
 
 236
 
 these whites thou prattlest of into the big waters! 
 And shall the fruit of my loins be the kings of the earth !" 
 
 "Nay," responded the Black Baboon as one speak- 
 ing to a man bewitched with a grievous sickness, "neither 
 of these things mayest thou do for thou art like to a cock- 
 erel crowing valiantly upon a midden wotting naught 
 of the hundreds like to it within the same village." 
 
 "Teh!" exclaimed Chwa and his brows were 
 strongly sewn and blood was in his eyes. "Am I not 
 Chwa, the King ? Dost pull the whiskers of the lion 
 in his own lair ?" 
 
 Suddenly rose a murmur without, a sleepy gate- 
 keeper grumbled, and a voice shrilled breathlessly. 
 Then entered the guard at the gate calling that a 
 messenger from an important chief demanded instant 
 admission to the King. Squatting in the entrance 
 of his hut Chwa received the fellow who reeking with 
 sweat flung himself upon his face. 
 
 "The white men," he panted, "are at my master's 
 village demanding entrance into thy kingdom." 
 
 "The chief knows well my word that no white 
 man may pass!" growled Chwa angered. 
 
 "Indeed, yes, O Lord, but he bade me say that 
 if thou wilt not give thy word that they will come in 
 as they will." 
 
 "Is the liver of Kavendi then turned to water?" 
 demanded Chwa. 
 
 "Nay, nay, O Lord, but they are many and with 
 many strange warriors with many firesticks." 
 
 "How many white men ?" 
 
 "As many as a man may have fingers and toes," 
 returned the peasant. 
 
 23? 
 
 16
 
 "Teh !" ejaculated Chwa. "Didst hear my words, 
 O Baboon ?" he added turning to Mtesa. "A score 
 of whites ! Hoh ! And, even as before, cringing like 
 a dog for the word of its master to enter the compound ! 
 Hoh! Mighty warriors! Hoh! A mouthful for the 
 black lion! scarce enough to slake my own spear!" 
 
 "And of the strange warriors ?" put in the Black 
 Baboon. 
 
 "Eh!" gasped the man, "more than the cowries 
 that make the price of a woman. Strange are they, 
 black yet with long hair like to the whites." 
 
 "Teh!" snorted Chwa again and his eyes were 
 gleaming like a bayed lion and his nostrils twitching 
 as a leopard snuffing the trail of a quarry. "Teh! 
 return and bid Kavendi give these words: I, Chwa, 
 the King, shall myself come and if as much as one 
 slave of the white man remain shall he die of the death 
 by the bamboo knife! Begone!" 
 
 And all the night the war drums roared. 
 
 The elephant hath farther to fall than the wild cat. 
 
 Tanazi had hardly leaped upon the heels of Takwa 
 when again in the Council House were assembled 
 the chiefs and officers ; but of the sixty and three were 
 no more than a score who had acclaimed the word 
 of the King for the war upon the whites ; withered men 
 
 238
 
 of white tufts upon their shrunken chins and young 
 men scarcely wived sat in the places of the dead; 
 and few indeed were marked by the magical paint 
 against the ghosts of the slain but many were they 
 whose limbs and bodies were bound with withes and 
 plantain fronds and bore the sears of hot irons and the 
 scars of the cuppings of the medicine men. Without 
 in the large enclosure squatted five of the royal guards 
 and they were in like case. The murmurs of the 
 village life on the still hot air, although the shadows 
 had been born but a little while, were as when Tulili 
 perches upon the highest tree top; even the bleatings 
 of goats and the lowings of cattle seemed to struggle 
 from a hut with the door shut. 
 
 Then as suddenly as the startled scream of a 
 parrot rushed a blare of sound like to, and as long as 
 the challenge of a cock as big as an elephant. Un- 
 answered the insolent crow dashed like a flight of 
 pursuing hawks into the surrounding forest setting 
 up a screeching of parrots and chattering of monkeys. 
 Then again strangled silence was drawn like a net 
 over the village. 
 
 "Eh!" muttered one of the guards clutching 
 with his unwounded arm at an amulet, "mighty is 
 the voice of their fetish! Ehh!" 
 
 "A horn of a strange beast it is the colour of a 
 lion," said another. "Eh! if we could capture that 
 their power would be as water in hot sand!" 
 
 "Sew thy mouth !" growled a third, " 'tis Panazi 
 hath the word!" 
 
 From the interior of the long low hut a voice 
 emerged, the voice of an old man: 
 
 239
 
 "Nay, O Kitaka, thy liver is like to a rock and thy 
 heart bigger than an elephant's, but how shall a 
 cockerel do battle with an eagle ? Wouldst fight a 
 raging lion with thy nails ? How may we prevail 
 against the sorcery of these whites who slay far beyond 
 an arrow's flight ? whose demons on three legs vomit 
 stones faster than a man may cough ?" 
 
 "Eh ! how shall I jump over my wife whose uncle 
 and brothers are slain by them ? How may I appease 
 their ghosts while yet a spear remains to my hand ?" 
 growled a young voice vibrating like a tortured leop- 
 ard's. 
 
 "Ugh! Ugh!" rose several belly grunts of assent. 
 
 "Thy words are as a spear blade," continued the 
 elder, "but canst thou hold the lightning from thy 
 hut with thy hands ? Whose hearts are bigger than 
 those of the Wajojo ? Yet came we not against the 
 whites and they no more than ten score men for 
 five suns each after the other and do not the bodies of 
 our chiefs and warriors lie like the mounds in the 
 valley of ant heaps ? And how many of you have 
 sought the appeasing of the ghosts of the slain ? Not 
 for one white man! and scarce a warrior save when 
 they rose to meet us with the spears upon their fire- 
 sticks!" 
 
 A chorus of deep grunts testified to the truth of 
 the old man's statement. 
 
 "Nay," shouted another young voice, "let us slake 
 our spears once more ! Mayhap the gods will aid us !" 
 
 "Eh! Eh!" screamed another. " 'Tis not the 
 magic of these whites but the vengeance of Tchoon 
 because the King hath forsaken his ancestors! Ehh!" 
 
 240
 
 "Nay!" responded an older chief, "shall a leopard 
 who hath escaped the trap return to avenge himself?" 
 
 "If thy foe defeat thee shalt thou not make words 
 with him ? Aye ! ten cattle and two women are better 
 than none !" 
 
 "Slay! Slay" shrilled the young men. 
 
 Then as if in answer rose that challenging blare 
 and the limbs of nigh every man tautened as those 
 startled by the charge of an enemy ; and in silence the 
 echoes grimaced from the forest. 
 
 "The white men!" announced the guards, and 
 through the door entered a white man carrying a stick 
 of hippopotamus hide followed by the tall negroid 
 form of the evangelist of the Stork. Small was the 
 white with the shoulders of one bearing many moons 
 walking after the manner of a cock guinea fowl ; hair 
 like to corn stubble of the uplands was upon his upper 
 lip and, although he blinked and peered like a grand- 
 father, the face was as smooth and as round as a ripe 
 gourd. 
 
 "Eh!" whispered a young chief, the same who had 
 cried aloud for slaughter, to his neighbour as Maliko 
 set a stool of cloth for the white to sit, "he is of the 
 same clan as the Vat, for hath he not the false eyes 
 perched upon his nose ? He bringeth the vengeance 
 of the white man's god!" 
 
 "Eh!" commented an elderly chief who had once 
 worn the white man's cloth, "said I not to Matanga 
 that nought could prevail against the magic of the 
 white gods ? See, alone he cometh with neither guard 
 nor firestick! Ehh! Powerful is his fetish." 
 
 "Look!" muttered another, "he maketh fire with 
 
 241
 
 a splinter of wood even as his brother the Brass - 
 Eater! Mighty is their magic!" 
 
 From the white man's mouth issued smoke drawn 
 from the piece of wood held between his teeth even as 
 the Brass-Eater had done and, as he spoke white man's 
 words to him whom they had called the dung-eater, his 
 teeth flashed like brass spears. 
 
 "Shall the white avenger," demanded Maliko 
 as a jackal might snap at a dying lion, "await the pleasure 
 of thy tiny chief?" 
 
 "Eh!" murmured several; but the brother of 
 Noona, the successor of the fallen minister, spoke in 
 the slow deep words of a chief addressing a slave's slave. 
 
 "Tell the master (of a slave) that we await our 
 lord's presence." 
 
 Came the salute of the guards and in the doorway 
 stood the tall figure of Chwa. He wore the ostrich 
 plumes of white and the single lion skin knotted over 
 the left shoulder; his chest was splashed with red 
 ochre and on his limbs and body were many bandages 
 of plantain fibre; his right arm swung like a broken 
 branch and in his left hand he grasped the sacred spear 
 on which he leaned as he hobbled to the royal stool 
 of ebony and ivory ; and behind him lolloped the Black 
 Baboon. As Chwa sat a quiver as light as the rustle 
 of frond brushed his shoulders and upper lip. His 
 brows were tightly sewn. Upon the white, who was 
 speaking to Maliko, he gazed not at all. 
 
 "O Chief," said Maliko, and his voice resembled 
 a crow scolding an elephant, "my master who is the 
 spear hand of the great white queen hath himself come 
 to hear thy answer to his words." 
 
 242
 
 For the stalking of a hen across a compound was 
 silence. Chwa seemed not to have heard or seen. 
 Then his eyes which were like to a wounded buffalo's 
 passed over the interpreter as if he were a midden to 
 the white man. 
 
 "My answer, O white man, is that two cocks may 
 not crow upon one dunghill!" 
 
 As Maliko chattered angrily to the white man cries 
 arose from the assembled chiefs. 
 
 "The King hath not heard our words! May we 
 tie up the lightning with a withe ? The King hath 
 taken our magic from us even as he took the priests !" 
 
 "Nay, let us slake our spears, O King!" shrilled 
 the young man; but boomed a heavier voice: 
 
 "No priest was there to anoint the King's feet!" 
 
 "He hath broken the taboo so are we defeated!" 
 
 "Broken the taboo! Broken the taboo of the 
 royal feet!" 
 
 "Nay! Nay!" chorused many. " 'Tis the ven- 
 geance of Tchoon! We had no fetishes from the 
 priests! Let us take the words of the white man! 
 He hath taken the priests! Shall a cockerel fight an 
 eagle?" 
 
 Then amid the hubbub rose Chwa upon one leg 
 to his full height. 
 
 "I am Chwa, the King !" he cried like to the bellow 
 of a bull buffalo. "The word is mine!" 
 
 Then the assembly resembled a flock of startled 
 parrots each squawking louder than the other. Over 
 them the gaze of Chwa roved as a bayed lion a circle 
 of hunters. His brows were wrinkled like the belly 
 of a dead iguana; his chest rose and fell like a spear 
 
 243
 
 maker's bellows. The voice of the young man crying 
 in support of the King was drowned like the splash of 
 a pebble in the roar of the falls. Chwa would have 
 gestured to the guards but they were but five and 
 sorely wounded; the bowstring of his army was 
 snapped. Then above the tumult shouted Maliko 
 in the manner of a white man: 
 
 "These are the words of the great white chief: 
 The words which Matanga made shall be eaten as they 
 are marked; for each white slain shall cattle and ivory 
 be paid according to our marking ; and the head of the 
 King shall rest between the knees of the white lord 
 that his words to the children of the Wajojo shall 
 taste sweet in our mouth. Hasten! The white chief 
 awaits thy answer !" 
 
 As tongues were stricken and eyes speared 
 the King, the Black Baboon shrilled like to a 
 woman warning her children of a mamba in the 
 path: 
 
 'Tis the elephant maddened with pain that 
 pursueth the hunter's skin into the game pit! Re- 
 member the words of the baboon which is black, O 
 King!" 
 
 But the slowly moving gaze of Chwa passed over 
 the Black Baboon as if he were a calabash and stopped 
 at the white man who, sitting with smoke curling from 
 his lips, regarded him as one observing a lizard on a 
 hut wall. 
 
 "The answer of the King," said Chwa, "shall 
 be given with the rising of the sun !" and leaning on 
 his spear he swung his back upon them all and limped 
 from the Council House. 
 
 244
 
 3 
 Is ghostland colder than a shorn heart? 
 
 As the head of Tulili was sinking between the 
 knees of Takwa came the Black Baboon to the entrance 
 of the King's enclosure where crouched the wounded 
 royal guards. And they arose and barred his path, 
 saying : 
 
 "Nay, O father of Baboons, the door is closed even 
 unto thee until the answer is given." 
 
 "Eh! better a fool than a king, for if a god slay 
 him not the folk shall! But who may say which is 
 which ?" 
 
 "Eh !" muttered the chief of the guards watching 
 the shaven skull bobbing above the hump like a fisher- 
 man's float, "wise is the old baboon, for no man may 
 understand his words!" 
 
 On a couch of skins within the private hut sat 
 Tsabi upon her calves and on her thigh rested the head 
 of Chwa. His eyes, as heavy lidded as the rims of 
 the first rain clouds, gleamed as dully as a bloodied 
 blade in the light of the smoky fire which glinted 
 faintly on the sacred spear. As upon the wailing of 
 the mourners, the lowing of cattle and the bleating 
 of goats came the white warriors' call like to a sacrificial 
 club spattering the victim's skull, his belly contracted, 
 and his nostrils were stretched and he grunted as one 
 stabbed in the bowels. 
 
 The notes rushed through the air with the whir 
 of the wings of eagles and only when they were passed 
 
 245
 
 as timidly as pigeons and fowls slunk forth other 
 sounds. The heart of Chwa resembled a ripe papayi 
 fruit fallen to the ground; his guts were twisted and 
 his liver squeezed and words were but as the fluttering 
 of feathers from a plucked hen. 
 
 "Let his slave raise her voice that her lord may 
 eat?" said Tsabi as speaks the forest dove; but he 
 answered not or did his eyelids even blink in the glow 
 of the fire. 
 
 Takwa took the world into her dark hand and the 
 silence of the chanting of frogs and the wailing of the 
 mourners. 
 
 "The medicine men are without," said Tsabi, 
 as arose a murmur like the rustle of fronds. 
 
 But Chwa neither moved nor spoke. . . The eye 
 of Banonda peered godlike through the open door 
 upon the soot-black pod of the slumbering child of 
 Chwa; and the mother spoke again: 
 
 "O my lord, wilt thou not slake thy thirst ?" 
 
 "No thirst have I," he replied like the wind through 
 the tree tops," save for that which my children deny 
 me." 
 
 "O my lord," said she yet again, "wilt thou not 
 drink that thy whelp may live ?" 
 
 A tremor shook his body as when Tchoon shakes 
 the earth; he stirred and turned about so that his 
 shoulders were to the fire and his face to the wall of 
 the hut. 
 
 "No lion," said he as one whose soul already 
 wanders, "shall be a pariah in the village of the white 
 man." 
 
 The moon shadows swallowed the hut interior; 
 
 246
 
 the fire slept; the yapping of jackals struck the mourn- 
 ing wail like arrows upon a shield; far away a parrot 
 screeched. As Banonda was gnawing the robe of 
 Tanazi, Tsabi put out her hand and touched her man. 
 Tulili hurled her javelin of light. Tsabi took the 
 sacred spear. She placed the three prongs beneath 
 her left breast . . . 
 
 Then hoarsely rang the paean of the white man 
 like to a rutting bull. 
 
 247
 
 UNCONVENTIONAL BOOKS 
 
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