Sweeter than warm honey was the scent of my man! Whiter than a spear flash was the gleam of his teeth! Fiercer than scorpions was the grip of his hand! Smooth and like stone was——"

A gale of yells and shots destroyed the song of Bakuma like a foot crushing a flower.

Zalu Zako leaped to his feet and stood for a moment listening intently. Across the river some strange beast spat spears of red flames. A little farther down another beast coughed violently like a hippopotamus. The sky seemed falling. Such volumes of sound he had never heard before.

As he raced with the speed of a koodoo through the plantation he saw the glow of fire ahead and heard the moan of some terrible monster near him. He leaped five feet in the air as the world appeared to crack in half beside him. He felt a sting like a brand of fire in his shoulder, but he ran on towards the village from whence fled dim figures on all sides amid shouts and screams and wailing.

Several huts were already blazing. The leviathan coughed and moaned again and once more the earth seemed to crash to pieces near him. Appalled and bewildered, choking with rage, he reached the outer enclosure where his fellow warriors were shouting and yelling that the white gods were attacking. Bakahenzie, gun in hand, was bidding them charge they knew not what. Then out of the clutter of the village broke line upon line of yelling figures clothed in uniform. Screaming the battle-cry, the warriors charged, led by Zalu Zako, Bakahenzie, and Kawa Kendi, who in the excitement had dashed from the enclosure. Howls and yells were drowned in the spiteful crackle and cough. Warriors were mown like weeds under a sickle. Scarce a hundred scrambled inside the enclosure at the rallying call from Bakahenzie.

Again came a short rush of those uniformed figures; again scarlet spears pierced the green moonlight like a hailstorm; small red flames rippled in a line resembling a forest fire as the soldiers charged through and over the palisade. Hand to hand was the fighting, spear and sword against bayonet and rifle around the idol, the askaris outyelling the warriors. The temple was on fire. In the light of the flames they saw a tall figure in white with a glow of fire in his mouth and magic eyes upon his hands, eyes which flashed rays of scarlet and blue as he cut and hacked at the base of the idol.…

"Tarum hath come!" screamed some one, and as the cry was taken up, the Unmentionable One tottered and crashed to the ground.

They fled, Zalu Zako, Bakahenzie and those that were left.



CHAPTER 12

The village of Yagonyana, the son of Zahilazaan, was situated some five days' march to the north-west of Kawa Kendi's, in open cattle country near the fringe of the forest. Here were gathered nearly every witch-doctor and warrior of the tribe. Most of the women, children, and slaves had been sent still farther to the west, driving the cattle before them.

Bakahenzie, Zalu Zako, Marufa, and all those warriors who had escaped from the massacre by zu Pfeiffer were distinguished from their brethren by circles of yellow earth around each left eye, and each right breast and arm was smeared with red, which is part of the ceremony of magic purification for those who have slain, lest, as is well known, the ghost of the dead wreak their wrath upon their slayers.

The affairs of the tribe were in a parlous state. The netting of the tabu had been tangled by the death of the King-God, Kawa Kendi, and the unprecedented act of the overthrow of the idol. Kawa Kendi's body, which had not been recovered so that the doctors could release his unhappy soul, might be used to make more magic against the tribe.

For three weeks there had been much discussion among the doctors, the chiefs, and the people. Opinions were at variance; no two men could agree. Lesser wizards, who before had been content with the perquisites of the smaller offices, were now made drunken by the insecurity of Bakahenzie's position. Each of the doctors, seeing a chance to prove his superior merit and win Bakahenzie's post as chief doctor, had busily made magic to destroy the usurper, and each and every one provided a different reason for the failure thereof. Every day came news of the doings of the white god with eyes upon his hands, of shootings and floggings, of the burning of the village including the idol, the temple, and the sacred tombs of MFunya MPopo, of MKoffo, of MZrakombinyana, and other kings before them.

The council of the craft could not even decide whether Zalu Zako was to be King-God or not. Bakahenzie, whose interest lay in supporting the dynasty of the present royal family, maintained that he should be anointed forthwith. But with the downfall of the idol and his own impotence to make successful magic, Bakahenzie's prestige had been badly shaken; no longer dared he issue dicta autocratically. As ever, political ambition tore patriotism to shreds.

Marufa, former close ally of Bakahenzie, but lacking his active principle, continued to mutter incantations most impressively by himself, waiting cautiously to see which side of the river the arrow fell. Bakahenzie became seriously alarmed at the growth of Yabolo's faction and the indifference of Marufa. He knew well that submission would entail the loss of his post as well as his worldly goods; and he was aware that all men knew that his most potent and strenuous magic had failed as utterly as that of the youngest novice in the craft. His only chance to retrieve a portion of his lost reputation was to invent a more plausible excuse for failure than any other doctor had done. He did.

Although he did not know that Bakuma had broken the magic circle of her own volition, he had the shrewd imagination to suggest that she had either fled with the other women during the attack or that, even if she had stayed, the askaris would have taken her from the hut. Therefore did he demand an assembly of the craft and chiefs. One of the reasons, if not the reason, of Bakahenzie's success, as of other witch-doctors before, such as Savonarola, had been a faculty, inspired by, or derived from, hysterical epilepsy, of working himself up at will into a state of convulsion without actual loss of consciousness and the spectacular exhibition of foam, which no other sorcerer had been able to simulate so successfully. Therefore Bakahenzie invoked the great Tarum (apotheosis of ancestors' spirits) who, through the convulsed body, did proclaim that the disaster had been caused by the breaking of the magic circle by one whose name was accursed; and that only could the magic of Bakahenzie be made potent, and the consequent overthrow of the Eyes-in-the-hands be assured, by the sacrifice of the victim to her destiny as the Bride of the Banana.

Marufa, appreciating the shrewdness of this move, immediately abandoned his incantations to reassume his allegiance to the cause of Bakahenzie. The prophecy was hailed by nearly every one as a most timely excuse for the failure of magic in general. The miraculous recall of the Unmentionable One now seemed so easy of accomplishment through the person of Bakuma that many of those who had sided with Yabolo deserted him, foreseeing the renewed ascendancy of Bakahenzie and fearing his wrath.

Yabolo, however, made an attempt to recover the lost adherents by protesting that the Moon of the Harvest Festival had not yet come, and that therefore victory could not be obtained until two more moons had waned. But MYalu saw that by submitting to the new god he might be able to have removed the tabu upon Bakuma—all things were possible to one who had overthrown the Unmentionable One—and thus obtain her by the price of submission; also he might possibly recover his wealth of ivory abandoned after the massacre. Therefore did he with his people go over to the Yabolo faction.

Uproar and confusion ensued. Bakahenzie recovered from his trance with unprecedented rapidity and even did not require to be told what the spirit of Tarum had said through his lips. The tribe was split into fiercer factions than ever. They argued and screamed and cursed. Bakahenzie had lost the hold over them; for as the god, of which he was the sponsor, was dead, his credit had gone too. He dared no longer to remove a troublesome brother or chief by magic. His only hope was to restore the god: so to that end he declared that Zalu Zako must be anointed King-God. Uproar arose once more. But Bakahenzie's purpose had been served; he had diverted their attention from the subject of submission.

From time to time came terrified runners with horrific stories of the burning of villages, of massacre and rapine. Bakahenzie, determined not to yield, secretly dispatched a slave to Eyes-in-the-hands with an arrow which is a sign of war; Yabolo, whose mind ran in the same tracts, sent a banana which is a sign of peace. In the meantime factions grew and multiplied. One chief counselled his followers to take their cattle and women and seek to conquer another tribe to the south-west; another wished to go west. But each and every follower began to bargain with his chief for disproportionate rewards for service. Two chiefs and five hundred men started to the south-west, but they returned because they had met in their path the skeleton of a slain elephant, which is, as everybody knows, a sure sign of disaster.

Bakahenzie sent runners far and wide to discover Bakuma. As she could not be found he concluded that she had been killed or taken as a slave and urged the warriors to fight. Zalu Zako immediately desired the anointing to be delayed in order that he should not be debarred from fighting. Bakahenzie, none too sure of his authority, was compelled to acquiesce. Marufa, observing that the arrow was still in the air, took to his non-committal incantations again. Bakahenzie strove to keep the warriors and chiefs occupied by dissension until the result of his challenge to battle should mature. Yabolo, equally perturbed for his influence, did exactly the same with the banana in view.

Yabolo and MYalu contemplated going in to make submission, but the former wished to negotiate through Sakamata for the best terms, although he tried to persuade MYalu to go; but MYalu was suspicious and would not do so without Yabolo. But at the hour of the monkey one morning came a terrified goatherd crying news that cut the tangled threads of their intrigues as a sword cuts a goat's throat. The white god, Eyes-in-the-hands, was within an arrow's flight of the village of Yagonyana.

Consternation ensued. The village and the temporary camp of grass huts buzzed and hummed. Zalu Zako dashed out, sword and spear in hand, and in the glow of the awakened fires harangued the warriors, urged that they should make a swift detour through the forest and attack the white man as he entered the village. Bakahenzie supported this plan of campaign. MYalu, stung by the recollection of the loss of many tusks to the invader, incontinently abandoned Yabolo and pressed for a frontal attack. Yabolo contended that they send an envoy to make terms, but not very insistently. In spite of the assurance of Sakamata, he was suspicious of the new god's gentle ways. Marufa, the wise, collected those of his household who had remained with him, and quietly made his way to the forest.

But Zalu Zako's martial spirit was overcome by the clamour of those who would flee before worse befell, crying that the white god, Eyes-in-the-hands, would eat them all up with the terrible monsters who coughed flames and death; others screeched that the uniformed devils were spirits of the night and therefore invincible; for always they came in the dark. So they hesitated, shouted and argued. Then came a scout screaming that the enemy was upon them, corroborated by a vicious cough.

A pom-pom shell landed in the midst of the crowded village. Zalu Zako, Bakahenzie and their small following were nearly swept away in the rush of five thousand odd warriors in flight. From the forest they watched with awestruck eyes the burning of the village.



CHAPTER 13

On the morning on which zu Pfeiffer burned the village of Yagonyana, Birnier was encamped upon the southern boundary of Wongolo. By his "coup de superstition" had he recovered all his equipment except several bottles of brandy, some canned goods and two and a half pairs of pyjamas; also the field boots. The noble Inyira, son of Banyala, and his merry men never attempted to recapture their prisoners; no one save the Eater-of-Men in person could have persuaded them to return to that camp even had they had their rifles.

After Birnier had dressed his own foot and the charred feet of his men, had had a good drink and a better meal, he had sought to address the balance of his mind through a medium designed for the cure of melancholy, but efficacious for many other ills, The Anatomy of Melancholy. He opened the one big volume which had been his companion throughout his travels at a page marked at haphazard by an ivory paper knife with the American flag upon the flat hilt, an early gift from Lucille, and began to read the remarks of Robert Burton of quaintly glorious memory upon the source of his late adventure.

"Those which are jealous, most part, if they be not otherwise relieved, proceed from suspicion to hatred, from hatred to frenzy, madness, injury, murder and despair … Amestris, Xerxes's wife, because she found her husband's cloak in Masista's house, cut off Masista's wife's paps and gave them to the dogs, flayed her besides and cut off her ears, lips, tongue, and slit the nose of Artaynta, her daughter."



"Cheerful lady! She ought to have been zu Pfeiffer's wife," commented Birnier and went to sleep.

Birnier arose feeling rational enough to reconsider his position. The recollection of the signature on the photograph now failed to stimulate the emotional reaction as once it had done. The experience through which he had passed had had a beneficial effect in breaking or disconnecting the train of suggestive images. At first in the recess of his mind had lurked the desire to abandon everything, to rush straight to Lucille to demand an explanation. Now the rising sun of reason cast quite different shadows upon the incident. The high light was the fact that should he do so he would be sacrificing his mission for what might prove to be ridiculous. As his mind contemplated the subject the echo of "a toi, Lucille" tended to carry a high note, but this he vented by writing a long letter to Lucille recounting the facts and frankly admitting that he had been sufficiently insane with jealousy to "go up in the air." Once or twice he ceased to write and gazed anxiously into the glare as his imagination suggested the long period of waiting for an answer, wondering whether the echo of that cursed "a toi" might not become unbearably shrill. He became a little more sentimental towards the end of the letter, remarking that perhaps he had been wrong in deserting her for so long and emphasising the rather ridiculous point that he was aware that he was not a young man. However, he let it remain, and at the first opportunity sent off the letter by runner to the nearest station in Uganda, together with an order for certain goods to be sent to a village on the Wongolo border.

Although still inclined to be emotional over the photograph, Birnier did not waste any energy over vindictive thoughts upon zu Pfeiffer, whom he philosophically regarded as irresponsible for his actions, inasmuch as he had been made that way just as any savage. He had gotten out of the toils set for him, so why should he spend time and trouble in seeking revenge which would merely consist in reporting the incident through a British station to Washington, who would open up interminable polite correspondence with the German Embassy, who would again write prodigious letters to the Colonial Minister in Berlin, who would… Ludicrous! No; he would not permit zu Pfeiffer to interfere with his plans. He would continue straight to Wongolo instead of investigating the Kivu country, where zu Pfeiffer might perhaps have another opportunity to cause more trouble. Accordingly he negotiated with the nearest village for carriers and set out, striking due west, thus approaching the Wongolo territory towards the southern boundary.

The people to the south of the Wongolo country was an inferior race, whom the Wongolo periodically raided to replenish their slaves. These Wamongo were split up into several petty chiefdoms, usually at war with one another. They had no defined theology. For they had not progressed beyond the stage of magic as far as any concept of religion, that is of praying for intercession to any power greater than themselves; whereas the mental state of the Wongolo was half-way between magic and religion, mixing and confusing the two as exemplified in the Rain-making ceremony of employing magic and alternately invoking the god and threatening him with dire penalties if he did not behave. There seemed to be no royal family or clan of the Wamongo; chiefs changed constantly as one more powerful for the moment arose; the wizards did not appear to have any political power, acting as general physicians and confining their efforts apparently to simple magic for the growing of corn, the curing of the evil eye and wounds. They were terrified of the Wongolo, much to Mungongo's pride, who never let slip an opportunity of swaggering and bruiting abroad the fame of his master as the greatest of magicians the world had ever seen. Never was he tired of relating to a grunting audience the terrible sight and effect of his master's transposition into a spirit. The yarn lost nothing in the telling.

Progress was slow. Every afternoon, as regular as the sun set, clouds of sepia sailed up from the west to clothe the world in a grey deluge of falling water. Fortunately they were travelling up a watershed so that there were no large rivers to cross. As they approached the Wongolo border rumours began of a white god with eyes upon his hands and live fire in his mouth who, so said the delighted Wamongo, had entirely eaten up the hated Wongolo. They seemed prepared to accept Birnier, when suggesting that he should make magic for them to conquer the Wongolo, as another terrible white god, and were accordingly polite. But Mungongo, vastly indignant, denied the story; according to him, no power on earth could have subdued his race, except perhaps the mighty Moonspirit (the name he had bestowed upon Birnier).

But when Birnier arrived at the first village of the Wongolo the absence of warriors corroborated the wild tales they had heard. The inhabitants of old men, boys and women surrounded the camp to gaze in awestruck curiosity at the white whom they believed to be the brother of the Eyes-in-the-hands. This calumny Mungongo strenuously gainsaid, and anew recounted the marvellous feats of magic of Moonspirit who could, he assured his compatriots, eat up Eyes-in-the-hands as easily as a crocodile would swallow a goat. Yet in spite of their terror they insisted that Birnier must go through the ceremony of purification incumbent upon all strangers in order to exorcise the evil influence of their eyes and souls; also the customary present must be sent to the king and his august permission to enter awaited, although no man knew where he was since the capital had been burned. Mungongo waxed furious. He informed them that Moonspirit was a friend of the Son-of-the-Snake, and moreover had before been in the country; that if they vexed Moonspirit he would enchant the whole village so that no man could move hand or foot. No matter, said they, that was the rule and must be done. They were impressed but obstinate.

From the description of this destroying god, who was the colour of a stripped banana and tall as a palm tree, had fire in his mouth and eyes upon his hands—it was some time before he could recognise the "eyes"—and whose companions were devils strangely clothed, dragging horrific monsters who spat earthquakes, Birnier had no difficulty in recognising zu Pfeiffer, and recollected the significant pumping at dinner regarding the Wongolo country. However he had renounced any idea of revenge, but the discovery of friend zu Pfeiffer as the terrifying god amused him: quickened a desire to overset the gentleman's plans. He smiled with a slight hardening of the line about his mouth as he began to consider what might be done.

As far as he could estimate by recalling the size of the native barracks at Fort Ingonya, he reckoned that zu Pfeiffer could not possibly have more than three hundred men, unless he had been reinforced from the east. Roughly he calculated that the Wongolo ought to be able to put about ten thousand warriors in the field. That number under any sort of leadership, even though they were only armed with spears and swords, should wipe out the three hundred, in spite of the discipline and two or three machine-guns, by sheer weight of numbers. But, from what he had already heard, zu Pfeiffer had evidently caught them unprepared, wiped out a mass and secured a supernatural effect by destroying the idol. He remembered his talk on das Volkliches and his comment that zu Pfeiffer was unusually well informed upon the psychology of the native mind.

During two days disputing in the native manner news came in of fresh massacres, adding to the general terror. He sent for the headman and with him held a long shauri. The result was that the old fellow conceived the wonderful idea, already suggested by his lesser brethren, of enlisting the services of this white man, reputed to be a most marvellous magician, in their protection.

Then having had his wits sharpened by his own originality and a sheath knife, the headman promptly discovered that the ceremony of exorcism could not be performed because the local wizard had departed with every ounce of magic for the front. Still there were obstinate and fearful persons who wished that Birnier should send a message to the king and wait until he had the permission. Another two days were lost until this objection was overcome by certain presents of "bafta," destined for the king, being handed over to the village.

On the week's march across Wongolo, Mungongo triumphantly held spellbound audiences at every village through which they passed. As they neared the site of the City of the Snake, where they heard zu Pfeiffer was encamped, they encountered deserted villages. When they came upon the smouldering embers of one Birnier consented to turn aside from the regular trail in order to pass to the west of Kawa Kendi's where, so the natives said, were Zalu Zako and Bakahenzie.

Beyond a belt of forest was open rolling country. They came to a village of five huts where dwelt some herdsmen, although most of the cattle had been driven westwards. Mungongo, seeking at Birnier's suggestion for some one who had actually been present at the village when zu Pfeiffer attacked, discovered a young girl who had escaped. He brought the daughter of Bakala into the presence of Moonspirit still pathetically clutching the amulet which Marufa had sold her. But from Bakuma, who had fled to the forest at the first assault and afterwards to this herdsmen's village where the fact of the tabu would not yet have penetrated, Birnier could interpret little of value. Of the whereabouts of Zalu Zako she knew no more than the peasants. She remembered Infunyana, as he had been called on his previous visit to the City of the Snake, and to her it seemed that a god had descended from the blue sky personally to aid her. So utterly incomprehensible and terrifying had the attack appeared that unconsciously the inevitability of her doom was shaken; if such things could happen, she felt rather than thought, then who could say what else was possible? She asked permission to travel with Moonspirit. Birnier, who knew from her dress, or lack of it, that she was unmarried, smiled as he wondered whether she was seeking her lover.

Throughout their journey they had not met a single warrior; but as they neared the place of the king they began to meet groups of them. At the sight of the first headdress Bakuma bolted into the grass, nor did she reappear until after they had gone. Later she came to Birnier and asked permission to hide within his tent when the warriors appeared, and to his question began to explain the fate to which she had been doomed. Naturally this account of the Marriage of the Bride of the Banana at the Harvest Festival was of value as well as of interest to Birnier, from whom it had been concealed when in the country before. He cross-questioned her and made notes; but Bakuma could give him practically no details of what actually happened, a secret well guarded by the craft.

They looked downcast, these warriors, and were doubtful what to do on meeting another white. Many had never before seen a white man and were inclined to bestow upon Moonspirit all the attributes which they had given to Eyes-in-the-hands. Eh! said they, Eyes-in-the-hands is a more powerful god than the Unmentionable One, for has he not eaten him up? Eyes-in-the-hands has imprisoned the thunder and the lightning in a bag which he looses at will. Who could withstand him? Had they better not submit before his wrath had eaten them all up? E-eh! man cannot fight with a god, as any fool knows.

They were returning to their homes to make pilgrimage to the new god, to propitiate him with oxen and with ivory lest worse befall. However they knew where Zalu Zako was hidden, also the wizards whose magic was as a drop of water in a fire. Mungongo did not fail to relate the marvels of Moonspirit which he had seen with his own eyes, he and those with him. The warriors listened without being in the least impressed. That, said they, was merely woman's magic to what Eyes-in-the-hands could do! Aie-e! had not they fallen dead in masses at the cough of one of his monster spirits! Aie-e! had not the look of him burned up the Unmentionable One as a straw in a fire! Therefore was he not greater than the god? Aie-e! was he not burning their villages at will! Aie-e, brothers, they must hasten to appease the wrath of so terrible a god!

Birnier saw that it was useless to attempt to argue with them. Zu Pfeiffer, with his shrewd stroke at the kernel of their faith in the symbol of the idol, had established a kind of godhead; and by his ferocious massacres had thoroughly cowed them. However Birnier secured one man to guide him to where Zalu Zako, the witch-doctors and those who remained with him, were in hiding.

On the fringe of the dense forest they camped. The warrior guide went to acquaint Zalu Zako of their approach, else otherwise the sight of a white might provoke an attempt at massacre or flight. On the third day the man returned bearing greetings from Zalu Zako personally who remembered well Infunyana, the only white man whom he had ever met.

For two days, on a faint trail, in a steamy heat pulsing with chromatic birds and lizards, they journeyed through the forest, the skirts of the vast Ituri whose deepest recess is the home of the pygmy. One early forenoon they were halted by the warrior in apparently trackless jungle and bidden to camp. Mungongo was indignant, but protest was useless as the man refused to conduct them any farther, saying that Zalu Zako would come to them. So the carriers cut a circle and built a zareba and the messenger was swallowed by the green wall bearing presents of two rifles.



CHAPTER 14

About a mile from Birnier's camp, through forest so dense that even the progress of a native clambering from trunk to trunk and over undergrowth ten feet deep was slow and tortuous, was the temporary village of Zalu Zako; some six or seven hundred huts of branches and creepers straggling over a wide area of ground which had been roughly cleared from undergrowth by a few slaves and women.

The hut of Zalu Zako, as those of most of the bigger chiefs and wizards, was furnished with reeds upon the floor to avoid squatting actually in the green slime, and boasted a palisade run from tree to tree enclosing the huts of his two wives, women and slaves. Every morning the leader of a long line of slaves bringing supplies from the villages in the open, chanting softly the song of the march, entered the village through a mass of creepers which hung like a curtain of humid green. Many hundreds of warriors with their chiefs had deserted their king after the flight from Yagonyana's village.

In the mind of Zalu Zako was doubt and perplexity as in those of his people. All the accepted "laws" and "facts" of his world had been set at naught; it was as if buck lived in the rivers and fish ran roaring through the forests. Fear, curiosity, and resentment filled him. Sometimes it appeared that Eyes-in-the-hands had indeed proved to be a more powerful god than the Unmentionable One, of whom he was, or should have been, high priest and king; that he had eaten him up as they said; so perhaps the better course was to submit to this being invincible. Yet this very anarchy of his beliefs had released once more the passion for Bakuma whom he had renounced, the desire for whom had been inhibited by the sense of the inevitability of the mandate of the witch-doctors. Hereditary custom, which made him feel that it was incumbent upon him—a primitive sense of duty—to be king-god warred with this longing for Bakuma. The fact that he was not yet bound to celibacy quickened the seed of rebellion against the domination of the wizards. If he could escape the godhood then Bakuma was alive again. For to his mind a ban upon the personal ego was far stronger than any ban upon a second person.

Chewing the cud of this sweet grass of hope squatted Zalu Zako one morning in the dignified solitude of his compound on the threshold of his hut. Opposite him sat the brother conspirator of Bakahenzie, Marufa, a brown shadow in comparison to the gleaming of the royal insignia of the ivory bangles. They sat silent, motionless, save for the occasional sparse movement of snuff taking. In the steamy heat a continual mutter and rustle persisted, punctuated by the harsh scream of a green parrot or the squawks of a troop of monkeys. In the faintly spattered sunlight percolating through the bowered roof vivid lizards rivalled in colour the rare finger of an orchid clinging to the great tree beside the hut. Through the humid air came the faint chant of carriers at the end of a journey; swelled louder and ceased. At the mutter of greeting near by Marufa grunted.

"The beaten dog returns to nose in the garbage," he mumbled.

"Maybe he hath news of the doings," commented Zalu Zako after a pause.

"The young dog starts a buck in every tree stump," returned Marufa.

The mumble of voices in the hut of Yabolo near to Zalu Zako's continued. Neither Zalu Zako nor Marufa knew other than that, after his downfall, Sakamata had retired to his native village on the southern boundary where the people, being laymen, had believed the excuse for his absence given by Sakamata that he had retired to the forest for one moon in the guise of his totem, the wart hog, which animal became accordingly tabu to their killing for that period. At length came a young slave from Yabolo who, after saluting, delivered a message from Yabolo requesting that Zalu Zako receive him and his relative, Sakamata, who had weighty news for him.

Presently entered the recusant bearing signs of prosperity in the flowered print about his loins, the ancient cartridge pouch slung around his waist and a huge revolver of the pin-fire model dangling from a neck which appeared more tortoise-like than ever. Before Zalu Zako he squatted and after they had exchanged the usual hostages to hostility, Sakamata inquired most politely after the health of the Son-of-the-Snake, of his cattle and of his fortune, and last of all of his women. Sakamata, aware of the loss of prestige suffered by his old enemy, Bakahenzie, presented Zalu Zako with a duplicate of the pin-fire revolver. Followed an equally extensive greeting to Marufa. Only when these ceremonies had been punctiliously performed did they begin to discuss the news.

At first Sakamata proceeded to repeat the popular saying regarding the doings of Eyes-in-the-hands. Various chiefs had visited the fort of the white man bringing presents in their hands, terrified of what might happen, yet, according to Sakamata, their fears had been dispelled immediately; for the wise new god had received them as brothers and had made offerings to them as was the custom for strangers to do. It was true, he admitted in cross-examination, that whole villages had been put to the sword and burned; but, he demanded, was not that the way of a mighty warrior to those who resisted him?

Moreover, continued Sakamata, to fight him was death. His magic was such that no man could prevail against him. Had any doctor yet succeeded in making successful magic against the Invincible One? His magic was terrible to behold. Spirits which were imprisoned in houses of trees (boxes) spoke and sang according to their tribe.

"Clk!" commented Zalu Zako incredulously.

"These words are as the wind in the trees at night speaking to girls," commented Marufa slowly. "What man hath beheld those things with his own eyes?"

Deliberately Sakamata tapped snuff, inhaled it with relish, meticulously, that not one grain was lost upon his white caterpillar moustache, and said indifferently:

"Even he who sits before you."

"Eh!"

Another point was scored. But both Zalu Zako and Marufa regarded him as one who, having had dealings with the devil and yet had emerged safely, was to be suspected of some ghastly pact. After a calculated pause Sakamata continued nonchalantly:

"There is no magic like unto Eyes-in-the-hands, the Mighty One. A great fort hath he made upon the hill of thy grandfather (MFunya MPopo), O Zalu Zako, girded with a great palisade, around which walk ever the red devils in uniform, each one of whom hath a gun with seven voices. And peering through that palisade, like a terrible black leopard from his lair, are the monster coughing devils. Eh! who are they who can withstand them?"

"Eh!" echoed his audience with lively memories of the "coughing devils."

"And he hath a mighty hut made from the white man's cloth of colour like to the forest full of things to make magic. Seated upon his chair like unto a man plucking bananas, the eyes upon his hands and in his head gleam so fiercely that water is made within a man. He who dares to look sees not only Eyes-in-the-hands, but his two souls, even as thou seest thine own two souls staring at thee with the frightened eyes that are thine!"

"Ehh!"

This time a genuine belly grunt was elicited, and even Marufa moved uneasily.

"Thou hast been bewitched," he added to mask his astonishment. "For a man may see his own soul in any pool, but never two souls!"

"Even is it as I have told thee, O son of MTungo," asserted Sakamata.

Sakamata discovered the use of snuff again to be necessary. He watched covertly the repressed excitement in the eyes of Zalu Zako.

"And what said the great magician unto thee?" Marufa demanded to cover his discomfort.

"He spoke white words as a warrior should," said Sakamata. "He gave words which told me that he was but a small wizard. He made my eyes to see the soul of a greater god than he, who was there and yet was not there; for at the touch of his magic hand with many eyes, behold! there were two more souls of the god which returned even as I looked."

"Ehh! A greater god than he?" demanded Zalu Zako, with a flicker of the white of his eyes.

"Even as I have said, a greater god who is king of all the white man's countries in the sea, who eats up those whom he pleases. Yet, even though he may bewitch with one of his eyes, did he speak softly to Yagombi, the son of Bagazaan, and Zalayan, the son of Kilmanyana, who were with me, bidding us to tell our brethren that if they would not acknowledge the true king that then he would eat us up, even as he ate up the Unmentionable One. But to those who would submit and make due tribute, would he protect in peace from the white men who, fleeing from the wrath of the great god, would soon come to eat up our country like the locusts."

"Eh! ehh! white men as the locusts!"

"Thus he spoke and bade us to go forth and tell our brethren."

This was a wholly new notion and proportionally serious if true. But Marufa, recovering from the first shock, wrapped himself in his professional cloak of omniscient indifference as he recollected that Sakamata was an unfrocked priest of the craft. The group took snuff sternly until Sakamata, having accomplished his mission, deemed it wise to retire to allow the suggestive ideas to germinate. So gravely he arose and departed from the hut of Zalu Zako and went under the patronage of Yabolo to another compound where, to a group of the most disaffected chiefs, including MYalu, he repeated nearly word for word the same harangue.

In the minds of Zalu Zako and Marufa the report of Sakamata had been exceedingly disquieting. Marufa began to wonder whether he had not better make terms with the new god before worse came to the worst in the form of white men like locusts, a menace fraught with dire possibilities which were based upon the rumours which every native had heard of the ways of white men in bulk: to the Wongolo merely vague stories from the north of the conquest of the Sudan by the British. Marufa's ambitions in the craft were almost submerged in the dread that, wizard though he was, he would have small chance of distinction and power among a race of wizards. To Zalu Zako, although the prospect of unlimited white men swooping upon them was terrifying, his semi-conscious mind was rather occupied with Bakuma than with affairs of state which seemed merely to exist to torment lovers. However he, too, was sufficiently impressed to consider seriously the advisability of submitting before it was too late; the motivating principle of the scheme was an idea which suggested that, in some indefinable way, such action might lead to the avoidance of the ban of godhood and thus to the reinstatement of Bakuma in the realm of possibilities.

To Bakahenzie the report was more alarming than to the others, inasmuch as it appeared to portend the irretrievable loss of his power. He saw the effect upon their minds, the inclination to yield to the new conqueror, which, of course, would mean the last of his followers being swept away in the crowd like dry leaves in the wind. But more than the others he suspected the motives of Sakamata, the man whom he had unfrocked. Arguing in terms of his own mental processes he saw correctly enough that Sakamata was surely playing for himself, and guessed equally truly that Sakamata would get, or imagined that he would get, many rewards, political as well as in kind, for his services as jackal to the white man. But he listened and said no word for, or against, him. He was astute enough never to make a move until he had, or thought that he had, all the moves of the game worked out. Marufa was just as wily; he related the news given by Sakamata in a voice which gave no hint by tone or word what any of his opinions might be. Then, as they sat like graven images, supremely indifferent to the doings of Sakamata or aught else, entered the warrior bearing greetings from Birnier to Zalu Zako.

Immediately Zalu Zako, to whose less skilled mind in intrigue this succession of world-shaking events was bewildering, feared that already the plague of white men like locusts had commenced. But when he learned that the white man was alone and was Infunyana, the only white man whom he had ever met, he perceived vaguely some remote prospect of achieving his desires. Almost eagerly, for a native, he commanded the messenger to summon the white man to his presence.

To Bakahenzie the unexpected arrival of another white was an unforeseen potentiality of force which might be utilized to his own benefit; so thought Marufa, which was in effect exactly the same reaction as Zalu Zako's. Therefore Bakahenzie immediately protested upon the ground that no stranger could be allowed to approach the Son-of-the-Snake, or even the village, who had not been purified according to custom. When Zalu Zako demurred he retorted:

"Hath not one white man who was permitted to enter our country without the demon being exorcised wreaked disaster upon us? Wouldst thou then destroy us utterly?"

Zalu Zako was silent. Much as he would have desired to browbeat Bakahenzie, much as his confidence in the powers of the chief witch-doctor had waned in his estimation, yet there remained sufficient to overawe him when the matter was put to a crucial test. Bakahenzie would, so he stated, go himself to see the new white man, thus unselfishly taking upon his person the whole risk of the lasting magic of a stranger unpurified. But Marufa had no intention of allowing Bakahenzie to obtain a monopoly of this possible new ally. Unlike Zalu Zako he was not burdened with awe and had confidence in his own magic to overcome any evil that Bakahenzie might seek to work against him. So when he announced that he would accompany Bakahenzie, that distressed wizard was too conscious of his dwindling prestige to object.



CHAPTER 15

Just after sun-up next morning as Birnier was seated at the door of his tent reading his Melancholy and drinking his coffee, a startled "clk" caused him to glance round. He saw Bakuma rise suddenly from the fire and disappear. The next moment materialized out of the miasma of the morning the figures of Bakahenzie and Marufa, followed by a file of warriors.

Portentously Bakahenzie stalked to the fire and squatted down without even a murmur to Mungongo busy with the breakfast. Bakahenzie remembered Infunyana very well, but nevertheless designedly Birnier ignored him in return. So they sat, the two wizards taking snuff with grave concern almost at the feet of the white who continued to smoke and to read.

The sign boded ill, for the insistence upon the punctilious etiquette inferred that Bakahenzie was disposed to be suspicious, if not directly hostile. And indeed the warriors' description of the magic of Moonspirit, vide Mungongo, had made Bakahenzie uneasy.

After a full half-hour Bakahenzie, as if beaten in this solemn game, turned gravely and saluted the white. Birnier looked down from his chair with the affectation of just having noticed that some one was there. After a pause he returned the greeting, a little point which Bakahenzie thoroughly appreciated. Birnier had learned that according to Mungongo and the warrior, Zalu Zako had not yet been anointed king-god; therefore that Bakahenzie evidently intended to keep the young man in the background.

After preliminaries, Birnier inquired after Zalu Zako and informed Bakahenzie that he had journeyed expressly to see him. Bakahenzie ignored the question and began to talk about Eyes-in-the-hands, demanding to know whether Birnier was his brother.

"Nay," said Birnier, "Eyes-in-the-hands is not of the same tribe as Moonspirit," for he sedulously followed up the title which Mungongo had given him. "Eyes-in-the-hands comes from a country twelve moons distant from my country."

Marufa squatting beside him grunted; Bakahenzie took snuff nonchalantly as if he did not believe a word.

"Eyes-in-the-hands is a mighty magician in his own country," said Bakahenzie in the form of an assertion.

"The magic of Eyes-in-the-hands to the magic of Moonspirit," stated Birnier, "is as water to the beer of the banana."

"Eyes-in-the-hands," remarked Bakahenzie indifferently, "hath magic to make the souls of man to be seen by all."

"Those are but the souls of the belly and body, but Moonspirit can enchant so that the spirit of the head of man be seen at night," boasted Birnier, wondering what trick of zu Pfeiffer's had produced the effect.

"Eyes-in-the-hands," insisted Bakahenzie, "hath a spirit in a piece of a tree which cries or laughs, sings or talks to his magic."

"Moonspirit," retorted Birnier (thinking "Gramophone, but I can go one better, my friend"), "hath also a spirit in a piece of tree who will speak words of wisdom unto thee in thine own tongue, who will repeat that which is said unto him in thy tongue or in my tongue, who will speak words of wisdom even unto thee."

Bakahenzie seemed outmatched in the boasting tournament. He tapped snuff woodenly. Marufa scratched his skinny ribs thoughtfully. Then Bakahenzie remarked:

"He that hath not been cleansed may not look upon the Son-of-the-Snake."

"He that hath not been anointed need have no fear of the evil eye."

"Hath not one who was not cleansed entered and cast evil upon the tribe?" demanded Bakahenzie.

"If the fence is not strong the leopard will enter."

"If the leopard be not strong and swift indeed may he not be killed in the hut?" inquired Bakahenzie.

"If a leopard and a wild-cat break in, then wilt thou not kill the leopard first?"

"Even so," retorted Bakahenzie; "then is water stronger than beer, even as the beer does reveal?"

Birnier nearly smiled in recognition of the hit.

"Nay, does not beer make the fool to talk foolishness? Dost thou then cast away the banana? Does not one talk foolishness also who is sick and yet discardeth good medicine, because he feareth to poison his belly?"

"Even so," said Bakahenzie obstinately, "does the sick man exorcise the good medicine lest an enemy hath made magic thereupon?"

"Then," said Birnier, whose only objection to the ceremony was the delay and the messiness, "let the good medicine be purified."

Bakahenzie grunted and covertly took stock of the tent and equipment visible. Upon the pile of cases stacked just inside the tent his eyes rested some time, but he would not make any inquiry. Marufa, too, was occupied in the same manner. Bakahenzie was recalling the previous meeting with Birnier in the village of MFunya MPopo—of that day when Birnier had not made any attempt to impress the native mind with "magic" other than the ordinary "miracles" in the routine of a white man's life.

"When the Son-of-the-Snake," inquired Birnier, who had learned as much of the hagiocracy as Mungongo knew, "hath taken up the Burden, wilt thou then drive Eyes-in-the-hands from the country?"

Bakahenzie slowly withdrew his eyes from the fascinating case as far as Birnier's booted foot.

"Hast thou, white man, the magic twig that makes fire?" he demanded.

"Even so."

Birnier took a box of matches from his pocket and struck one. Bakahenzie and Marufa watched him solemnly. Then a lean bronze hand was outstretched. Birnier gave him the box. Slowly and gravely Bakahenzie, the chief witch-doctor, extracted a match, turned it over and over, smelt it, tasted it, regarded it, and struck it on the top of the box. It was a safety match, so nothing happened. Birnier, without a vestige of a smile, instructed him to strike it only upon the black piece at the side. That impressed Bakahenzie and Marufa. The former tried again as directed and succeeded. Holding the match too near the head he burned the quick of the nail, but not a muscle quivered. He would not even admit that the white man's devil stick had bitten him. But he was still more impressed.

At a sign from Birnier, Mungongo brought from the tent a nickel-plated revolver and cartridges, which he placed at the feet of Bakahenzie without comment. Apparently Bakahenzie did not notice the action or the gift. He held out the matches to return to the white man. Birnier requested him to keep them. He wrapped up the box in his loin-cloth and fell to further contemplation of the cases. He was cogitating. The value of this white had suddenly increased. Evidently he could make small magic. Perhaps he could make as much big magic as Eyes-in-the-hands. Who knew? But then if that was so he could make greater magic than he, Bakahenzie, could. Bakahenzie saw that if Moonspirit were such a great magician he would be difficult or impossible to control. Naturally Bakahenzie could only understand his own motives in others. His problem now was to discover some means by which he could control Moonspirit, make of him a familiar to work to his own ends. Why was he so insistent upon seeing Zalu Zako? Bakahenzie became more and more suspicious. He saw another reason why the white man must be kept away from Zalu Zako. To refuse to purify him would give a valid excuse that he may not look upon the Son-of-the-Snake. But he did not wish to displease him; also Marufa could perform the purification.

Again Birnier repeated the question regarding the overthrow of Eyes-in-the-hands. Bakahenzie took snuff, regarded the revolver lying at his feet idly, and deigned to reply.

"When that which must be hath come to pass, then shall the children of the Snake eat up their enemies as a lizard eats flies."

"And what is that which must come to pass?"

Bakahenzie sat silent awhile, slightly shocked at the directness of the question; then as if to humour the white man, he replied:

"When the Bridegroom hath taken the Bride."

The ceremony of purification could not take place until the following day, because such things may not be hurried; and moreover, various potent charms had to be sent for to the native village. Meanwhile Bakahenzie squatted by the fire, contemplating the nickel-plated revolver and affairs of policy, and opposite him sat the meditative Marufa.

From the hour of the monkey, Bakahenzie, unconscious of the small face and anxious eyes watching the camp from the tangle of green, was busy muttering spells over a calabash containing a magic concoction composed of the entrails of a white goat, certain herbs and the eyes of a black wild-cat. When the roof of the forest was a patterned ceiling against an incandescent glow, Birnier stripped to the waist, and submitted himself to the hands of the wizard who, after scattering the feathers of a scarlet parrot into the calabash, smeared the left breast, the forehead and the right arm of the white man, to the accompaniment of an incantation. These insignia and specifics he must not remove for three suns; nor could he be permitted to look upon the semi-divine Zalu Zako until whatever evil influence his foreign body might possess should have been exorcised by this powerful medicine.

To sit around half nude in such heat was no arduous undertaking, but to sleep without rubbing off the concoction was another matter; also the odour thereof was not pleasing to the nostrils of a white man. But Birnier accomplished the feat by smoking excessively and by marking with a pencil the various nostrums recommended by the amiable Burton, many of which were hardly less disagreeable than Doctor Bakahenzie's prescription.

That worthy's slaves had erected a hut for him nigh to the tent in the door of which he squatted, usually with Marufa beside him, throughout the day, with ever a contemplative eye upon his victim, an eye which Birnier was sure was eagerly seeking some excuse to plead that he had inadvertently rendered the magic impotent, and must accordingly have the ceremony repeated.

Amused by the ridiculous sight he presented, plastered over with this filth, Birnier made Mungongo, whom he had taught to operate a camera, take a photograph of him, which would entertain Lucille, as well as be of scientific interest. Bakahenzie and Marufa watched this performance from the fire with amazement, for they imagined that the camera was some kind of gun. When they heard the click, they grunted as if expecting the white man to fall dead. Birnier of course knew the universal native belief in the picture being the soul, or one of the souls. He summoned Bakahenzie and Marufa and showed them a photograph which, after some difficulty, they recognised as Mungongo.

"Eh," grunted a warrior, "indeed is Mungongo the slave of the white man, for hath he not imprisoned his soul?"

Mungongo laughed, yet he believed in the superstition as implicitly as any of his compatriots, for said he:

"It is a wise man who hath that which is his always within his hand, even as Moonspirit hath the soul of his favourite wife with him always, so that she may not be unfaithful unto him."

"Eh, he is wiser than the Banana Eater!" grunted the warrior in admiration.

Birnier's training to control his features was strained in the effort not to express surprise. He could not imagine from what Mungongo had derived this astonishing statement, until he recollected that the boy had seen a photograph of Lucille among his papers.

After this successful demonstration of his sophistication, Mungongo was anxious that Moonspirit give an exhibition of his magic to dumbfound the chief witch-doctor, desiring most ardently to work the gramophone, to operate which he had also learned. But on reflection, Birnier decided that it was not his policy to make his thunder too cheap.

Each evening as the last subtle violet quivered in the trees had Bakuma glided from the shelter of the undergrowth under the flap of Birnier's tent, where she had lain until the first tint of dawn on the foliage of the forest. Birnier had wished her to leave for some village until Bakahenzie had left the camp, but Bakuma had frantically pleaded to remain, knowing that the craft was seeking her throughout the country since Bakahenzie's latest interview with mighty Tarum.

But upon the third day as Birnier was seated reading philosophically at his tent door, the inevitable happened. A loud outcry arose and from the tangle of creepers started the lithe figure of Bakuma, who darted past him into the tent. For a moment there was silence. But Birnier guessed what the matter was. Bakahenzie emerged from the wall of green and cried out in a loud voice. Instantly the warriors around leaped to their feet, and broke out into great clamour.

Mungongo, busy with the cooking pots, rushed to Birnier's side, gesticulating wildly. Inside the tent crouched Bakuma. Towards Birnier advanced Bakahenzie and the warriors, whose dilated eyes and spears in their hands betokened that Bakahenzie had stirred their deepest feelings of terror and murder. Birnier smoked placidly, neither stirring nor permitting a sign of their presence to cross his features.

Mungongo, startled out of his confidence in Moonspirit, excitedly bade Bakuma go forth as Bakahenzie, stopping in front of the white man, broke into a harangue, bidding him to give up Bakuma whose sacrilege in breaking the magic circle, as he had said, had brought the terrible Eyes-in-the-hands upon them; that the welfare of the tribe depended upon her sacrifice to the angered Unmentionable One even as she had been doomed; and threatening that they would take the insolent white man, whose magic was as water, and sacrifice him as well, as was desired by the spirit of Tarum.

The longer he spoke the more excited he grew. Motivated by the sudden conviction that the sacrifice of Bakuma, whose action he had foretold so successfully, and the slaughter of the white would really restore to him his repute and remove at the same time the problem of controlling a superior magician who threatened to become his rival, Bakahenzie began to work himself up into the necessary state of prophetic hysteria. Cowering against the camp-bed Bakuma whimpered with terror; Mungongo incoherently begged Moonspirit to give up the girl.

Not a muscle moved upon Birnier's face; nor even did his eyes turn in the direction of the menacing crowd who with uplifted spears joggled each other around Bakahenzie. Birnier knew that it was a supreme test of nerve; knew that any attempt to snatch a rifle or a movement of any sort, would precipitate action on their side. He had no intention of surrendering the girl to a hideous fate, and also he saw beyond the incident that if Bakahenzie were to triumph over him now, not only would his prestige with the natives be gone for ever, but that his fate would be surely sealed. Slowly, exaggeratedly, as if he were alone, he killed a mosquito upon his bare right breast and lighted his pipe anew.

Bakahenzie advanced a step followed by the warriors. His voice had reached the falsetto timbre. Mungongo lost his head entirely and seizing Bakuma, began to drag her out of the tent. Birnier turned his head leisurely towards him. Said he very loudly:

"It is not seemly to rape a woman in my presence, O Mungongo. Let her be, for I will buy thee one."

Mungongo ceased to pull at Bakuma's arms and stared as if paralysed. Birnier saw the eyes switch in a terrified glance at the warriors behind him and heard Bakahenzie's yell to kill.

For one moment he thought that indeed the end had come. Before he could reach the rifle a dozen spears would be in his back. He sat motionless, the Anatomy of Melancholy still in his hand, and watched the gauge of Mungongo's eyes. Bakahenzie's voice rose to a screech. Suddenly Birnier wheeled round in his chair, snatched up the pencil and staring hard at them, began to sketch faces on the open page of the book.

At the sight the warriors ceased their shuffling dance, were arrested with the spears in their hands in as many poses. Bakahenzie's scream was stoppered as if by a hand upon his mouth. In the silence their heavy breathing rivalled the twitter and hum of the forest. Birnier sketched furiously, glaring portentously from the group to the paper. Bakahenzie took a step forward, a nervous step, and yelled, "Kill!" but his voice released those of the warriors. In one loud shout they cried:

"He bewitches us! He bewitches us!"

As Birnier bent his head to make another magic mark upon the magic book he heard the rush of feet.

"They have fled!" squealed Mungongo, still clutching Bakuma.

Birnier sighed and dropped his pencil as he glanced up. Bakahenzie and the warriors had disappeared, but by the fire squatted Marufa unconcernedly scratching his skinny ribs.



CHAPTER 16

Changed was the City of the Snake, the place of kings. Upon the site where had been the hive of huts wrapped in the green arms of the banana plantation, laboured under the incandescent sun gangs of prisoners under armed guards upon the building of larger huts laid out in streets, broad and geometrical, lined with correct ditches for drainage. Around the outskirts here and there remained charred posts.

Upon the hill of MKoffo was a palisade enclosing the barracks of two companies of the askaris and two guns. No brown cones peeped like candle-snuffers above the sea of green fronds upon the hills of the tombs of kings, but from the sacred hill of Kawa Kendi commanding the approach to the valley rose, black against the sky, the triangle of the roof frame of a large bungalow; around the crown of the hill was a stout palisade through which grinned in the sun the muzzles of a Nordenfeldt and a pom-pom; and outside upon a levee strutted rigidly four sentries night and day, a perpetual reminder to the passer-by below of efficient vigilance.

Within was a methodical formation of round huts dominated by a square one; at the far end, and in solitary grandeur beneath the Imperial flag upon a roughly-hewn flag-pole, was a green marquee tent, the temporary quarters of the Kommandant.

Under the tent verandah at the rear where were his private quarters sat zu Pfeiffer with a towel tucked around his neck upon which was scattered inch-lengths of hair. Sergeant Schultz sheared deftly with clippers like a reaper in a field of corn. When he had completed the final trimming behind the ears, he stood aside with the air of an artist viewing his work.

"Is that pleasing to your Excellence?"

Zu Pfeiffer ran a hand around his skull.

"Ya, that is better and cooler, sergeant."

With a professional air Schultz whisked around the Kommandant's neck with a light brush, untucked the towel and brushed him down. As zu Pfeiffer rose Bakunjala appeared with a broom of small branches and a pan and proceeded to sweep the earthen floor. Schultz neatly folded up the towel, placed it on the chair, and stood at attention.

"Is that all, Excellence?"

"Ya, sergeant. Take a cigar."

"Thank you, Excellence!"

The sergeant selected one, saluted and departed. Zu Pfeiffer lounged in a basket chair. The usual water bag and syphon were suspended at his elbow above sparklet and brandy bottles, and a box of cigars. Around him on the floor was a litter of papers, envelopes and documents. On his wrist sparkled the jewelled bracelet and between fingers, one of which bore the large diamond which had earned him his native name, was an official document bearing the Imperial Eagles.

As he read he smiled and patted his left moustache approvingly. Officially the authorities would not comply with his request made before leaving Ingonya for two more companies of askaris with white non-commissioned officers and two more guns; but unofficially he was informed that they would be supplied later and that the authorities were pleased. He picked up a private letter and re-read it. Then he smiled again, a sneering twist remaining at the corner of the mouth. Always he was informed by sympathetic friends and an agency of the whereabouts and doings of Lucille. On the 1st of August she had been due at Wiesbaden.

He threw the letter on the table with an irritable gesture and scowled as he drank. The arrival of the mail always brought vivid regrets for the glories and comforts he was missing by being condemned to war with "dirty swines of niggers." That was part of the penalty he had had to pay for being a gentleman in a land of dollar grubbers, yet a matter to be written up against the account of Lucille, the entzueckend Lucille. He must have been verrueckt, he reflected savagely. The delicate lips softened in ludicrous contrast to the brutal outline of a cropped skull. The blare of a trumpet disturbed his reveries, reveries which were apt to rankle until among his satellites went the word that the Eater-of-men was possessed by the demon once more.

After he had elegantly finished a small cup of cafe cognac and a cigarette, Sergeant Schultz strutted up, saluted, and at a nod from zu Pfeiffer handed a document to the Kommandant, a roster of the chiefs who had submitted with the approximate number of their followers. Officially there were five chiefs with some six thousand men who had nominally accepted the new ruler, each one of whom had to leave as hostage for his fidelity a son, who lived under guard in the village beneath the guns.

Zu Pfeiffer needed the extra companies and white men to establish stations at various points with the object of gradually extending the sphere of military occupation. Zu Pfeiffer left nothing, as far as he could foresee, to chance; his maxim was to conserve his force to the utmost, to attain his objective at the least possible cost in men and material. The policy of terrorisation was based on the reasoning that eventually schrecklichkeit saved both the conqueror and the conquered bloodshed and trouble; for if the enemy were not so impressed with the fact that all resistance was utterly useless, he would resort to the sporadic risings which would entail more slaughter on both sides. Zu Pfeiffer, acting on the teachings of the German masters, sought to make war psychologically as well as militarily, economically as well as geographically. Hence his dramatic step in the overthrow of the idol in person, and the care with which he planned to impress each chief and native with his omnipotence and magic. This system of the application of political science as well as of military science, of course, was sound, save for a temperamental error: the lack of sufficient imagination to realize the unknown quantity of chance, the inevitable mistake of military scientists who are loath to admit the artist to their counsels, exemplified by men of genius, such as Napoleon and Leonardo da Vinci, who were both mathematicians and artists.

In zu Pfeiffer's case, as in others of his type, the motivating principle was not bourgeois greed of material gain for himself; gain he could afford to despise in his wealth; such would have been contrary to the code of a gentleman. While he had not hesitated for a moment to destroy his rival, Birnier, he would not touch with one finger any of his goods; for that reason had he given permission to the corporal to take Birnier's equipment, so that he would not even be contaminated by the possession of them, a temperamental error again which had led to Birnier's escape.

The driving power in his caste and tribe was love of power to an excess masked with portentous solemnity under the cloak of benefiting this people and the peoples of the world; forcing them to have broad streets and sanitary arrangements, compelling them to laugh, to sing, and to be happy whether they would or no: an urge which is the curse of the world, the impulse to interfere in other folk's affairs, to teach them, to make them to know the true God, the right way of living, the right way of doing everything from the rising of the first sun of consciousness to that happy crack of doom when our planet tries to enforce its orbit upon some other planet.

Zu Pfeiffer pinched a cigar tip, lighted it meticulously and considered the roster.

"Sergeant, this man—what's the animal's name? Kalomato—has his son surrendered himself?"

"No, Excellence. The man says that he has fled the country."

"Where does he come from?"

"The neighbourhood, Excellence."

"That means that his son is with the rebels?"

"Probably not, Excellence. He is very young, they say."

"That does not matter. Sequester all the chief's property. If he won't give it up let the askaris deal with him. If that doesn't work, have him shot."

"Excellence!"

For such obstinate cases zu Pfeiffer had fallen upon the custom of serving two purposes by handing over the victim to the mercies of his askaris which whetted their sadistic appetites and usually secured the desired revelation of the whereabouts of the hidden ivory or other goods under the torture of the burning feet, and divers other ingenious methods. Of late this practice had proved so satisfactory that the mere threat was usually sufficient.

"This man," continued zu Pfeiffer tapping the roster with his long nail, "his son is here?"

"Ja, Excellence."

"Has he paid the tithe due?"

"No, Excellence. He refuses."

"Have the son shot."

"Excellence!"

"Any report this morning?"

"Ja, Excellence. A Wamungo spy brings news that a white man entered the country from the south."

"Description?"

"They say he is a trader, Excellence, coming from the Kivu direction, but the savage cannot give any satisfactory description. It is the first white he has seen, he says."

"He won't be the last!" snapped zu Pfeiffer with a twitch of the left sentry moustache. "Saunders, possibly. If so he should be here shortly to report. Well?"

"The King and the few men left with him are in hiding, Excellence, in dense forest. They are demoralized and quarrel among themselves. Many are coming to surrender, for they say that you, Excellence, have eaten their god."

"Ach!" said zu Pfeiffer with satisfaction. "What did I tell you, sergeant?"

"Your Excellence was correct in every respect."

"Um! Pity I can't spare a company. That would settle them before they have a chance to reorganize. Ach, but they haven't the sense, the animals, to do that.… Parade, sergeant."

Schultz saluted.

"Ready, Excellence."

Zu Pfeiffer rose, took up his gold-mounted sjambok, and the two walked around the big marquee to the front where between the orderly lines of huts those askaris not on duty were drawn up for inspection. The sergeant barked. Bayonets flashed as they presented arms. Another bark and they ported arms. Zu Pfeiffer walked down the line inspecting buttons, bolts, and rifles as meticulously as he had lighted his cigar. The fifteenth barrel he thrust away petulantly and flicked the askari's face with his sjambok. The muscles of the man's face twitched as the blow came and the eyes bulged, but he did not flinch.

"Twenty-five, sergeant!"

"Excellence!"

Zu Pfeiffer passed on. When the inspection was finished he stood rigidly smoking, coldly watching Schultz dismiss the men. Then he stalked down the hill with Schultz slightly in the rear, followed by a big black Munyamwezi sergeant-major, towards the opposite hill, of MKoffo. But at the bottom of where there were some half-constructed huts he paused.

"The women, sergeant?"

"The large hut, Excellence. Two hundred as ordered."

"No women of chiefs?"

"No, Excellence. Those attending on the hostages are housed apart."

Zu Pfeiffer strode towards the hut indicated which stood near to the edge of a rased banana plantation. Two sentries without the fence presented arms stiffly and remained immobile. Within the compound were some sixty or more young girls, mostly having the black complexion of the slave type. The chattering and giggling ceased as the tall form of the dreaded Eyes-in-the-hands stood in the gate. A slight smile flirted his lips.

From the deep violet of the hut interior darted a young girl into the sunlight. At the sight of the white men she poised on her toes, one foot forward and hands extended as if about to whirl into a dance, staring with the curiosity of a fawn.

Tall for a native maid, the light bronze of her immature breasts revealed that she was of the Wongolo ruling caste. Around her slender neck was a circlet of bright blue beads. As zu Pfeiffer stiffened and stared she wheeled and fled into the hut.

"Gott im Himmel!" he muttered. "The body of Lucille in Carmen!"

"Who is that woman?" he demanded of Schultz.

"I don't know, Excellence," replied the sergeant and spoke to the black sergeant-major. "She is the daughter of the chief Bamana, Excellence, visiting these other women. I will have her removed."

"I will not have the sense of caste abused," said zu Pfeiffer, gazing into the hut. "That is not policy. Have her sent to the fort, sergeant, and placed under guard."

"Excellence!"

Zu Pfeiffer swung on his heels and strode out and up the hill of MKoffo. The inspection was more hurried than usual that day. Then he returned to the hill of Kawa Kendi to hold court in the big marquee tent. After a lunch and a long siesta in the heat of the noonday he strolled around the village superintending the rasing of huts and the staking out of the new village which was to rise upon the ashes of the old one, a concrete example of the wisdom and power of the new lord, Eyes-in-the-hands.

Under squads of askaris gangs of prisoners, criminal and political, bound by a light chain about each neck, laboured at clearing away charred stumps and debris, while other natives portered in saplings and loads of grass, each village which had submitted sending its allotted quota.

Trumpets blared. The keepers of the coughing monsters made magical dances with their fire sticks up on the hill of Kawa Kendi. The black, white and red totem of the conqueror fluttered to earth like a wounded bird. Night closed like a black lid placed upon the steaming cauldron of the sun.

After dinner zu Pfeiffer sat in his private tent at the rear of the marquee drinking brandy. Upon a camp table covered by a violet cloth was the portrait in the ivory frame at which he gazed as he smoked. The blue eyes and the feminine lips softened as sentimentally as any sex-starved Puritan virgin; perhaps not in spite of, but because of, a mediaeval code as senseless as the native system of tabu, for natural emotions suppressed find an outlet in some form.

From outside came the twitter and hum of the forest, the rhythm of frogs, the dim bleating of a goat and the distant wailing of the women's death lament. Zu Pfeiffer drank and smoked and stared at the portrait in the ivory frame. Once he slapped irritably at a mosquito which had escaped the double net over the tent door. A wave of emotion seemed to well within him. He looked as if he were about to blubber as leaning over the table he peered intently at the pictured face and whispered:

"Nur einmal noch moecht ich dich sehen, Und sinken vor dir aufs Knie Und sterbend zu dir sprechen: 'Madam, ich liebe Sie!' …

"Lucille! … Ach, Lucille!"

He drew himself back with a jerk, drank his brandy at a gulp and called angrily:

"Bakunjala!"

The flutter of sand preceded a gasped:

"Bwana!"

Zu Pfeiffer gave him an irritable command. Four minutes elapsed during which he gazed steadily at the portrait. He turned at the slither of feet. Bright blue beads glittered in the lamplight as the daughter of Bamana sank upon her heels.



CHAPTER 17

In his favourite seat by the door of his hut sat Zalu Zako waiting as patiently as only a native can to see the white man, symbol of a subconscious hope. The fact that Bakuma had not been found by the emissaries of the bloodthirsty Bakahenzie evoked a sensation of pleasure which was expressed merely in a feeling of well-being. Of her in person he thought consciously little; his attitude was much as a white lover who might discover his loved one to be a sister, and hence, by consanguinity, barred from him for ever, a terrible fact of fate; but, lacking the sentimental inhibition, Zalu Zako did not disguise the death wish because she was denied him. Desires are simpler in the savage, yet the driving motives are the same as in the "cultured" ex-animal overlaid with generations of inhibitions—tabus—which form complex strata making the truth more and more difficult to recognise. From that very obfuscation of motives arises civilisation.

Then from the blue depths of the humid green came a great outcry, answered by the ululation of the women in warning.

"Eyes-in-the-hands!" grunted Zalu Zako, voicing the perpetual fear of the camp, as he leaped for his gun which Moonspirit had sent him.

Above the medley of sounds arose an articulate shout:

"He has bewitched our souls! He has bewitched our souls!"

Zalu Zako paused and listened; replaced the gun and squatted, resuming his pose of dignity before the first man made entrance. For a few moments the shrilling of the women and the wild jabber continued. Then entered a slave followed by a warrior who, excitedly falling upon his knees, gasped out:

"He hath bewitched our souls! He hath bewitched our souls! Our spears were blunted by his magic! Our swords were turned by the wall of his soul! He is a mighty magician!"

"Of whom speakest thou, fool?"

As Zalu Zako put the question the tall figure of Bakahenzie stalked slowly into the courtyard. The warrior rose and fled at a command from Zalu Zako. Bakahenzie greeted him gravely and very elaborately took snuff in order to show how casual the matter was. When he had meticulously restored the cork of twisted leaves, he announced slowly:

"As I have prophesied the breaking of the sacred circle has delivered us into the hands of the false magician, Eyes-in-the-hands. The daughter of Bakala is even now at the camp of the white man, whom they call Moonspirit."

"Ehh!" commented Zalu Zako.

"The brother of Eyes-in-the-hands hath taken her in concubinage," continued Bakahenzie.

Zalu Zako made no response. Grimly approached Marufa and squatted beside them.

"Even as I have prophesied," commented Marufa, who never failed to seize an opportunity of suggestion.

"I bade him render up the Bride of the Banana; but she hath bitten his soul in his sleep. He held her in his arms. He breathed upon her so that she would not obey. The magic of this brother of Eyes-in-the-hands hath indeed rotted the livers of our people, for they fled like young jackals."

"Eh!"

Zalu Zako stared cautiously at the compound fence; Marufa regarded Bakahenzie's left knee with interest. For fully five minutes no word was said. Then Bakahenzie portentously:

"Tarum demands the brother of Eyes-in-the-hands, this Moonspirit, for if one be taken then will the other, Eyes-in-the-hands, wither away and the Unmentionable One will be revealed."

"Thou hast spoken!" assented Marufa.

But Zalu Zako continued to stare blankly at the fence. His mind was aflame for Bakuma. Bakahenzie had no suspicion of his passion, yet the fear of his enmity acted like a douche of water in spite of the fact that the implicit faith in the doctors had been weakened. But disbelief was not positive enough to stimulate action. However, from the news of Bakuma's proximity, he had gotten strength to doubt the efficacy of Bakuma's sacrifice to restore the kingdom, a strength which prompted him to say:

"Who is he that has said that Moonspirit be the twin of Eyes-in-the-hands? Enemies there are even among whites. If he be an enemy of Eyes-in-the-hands and he be a great magician, as they say, then through his magic may not Eyes-in-the-hands be slain?"

"He hath but young words," asserted Bakahenzie stonily.

"But Mungongo, the son of Marula, saith that——"

"Dost thou ask an infant to teach thee to hunt?" retorted Bakahenzie.

"Doth a warrior ask his women to mend his wounds?" added Marufa, putting in a gentle reminder that Zalu Zako was merely a chief and not of the craft.

"He hath been exorcised, let him be brought and put to the test before me," persisted Zalu Zako.

"That may not be," objected Bakahenzie, "for thou art not yet anointed."

"But that which is necessary has not yet been done," objected Zalu Zako obstinately. "If he have no magic and his heart be not white, then let him be doomed for the Feast of the Moon." And gaining courage, added the royal phrase: "I have spoken."

The three sat motionless. The silence twittered and hummed. The shadows swelled. Bakahenzie rose slowly and stalked away through the compound. Zalu Zako watched his departure without remark or expression. After an interval, Marufa also went.

Another person upon whom the news of the discovery had had a similar reaction was MYalu. Her proximity released the primitive desire to go forth and seize her. But such action was arrested by fear of the consequences from his fellows to whom the tabu was still real, and of the white man, Moonspirit. MYalu could never overcome the fiat of the witch-doctors while he remained with them. Yonder—his decision to go with Yabolo and Sakamata was clinched, but—he would take Bakuma with him.

Straight to the hut of Bakahenzie, who seemed to be expecting him, stalked Marufa. Marufa squatted solemnly near to him. These catastrophic events had caused a general unrest which had weakened the discipline of superstition.

There are two types of magicians: those who are partially conscious hypocrites, and those who are gulled by their own fakes; for he who makes magic must be ever ready with an explanation of failure and very ingenious in the making. The fool, believing in his own medicine, is as much astounded at failure as the victim is angry. Bakahenzie and Marufa belonged to the first class; yet being of their particular mental development they were possessed of beliefs just as deeply as the most credulous layman. That the wizard, personally, of his own individual power could slay an enemy by incantation they did not believe; but that the spirit of the Banana or of other inanimate objects could do so, they believed most profoundly. Their creed was a form of pure animism; the storms, the winds, the lightning, trees, rocks, rivers had separate and conscious souls; other inanimate objects not included in an arbitrary list, had unconscious souls, each and every one capable of doing mischief or of good; hence the essence of religion in the act of imploring the good offices of the most powerful spirits, or in moments of exasperation of threatening them with dire punishments. Their hypocrisy lay not in disbelief but in pretending to the people that their intercession with the gods was infallible; they knew only too well that the said gods would seldom incline an ear to the magician.

Of course nearly every doctor had a slightly different dogma, usually based upon an incorrect deduction from a false premise. One doctor would place all his confidence in the spirit of the Banana—the most popular spirit; and another in the spirit of the river, because out of a dozen times that he had implored aid, five "miracles" at least had been vouchsafed, therefore, argued he, the spirit of the river is the true and most powerful god. The arguments of others were equally unsound as they were dominated by some hidden desire, much as reputable scientists, while rejecting phenomena accepted by the populace, cling fatuously to a belief in spooks in order to satisfy a subconscious desire for immortality, fear of death.

Hence the confusion in the heart of Bakahenzie. To him it appeared that the spirits had deserted him entirely; to him it seemed that perhaps these white men had indeed the true "magic," the art of controlling the spirits to their will. This terror had urged him to the destruction of the white man, Moonspirit. Now Zalu Zako had mutinied, and being unaware of the powerful impulse from which Zalu Zako had gotten this sudden strength, Bakahenzie attributed it to the magic influence of Moonspirit. At any cost, he argued, must Zalu Zako and the white man be kept apart.

But other pressing points were how to accomplish the slaughter of the white man, and what he should do now after the attempt to kill him had failed. Either Moonspirit would flee, which would be most happy proof to Bakahenzie that he was an impostor and no magician, or he would seek revenge immediately. No other action was conceivable to Bakahenzie. Therefore in such a case the obvious act was to strike the quicker. He contemplated his colleague without looking at him. What was his attitude? Bakahenzie, on general principles, was suspicious. If Marufa thought that by supporting the white man he might be able to attain Bakahenzie's overthrow and gain the position of chief witch-doctor, he would do it, even as he, Bakahenzie, would have done in his place. Therefore upon these matters did he talk very guardedly with Marufa, who was unusually reticent. However, after communing with himself in sphinx-like gravity, Marufa assented to the proposal that Zalu Zako be isolated in the godhood immediately.

So the slow rhythmic beat, which was the summons to the craft to assemble, throbbed in the clammy air. Before the humid shadows had lengthened a hand's breadth, were some twenty wizards, greater and lesser, fully dressed in the green feathers of the order, collected within the compound of Bakahenzie. Silently and woodenly they squatted in a half circle before the chief witch-doctor, each and every one excited by the marvellous stories circulated by the warriors returned from the camp of Moonspirit, stories which amply corroborated the tales of Mungongo. Those who supported Bakahenzie's party believed implicitly, because they wished so to do, the "reason" for the impotence of their united magic to be the breaking of the magic circle by Bakuma. But others who cherished personal ambitions for the head witch-doctorship were suspicious of each other and of Bakahenzie, each one according to his grade and consequent knowledge in the craft.

When the drum had ceased and they sat in impressive silence, Bakahenzie, squatting motionless on the threshold of his hut, began to mutter incantations and to rock from side to side. Now every one of the inner cult knew well enough that this performance was merely a ceremony prescribed by tradition and expediency; yet for that very reason and particularly for the benefit of the lesser wizards, they solemnly accepted it, grunting in chorus as heartily as the others to the chant of Bakahenzie. As suddenly as dramatically, Bakahenzie stopped with eyes staring upon another world and fell upon his back, to scream and to writhe realistically as practice assured him. Then when the mouth was flecked with foam, the spirit of Tarum spake through the rigid body which lay as in catalepsy with eyes inverted:

"Aie! Aie! I am the spirit of Kintu! Aie! Aie! I am he who first was! Aie! Aie! I am the banana from whom I was made! Aie! Aie! The time of the nuptial draweth nigh! Aie! Aie! But where is the bride of my bed? Aie! Aie! Let her be found and prepared! Aie! Aie! For my lips are athirst for her blood! Aie! Aie! Let the son of the Snake be anointed! Aie! Aie! Let him be ready to assist at my feast! Aie! Aie! I have spoken, I, the father of Men! Aie! Aie! I, Tarum, the soul of your ancestors!"

From the assembly came the low belly grunt of acceptance, for they were, by suggestion, infected with the induced hysteria almost as much as the superb actor himself; they believed; even the members of the inner cult were convinced for the moment that indeed the mighty spirit of their ancestors was speaking.

Slowly, with many prodigious grunts and twists, did Bakahenzie's soul return to his body. He sat up and after a long pause said impressively:

"What hath He said unto you?"

And Marufa, as solemnly, related all that He had said.

"Eh!" said Bakahenzie tonelessly, "it is even as I have prophesied. These indeed are the words of wisdom. Is it not so, O my brethren?" Again came the low grunt of assent. "Let us obey, that these foul spirits may pass and the Unmentionable One return unto his children!"

Then, according to custom, all save those of the inner cult arose and went forth silently. In the heart of Yabolo, as he squatted as expressionless as the others, was satisfaction, for he saw, or thought he saw, that Eyes-in-the-hands would be pleased with the destruction of a man who might possibly become his rival; and on that principle imagined himself introduced by his relative, Sakamata, to Eyes-in-the-hands as the slayer, or initiator of the slaying, of his rival, Moonspirit. That Zalu Zako should be anointed King-God suited him as well as the other wizards and for the same reason. Therefore Yabolo for once raised no objection to the behests of Bakahenzie.

Already from the encampment rose the excited voices of the warriors who had been informed of the decision of the assembly of wizards. But the shadows were long. The forest was even more thickly peopled with spirits than their own park-like country. One of the inner cult of five suggested that the attack be made at dawn; but Bakahenzie, still baited by uncertainty regarding the reality of the magic of Moonspirit and the possible influence of Zalu Zako now that he had apparently developed a will of his own before they could shut him up in the godhead, was for immediate action, and insisted that they call together the warriors and make special magic to protect them from the forest demons. Yabolo, as anxious as Bakahenzie, became his ally in urging that this be done. But Marufa was not at all of this way of thinking. While the fate of Zalu Zako was quite immaterial, his attitude to Moonspirit was much the same as the young man's, but prompted by a different motive; a power possible to utilize for his benefit. But he said no word, listening indifferently apparently to the throbbing of the drums summoning the warriors. When the inner circle broke up he stalked solemnly to his own hut, but when he was within he took from a gourd a special amulet, slipped through a hole in the palisade behind the hut, and disappeared into the forest.