“No, no! We have never seen anything like this! Yancig! Yancig!”
The eyes of all the warriors turned to the “hut,” in other words, to the palanquin.
And Kali, who in the course of the religious training he had received on Linde Mountain had been told that faith can move mountains, was quite convinced that the prayer of the white “Bibi” was all powerful with God, and so he continued to speak, as he thought truthfully, about the good Msimu.
“Listen! Listen! The good Msimu is riding on the elephant to that country in which the sun rises out of the water behind the mountains. There the good Msimu will tell the Great Spirit to send you clouds, and these clouds will, in seasons of drought, water your millet, your manioc, your bananas, and the grass in the jungle, so that you will have plenty to eat, and your cows will have good fodder and will give rich milk. Do you, oh people, need food and milk?”
“And the good Msimu will tell the Great Spirit to send you a wind which will blow away from your village that sickness which honeycombs the body. Do you, oh people, want it to blow the sickness away?”
“And at the prayer of the good Msimu the Great Spirit will protect you from attacks, from slavery, from damage to your fields, from lions, from panthers, from snakes and from locusts——”
“Now listen, look and see who sits in front of the hut between the ears of the terrible elephant. There is Bwana Kubwa, the white man, great and strong, whom even the elephant fears.”
“Who has thunder in his hands and uses it to kill bad men.”
“But who will do you no harm if you will respect the good Msimu!”
“And if you will bring him dried banana flour, eggs, fresh milk, and honey.”
“Then come nearer and fall on your faces before the good Msimu.”
M’Rua and his warriors started off, repeating continuously, “Yancig! Yancig!” Then approaching cautiously, they moved a short distance nearer, for their steps were halted by their superstitious fear of the Msimu and the elephant. The sight of Saba also filled them with terror, for they took him to be a “wobo,” a large golden leopard, inhabiting that district and also southern Abyssinia, which the natives fear more than a lion because it is especially fond of human flesh, and is even bold enough to attack armed men. But they were pacified on seeing that the little fat-faced negro held the terrible “wobo” by a leash. This gave them a still higher conception of the power of the good Msimu, and also of the white man, and while looking first at the white elephant, then at Saba, they whispered to each other: “If they have even bewitched wobo, who in the world can struggle successfully against them?” But the most solemn moment was when Stasch, turning to Nell, bowed low and then pushed back the sides of the palanquin, which were arranged like curtains, and showed the good Msimu to the assembled multitude. M’Rua and every one of the warriors fell on their faces, so that their bodies formed a long, living bridge. None dared to move, and all hearts were even more terror-stricken when just at that very moment King, either by order of Stasch or of his own accord, threw up his trunk and began to trumpet very loud, and Saba followed his example in the deepest bass which he could muster. Then there rang out from the hearts of all the warriors a cry like a beseeching groaning: “Aka! Aka! Aka!” and this lasted a long while, until Kali continued: