We will tickle his white flesh with the tongue of our spears! Our women shall pluck out his hair and his manhood! He shall dance to our liking in the midst of the fire! His girl screams for mercy shall lave hungry ears of ——! The son of Banyala! Ough! … Ough! E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-h!
Great was the gift of the great Eater-of-Men! A white slave so sleek to dance the dance of the ants! Eh! We’ll slit up his nostrils and pull out his hairs! A white slave and four black ones to wait on one great chief! The son of Banyala! Ough! … Ough! E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-h!
“Those children of folly have not obeyed,” whispered Birnier. “The time is come.… Wait here for me, O Mungongo. I go to take my spirit form. When I return be not afraid!”
“Truly,” answered Mungongo, as Birnier crawled away and down the bank. By the water’s edge he swiftly stripped himself to his moccasins and taking out the wax vestas, damped each precious one and carefully rubbed lines over his face and body, endeavouring to get the most distinctive phosphorescent effect around the eyes. Leaving his clothes he crawled back to Mungongo.
“Ehh!” exclaimed Mungongo in a muffled scream when he saw the glowing apparition. Birnier heard the rustle of grass. As the boy stood up to run he leaped and pulled him down savagely.
“Be quiet, thou fool!” he whispered. “It is I. Be silent!”
“Eh! Eh!” gasped Mungongo, who was trembling violently.
“If thou dost not be quiet will I tie up thy heart,” threatened Birnier.
Mungongo continued to quiver, but he remained passive.
“Eh! Eh!” he gasped, “truly thou art a more mighty magician than Bakahenzie.”
The drums and the song were still going and the chant had become more obscene.
“Follow me!” whispered Birnier, when Mungongo was more reassured.
They made a detour. As they drew near they could hear muffled screams and groans beneath the howl of the chorus and song. The mighty son of Banyala and his merry men were so engrossed in the orgy that Birnier could have walked right up to the fire before anyone would have seen him. But he would not take any unnecessary risk. Leaving Mungongo outside he crawled under the back flap of the tent. Crouched there he paused. The tent was empty; for all were engaged in the dance. His two shot-guns and two light rifles were stacked in the corner and the big express which the corporal had appropriated, leaned against the tent door behind the chair. He glanced hurriedly around for ammunition, but he could not see any open, and he had left his belt of cartridges with his clothes. Outside the men and women were circling in contrary directions, each with a spear, a knife or a firebrand in hand, around the fire beside which, trussed like bundles of faggots, were the four servants, their feet singeing on the outside hot ashes.