III.

A fire smouldered in a circular hearth in the middle of the floor, but the light from it was so dim that nothing more was visible. Mokorongo, kneeling deftly, drew together the unburnt sticks and blew upon the pile; the suddenness with which it burst into flame startled him. Then he rose and looked round the hut.

Chiromo had walked over to his bed; he now sat watching.

The blackened walls were profusely decorated with rude drawings, done in light clay, of men and beasts, with here and there a pattern such as one sees on primitive earthenware vessels. From the roof, suspended by a length of plaited bark, dangled the skull of a human being. Mokorongo had seen many human skulls in his time, but, in such a place, this ghastly human relic unnerved him a little. The skull spun slightly with the air current which entered the open door, and ghostly eyes seemed to peer from the empty sockets, first at one man, then at the other, as if the lifeless thing were taking a lively interest in the situation.

Mokorongo pretended to scratch himself; what he really did was to shift the paperweight until it rested under his left arm. In that position he could press it to him without being noticed. The relief it brought was great and lasting.

From a peg in the wall hung a mummified ma.s.s of what looked suspiciously like entrails; whether human or not the messenger did not pause to consider. The fleshless forearm and hand of a child protruded from the thatch; the fingers were spread out as in the act of grasping. A pile of mouldering skins lay on the floor, and beside it a little heap of dead chameleons; one, more lately killed than the rest, contributed generously to the evil smell which pervaded the hut. Just above this carrion was a cl.u.s.ter of black and red weevils as large as mice; they hung from a porcupine quill, each tied to it by a thin strand of twisted sinew. The aimless movements of legs showed that some of the insects were still alive. Here and there, propped against the wall, were gourds and pots filled, no doubt, with strange nauseous mixtures brewed by the witch doctor for his evil purposes.

Well-worn clothing and filthy rags hung from pegs thrust into the thatch where the roof of the hut rested on the mud wall. The bleeding head and slimy skin of a freshly killed goat lay on the floor at the foot of the bed. Just beyond it was a large basket covered loosely with a leopard skin; Mokorongo made a mental note of this.

If Chiromo expected his guard to show any sign of fear, he was disappointed. Mokorongo drew a small stool towards him, and sat down; with the exception of the bed, it was the only furniture in the hut.

The witch doctor was the first to speak:

"The gun is yours, father, and the money, when you untie my hands so that I may get them for you."

"I have two guns in my village," replied the messenger, "and I also have much money, for as I am a servant of the Government, I pay no tax."

"Can a man have too much money or too many guns?"

"I cannot say; but, as for me, I have enough."

"How many wives have you?" asked Chiromo.

The messenger did not answer. Such talk did not trouble him. He was a simple African, whose one desire was to please his master; he was proof against bribery in any form.

Chiromo tried other tactics.

"Yesterday, they say, I killed a man by charms. It is said also that many men have died by poison. People fall sick, some say, when I think of them in anger. It well may be that your master has fallen sick, for my anger is strong towards him, and is rising against his servant, who has tied me."

Mokorongo hugged the talisman, but did not reply. He glanced at the skull which at that moment swung towards him, then at the hand which, in the flicker of the firelight, seemed to reach out to grasp at him. He looked at the chameleons, and spat on the floor as he became aware of the stench arising from them; next, the aimless waving of the weevils'

legs attracted his attention, and then his glance rested on the basket covered with the leopard skin.

Chiromo was about to speak again, but Mokorongo, springing to his feet, interrupted him. His master had said: "Bring Chiromo back with you, and bring his medicines." The basket must hold those medicines; moreover, the prospect of listening to Chiromo until the morning, seated in the midst of his evil properties, was unthinkable. He would feel more at his ease walking through the night, although it was so dark and cold.

He went to the door and called. There was no reply. The village was full of people, but they had a very real fear of what the witch doctor might do. All had crept back to their huts. He called again, and in the name of the Government, but still none came.

He shouted, that the whole village might hear: "I take Chiromo to our Chief. Bring a rope, that I may tie him and lead him through the night."

Presently a woman appeared, bringing in her hand a stout rope such as all natives use for trapping antelope. She handed it to Mokorongo, volunteering the information that it was her son whom Chiromo had killed. She did not actually say that he had been killed, neither did she mention Chiromo's name--she dared not do this--but she did say that before sunrise her son had been buried.

Mokorongo tied a slip-knot in the rope and pa.s.sed it over Chiromo's head. A sharp tug, accompanied by a peremptory "Stand, you!" brought Chiromo quickly to his feet.

Indicating successively the horrors hanging from the roof and walls, he said: "Put that, and this, and those into the basket."

Chiromo hesitated, but only for a moment; a tightening rope round one's neck has an unpleasant feeling. With his manacled hands he picked up each repulsive thing and thrust it into the basket.

"Bring the basket," Mokorongo commanded, moving towards the door.

Outside in the black night, and conscious of the paperweight under his arm, the messenger's full courage and sense of authority returned to him.

"Let all witnesses to this big case follow quickly to the Court; it is the order of the Chief and the law of the Government."

Then, helping Chiromo to encircle the basket with his arms, he strode off down the path leading from the village, his captive, securely handcuffed and led by the rope round his neck, following tamely enough.

IV.

The witnesses were many--of all ages and of both s.e.xes. The case promised to be a famous one, so relations and friends had come from the villages round about to attend. The people had travelled slowly, consequently it was late in the afternoon when they arrived.

The Native Commissioner had decided to take evidence on the morrow; the people were therefore directed to camp by the river for the night.

Chiromo was to remain in the cell to which he had been conducted earlier in the day by the messenger.

Mokorongo was very happy. He had presented himself to his master on arrival, returned the paperweight, reported the arrest of Chiromo, and had handed over the basket of medicines. He would have told his story then and there, but the Commissioner, who was busy, dismissed him with "Good, now go and eat and sleep. You can return at sundown and tell me everything. I will listen to the witnesses to-morrow."

But, of course, Mokorongo did not sleep. He felt a hero, and was so regarded by his fellow messengers and others. He told the story of his adventures to all who cared to hear, and they were many. Little work was done that day by any native on the Station.

With much telling the story improved almost beyond recognition. For instance, his seventh audience was thrilled by the recitation of the threatening words which the skull had addressed to him; knots of woolly hair rose when the efforts of the fleshless hand to grasp the master's talisman were described; the brave words which Mokorongo had addressed to the basket of medicines when it had shown an inclination to escape by the door drew grunts of admiration; a shudder ran through his hearers when he repeated what the dead chameleons had related to him--how they had once been men, until transformed and killed by the very bad man now under arrest.

The narrative was interrupted by one of the house-boys: "You are called," was the curt command, meaning that his master wished to see Mokorongo.

Under the stimulus of the great admiration of his fellows, generously expressed, Mokorongo had given free play to his imagination. His narrative had become thrilling; but now, under the cold eye of the master, fancy fled, and the messenger's account of himself conformed to the court formula--the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

How Chiromo pa.s.sed the night cannot, of course, be told. He might have spent the time preparing his defence; it is much more likely that he simply slept.

V.

Everything was ready for the hearing of the case. On the veranda of the Court House the Commissioner's table had been placed. Conspicuous upon it was the paperweight. On the ground in front of it lay the witch doctor's basket with its leopard skin covering. On the right sat Chiromo; he was still handcuffed, but without the rope round his neck.

By his side stood Mokorongo. Immediately behind them were ranged the rest of the messengers attached to the Station. They, with the Court House, formed two sides of a square: the figure was completed by the crowd of witnesses seated on the ground.

Presently the Commissioner was seen approaching along the path which led from his house. The people began to clap their hands, which, in certain parts of Africa, is the native way of showing respect. As the Commissioner appeared on the verandah, the messengers saluted him by raising their right hands above their heads and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.n.g. "Morena."

The Commissioner nodded by way of acknowledgment, the people ceased to clap; there was dead silence.

The white man looked across his table at the witch doctor. For a time he said nothing. Chiromo blinked and looked away. Glancing up and finding that unpleasantly steady gaze upon him still, he again looked quickly away.

"Unlock those handcuffs," said the Commissioner. Mokorongo produced the key from the pouch on his belt and freed the witch doctor's hands.

Addressing Chiromo, the official asked: "Is it true that you are the killer of people?"

"It is not true," replied Chiromo.

"Can you kill people by means of charms and medicines?"

Chiromo said he could not.