"Ehh!" commented Birnier, contorting his swollen lips in the dark, "would that I had such an one! Thinkest thou that the men did as they were bidden?"

"Who knows what is in the heart of a goat?" returned Mungongo contemptuously, for they were of another tribe.

"Ah, listen!"

The mutter of the hand-drum grew swifter as a high tenor chanted to the accompaniment of the abdominal grunting and the laryngeal shrilling:

"We have come from afar from the Place of the waters!

From the place where dwells the mighty Eater-of-Men!

Hard was the road as the hills of Kilimanjaro!

Hot was the sun as the wrath of Inyira the bold!

The son of Banyala!

Ough! ... Ough!

E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-h!

But strong are we still as the trunk of an elephant!

For have we not walked in the shade of a great chief!

Blacker and fiercer than the male rhinoceros!

Swifter and more terrible than the mother of whelps?

The son of Banyala!

Ough! ... Ough!

E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-h!

What hath he given us to tickle our spears?

A dainty white dog whose meat is so tender!

Fattened and groomed by the Eater-of-Men!

A gift from the great Chief to his ally and friend.

The son of Banyala!

Ough! ... Ough!

E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-h!

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 phosph.o.r.escent effect around the eyes. Leaving his clothes he crawled back to Mungongo.

"Ehh!" exclaimed Mungongo in a m.u.f.fled scream when he saw the glowing apparition. Birnier heard the rustle of gra.s.s. 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 pa.s.sive.

"Eh! Eh!" he gasped, "truly thou art a more mighty magician than Bakahenzie."

"Be quiet!"

The drums and the song were still going and the chant had become more obscene.

"Follow me!" whispered Birnier, when Mungongo was more rea.s.sured.

They made a detour. As they drew near they could hear m.u.f.fled 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 f.a.ggots, were the four servants, their feet singeing on the outside hot ashes.

For a second Birnier hesitated. He could not know whether any of the guns was loaded. The fire was of glowing embers which did not throw much light into the tent. Swiftly Birnier rose and glided into his own chair in the deep shadow of the tent flap. Then summoning all his nerve he uttered a yell and began to shout the first song which he could recollect:

"Hurrah! Hurrahhhhhhh! It is the Jubileeeee!

Hurrah! Hurrah! the flag that set you free!"

The native minstrel stopped in the middle of his chant; the whole shuffling, grunting crowd was petrified in as many different poses.

Birnier leaped to his feet waving his arms wildly, yelling:

"Thus we sang the chor-uss from Atlanta to the Sea-aa!

As we ..."

But before he had gotten to "Georgia," only the prostrate forms around the fire had not fled.

CHAPTER 10

On the morning of Birnier's departure there was much movement in Ingonya station. Every sign of preparation for the expedition had been carefully concealed while a stranger was in the vicinity. Trumpets blared importantly. On the great parade ground companies were formed, long lines of rigid, ebon figures, down which strolled zu Pfeiffer inspecting personally kits and rifles. Afterwards they were drawn up before the flag-pole. In an address zu Pfeiffer informed them that they served under a greater Bwana than he, the greatest Bwana in the countries of the white or the black, who was the son of Ngai (an uncertain term meaning "son of G.o.d" or the "son of n.o.body"); that the flag they bore, the brother of the big one upon the pole, was so powerful in magic that none could withstand it, the Totem of the Bwana Mkubwa Kuba. No wives were allowed for black or white, and he himself set them the example; for they were embarking on a war expedition to take a country which they knew was full of ivory, cattle and women.

The row upon row of eyes in black faces bulged, as from the ma.s.s came the long grunt of a.s.sent and allegiance. The three white sergeants barked at their various companies, which wheeled into column formation and marched past zu Pfeiffer beneath the flag in review order, their alignment and precision a credit to their drill masters. Down below the fort on the mouth of the bayou Sergeant Ludwig superintended the overhauling of the steam-launch, and a native sergeant and a file of men overseered lines of carriers bearing white men's provisions, the bulk of which was zu Pfeiffer's personal supplies. Around the launch was a flotilla of native canoes in charge of a small crowd of nude Kavirondo paddlers, jabbering at the prospect of a war expedition.

Most of the day zu Pfeiffer spent in the orderly room going over doc.u.ments and giving detailed instructions to the grizzled Sergeant Schneider, who was to take over the station with fifty of the least competent men, pending the arrival of an officer, which again would depend upon the success of the expedition. In zu Pfeiffer's manner was evident the controlled excitement of a boy on the eve of a house match, and indeed for him it was the game for which he was bred and lived, "das Kriegspiel."

Perpetually his long fingers caressed the sentry moustaches; an unusual glitter was in his blue eyes.