On the fourth day patience began to fray. He had no notion of knowing how long this quarantine was going to last. He was on the point of going to find out, but Mungongo pleaded so earnestly that they would instantly be killed if they did, that he desisted. So Birnier retired to the tent to seek consolation from a record of Lucille's voice.

Birnier attempted to cross-examine Mungongo to find out what was the object of this isolation, but beyond the fact that strangers were never permitted to behold the King-G.o.d, even lay natives, without special magic, which was only made once a year at the Harvest Festival, lest evil be made upon his person and so endanger the world, Mungongo did not know; merely, that so it was. What power over the head witch-doctor the King really had, Mungongo had no notion. The King-G.o.d was the most powerful magician known, a.s.serted Mungongo. Did he not make rain and bear the world upon his shoulders? When Birnier unwisely denied this feat, Mungongo looked pained and began a remark, but balked before the name Moonspirit to ask the name of Birnier's father.

At the mental image conjured up of a handsome white-haired planter and ex-owner of many slaves Birnier smiled, but he knew the tabu regarding the ban upon the names of the dead and that he, presumably, having ascended into the divine plane, was therefore cla.s.sed with the departed. He recollected that the old man, who belonged to a cadet branch of a royalist family, had been called "le Marquis," of which he was excessively proud.

Birnier translated into the dialect the nearest possible rendition of the t.i.tle: The Lord-of-many-Lands.

"The son of the Lord-of-many-Lands," continued Mungongo satisfied, "doth but tickle the feet of his slave."

On the fifth afternoon, while the G.o.d was engrossed in a cure for love madness which, he reflected, might be of service to zu Pfeiffer, came a voice without crying:

"The son of Maliko would speak with the Lord, the Bearer of the World!"

Birnier glanced across at the photograph of Lucille.

"Some job I've gotten!" he remarked as he rose. In the gate sat Bakahenzie. Birnier was conscious of an idiotic impulse to rush forward to greet him as an old and long lost friend. But remembering the dignity of his G.o.dhood he remained in the tent doorway, bidding the chief witch-doctor to advance.

Birnier retired backwards and sat beneath the net, for the mosquitoes were as thick as they are on the bayou Barataria. Mungongo, possibly to prove his erudition, sat upon one of the cases containing much magic, at which Bakahenzie from the floor in the doorway looked askance. Birnier was keenly anxious to know what was happening regarding the fortunes of the tribe, hoping that with the restoration of the Unmentionable One that they would return to their allegiance. According to etiquette he remained silent, waiting for Bakahenzie to open the conversation, until, realizing that he was a G.o.d and that the chief witch-doctor was doing the same thing, reflected swiftly and desiring to make an impression, repeated Bakahenzie's mystic phrase which he had overheard whilst hiding in the jungle previous to the denouement:

"That which is and must be, shall be!" Bakahenzie grunted his acknowledgment of the profundity of the statement. "He who would trap the leopard must needs dig the pit!" Another uncompromising silence urged Birnier to force the pace a little: "O son of Maliko, what say the omens and the signs of the evil one, Eyes-in-the-hands?"

"When shall the Unmentionable One return unto the Place of Kings?"

demanded Bakahenzie.

"The Holy One returneth not unto the place appointed until that which defileth is removed," retorted Birnier.

Bakahenzie took snuff and appeared to consider. Then he glanced around the tent as if in search of something.

"When will the voice of Tarum speak through the pod of the soul?"

Mungongo looked expectant and stood up. But Birnier ignored him.

"The fruit doth not fall until it be ripe. He would know what hath been done by his slaves for the baiting of the pit for the unclean one."

"Would the magician that cometh from the sea make pretence that an elephant is a mouse?" inquired Bakahenzie.

For a moment Birnier was perplexed; then he realized that the chief witch-doctor inferred that he, as King-G.o.d, mocked his priest by pretending that he did not know all things.

"Doth the chief witch-doctor make magic for the curing of the scratch of a girl of the hut thatch?" he retorted. "Lest thy heart wither like unto a fallen leaf, know then that the soul of Tarum hath made words for the return of the Unmentionable One to the Place of Kings, but that his children may not be as the dogs of the village who are driven, he wills that you prepare the pit for the trapping of the defiled one."

Bakahenzie's eyes stolidly regarded the tent wall. "O son of Maliko, hast thou sent forth the sound of the drum throughout the land that the children may know of the Coming?"

"When will the voice of Tarum speak through the pod of the soul?" demanded Bakahenzie insistently.

Birnier sat motionless in the native manner. Irritated by this childish tenacity to apparently a fixed idea, he yielded to an impulse which was almost a weakness.

"O son of Maliko," said he, "thou art a mighty magician!" Bakahenzie grunted modest a.s.sent. "Even as I am." Another grunt. "Give unto me thine ears and thine eyes that I may reveal unto thee that which is known to the mightiest of magicians." Commanding the delighted Mungongo to bring out the phonograph, he continued: "Thou hast heard of the mighty doings of the unclean devourer of men, Eyes-in-the-hands. I have magic the like of which man hath never seen. Is it not so?"

"Ough!"

"Yet will the son of the Lord-of-many-Lands make thee to see that which is, is not!"

"That which is, is not," repeated Bakahenzie, whose professional mind was pleased with the phrase.

In the desire to explain rationally the mystery of a phonograph and despairing of any attempt to describe the laws of vibration, Birnier sought for a likely simile. Encouraged by the almost imperceptible fact that he had awakened Bakahenzie's visible interest, he plunged on: "Within this piece of tree is there nought but many pieces of iron such as thy spears are made of. Thou knowest that there are places by the river and in the rocks where a man may speak and that his words will be returned to him. Is it not so?"

"They are white words, O son of the Lord-of-many-Lands!" returned Bakahenzie. "For the spirits of the river and the rocks mock the voices of those who have not eaten of the Sacred Banana" (the uninitiated).

"But they mock thy voice as well," protested Birnier.

"Are there not goats in ghostland who bleat at the wizard and the peasant?"

"By the Lord!" murmured Birnier, although the mask of his face did not change. "Ghostland is full of goats if one were to credit some of the most modern witch-doctors! Still demonstration ...

"Thou seest, fellow magician," he continued, "the pod of the soul of mighty Tarum, his ear like unto an elephant, his colour like unto a lion!"

Birnier got out of the mosquito net and knelt beside the phonograph in front of Bakahenzie. Taking off the trumpet and cylinder carrier he opened up the inside, revealing the clockwork motor, wound it up, stopped it and released it. "Thine eyes see that my words are white. These things are but as pieces of metal of thy spears. Is it not so?"

"Ough!"

Birnier closed the machine, adjusted the trumpet and put on the cylinder of Marufa's record.

"Aie! Aiee! I am the spirit of Kintu!

Aie! Aiee! I am he who first was!"

chanted the machine.

Birnier, noticing that the desired astonishment was registered by an almost impalpable start, stopped the machine and changed the record.

"Rejoice, O my children, for he that is bidden shall come!

Rejoice, O ye warriors, for he that shall lead you shall come!

Rejoice, O ye wizards, for he that is greater than ye shall come!

Rejoice, O ye women, for he that fertilizes shall come!"

Birnier allowed the machine to run through the chant until the end:

"He shall come forth bearing that which ye seek!

Hear ye, my people, and give voice to my word!"

The machine whirred and stopped. Birnier turned to Bakahenzie.

"Thou hast seen, O my brother magician, that my words are white?"

"Ough!" a.s.sented Bakahenzie.

"Thou hast seen, O my brother magician, that at the will of my finger upon that which is made but of spear-heads that the voice of Tarum hath spoken, the voice which is but the mocking voice of Marufa amid the trees of the forest?"

"Ough!"

"Dost thou not know that he who knows the ways of rocks, who can make pieces of spear into that which will say and do that which he wills, is a greater magician than he who must needs go unto the rocks to be mocked?"