They did not understand his philosophy; they could not follow his reasoning; they were altogether fogged as to whether he decided upon the one side or the other; and at the end, when he raised his two hands according to custom and said, “The palaver is finished,” they went away pleasantly confounded.

“We have a chief,” said the headman of the fishing village by the river, “who is wiser than all other men; so wise that we cannot understand him.”

K’maka busied himself with mundane affairs. He even took a girl of the Isisi to wife. Also he allowed free passage to Isisi and Ochori alike. Both nations sent him presents, which he accepted. On the third day of his chieftainship his headman had come to tell him that the Ochori were fishing in Lombobo waters, and that the Isisi were hunting in the Lombobo forests.

“Let this be,” said M’maka, “for the forests and the rivers are for all, and there are no boundaries to necessity. For this is not my land nor my river; nor is it yours; being rather for all men, who find therein certain requirements.”

This was as Sanders required, and when the news came to the Commissioner, as it did, he was pleased.

Then an evil gossip brought to K’maka stories of his girl-wife, who was attractive.

“I am no man to set a fence about desire,” said K’maka; “nor shall man or woman in this, my land, be enslaved by custom.”

Two months passed smoothly. K’maka grew in influence daily, his crowning achievement being a judgment which took nine days to deliver.

Then a headman came with a plaint against the Ochori.

“Lord, they cut wood in the Lombobo country and carry it to their city,” he said.

“The wood is free to all,” said K’maka.

He sat on the little carved stool in the centre of the half-moon of huts which constituted his administrative headquarters.

“Yet,” he went on, “since this is my land and the people my people, and since I have been set to guard them, it is a shameful thing that robbers should spoil this land.”

A fortnight after this a party of Ochori hunters came into the Lombobo country hot on the trail of an elephant. K’maka sent a regiment to seize them and impound the elephant.

“For this I say,” said he to his captives, “and my words are of such wisdom that even Sandi bows before them: That which is on one side of a certain tree on the Ochori side is mine and what is on the other side is your master’s.”

“Lord,” said the chief huntsman, “it was a palaver that there should be free hunting in your land.”

“And free fishing,” said K’maka with savage sarcasm, “and free wood-cutting by Death! And that thief, your master, would spoil my beautiful land, sucking it I dry, and make mock of me–a chief of a thousand spears! Go back to Bosambo and summon him to meet me by the gum-tree on the road.”

The empty-handed huntsmen returned home to meet with the wrath of their lord.

Bosambo swore in Karo, in Arabic, in Bomongo, in Swahili, and in English, calling K’maka a “dam black nigger,” and casting reflections upon his parentage. At an appointed time the two chiefs met, K’maka being late in arriving.

“Lord Bosambo,” said he, speaking from a place which was on the Lombobo side of the gum-tree, “I have shame in my heart that I did not come at the hour. But I have a wife who had a lover, putting shame on me, and this day I killed her and him according to the law.”

“These things happen,” said Bosambo. “Now have I come to you, K’maka the Thinker, because of certain strange occurrences which have come to my ears. It is said that you have forbidden the Ochori to hunt or chop wood in your territory.”

“That is true,” said K’maka, “for the land this side of the gum-tree is mine, and I am chief of the country as far as your eye sees.”

“The land is for all,” said Bosambo with some unction.

“The world is for all,” corrected the Thinker; “yet rabbits do not nest in trees or eagles burrow in the earth. Each kind lives in the place appointed, and it is appointed the Ochori should live on the one side and the Lombobo on the other.”

Bosambo was aroused.

“It seems that you are an avaricious dog,” he said, “and if I chop wood to the edge of my country, behold I begin!”

He called for an axe, and they brought him one thin of blade and very sharp.

He struck twice at the tree.

“Bosambo,” said K’maka, quivering with rage, “what do you do?”

“Dispenser of Justice,” mocked Bosambo, “former of fat words, talking fish and breeder of wisdom as a dirty hut breeds vermin, I go to cut my tree.”

“It is my tree!” roared K’maka and reached behind him for a throwing spear.

“One half is yours,” said Bosambo, chopping steadily, yet with an eye to danger, “and behold! I cut down that half which is mine. And if by your wisdom you keep your half standing, then you are a prince amongst thinkers.”

He continued cutting whilst K’maka watched, boiling with rage.

“If you continue in your evil practice,” he said, “what shall prevent the tree falling.”

“Nothing,” said Bosambo significantly, “for the nights of wind are coming, and the wind blows towards the Ochori–and behold! when the tree falls it shall belong to me!”

K’maka drew back his hand swiftly and threw his spear.

* * *

“They are in that clump of bush,” said Sanders. His face was reeking wet, and there was a thin trickle of blood on his face.

“I’ll put a couple of shells into ‘em,” said the Houssa captain. “These Lombobo people fight fairly well.”

Sanders said nothing. He bared his white teeth in a smile, but he was not really amused.

“Ahmet,” said the Houssa captain, kneeling on the deck and keeping his field glasses fixed on the little patch of wood that hid the enemy, “as you love the faith and hate all Kaffirs, do not drop your shell short again, or I will beat you on the feet.”

“Lord, the light is bad,” said the gunner. He brought the muzzle of the gun a little higher and fired.

This time the shell fell true. Over the trees a white ball of smoke came into existence, and they heard the “krock” of its shell as it burst.

The Houssa captain rose and walked to where Sanders stood.

“Exactly what is all the bother about?” he asked.

Sanders said nothing for a while.

“Bosambo had something to do with it,” he said, “yet the rascal was only acting according to his rights. K’maka is raising Cain. He has fought the Isisi and raided their territory; he has pushed back the Ochori to the edge of their city–they had to fight like the devil to save it. K’maka has proclaimed himself king of the Ochori, the Isisi, and the Lombobo, and has sent to the Akasava and the N’Gombi to bring him presents and do homage.”

His voice choked; then the humour of it appealed to him, and he laughed.

He went ashore with the Houssas, and led the section which stormed the last stockade. Revolver in hand, he raced across the little clearing, the Houssas, with fixed bayonets, flanking him.

K’maka, surrounded by the remnant of his captains, made a fierce resistance, but it was futile.

Suddenly his men flung down their spears and bolted.

“Take that man!”

A group of Houssas flung themselves upon the struggling philosopher and bore him down.

They brought him, bleeding but defiant, before Sanders, and for the space of two minutes they looked at one another.

“K’maka,” said Sanders at length, “you have done a terrible thing, for you have brought war to this land by your arrogance and pride.”

“White man,” said K’maka haughtily, “I am a king and the master of these countries–I do not speak with servants–therefore, little man, bring me before your king that we may speak, equal to equal.”

Sanders said nothing, then:

“Catch him!” he said quickly.

For K’maka went suddenly limp, his knees gave way and he slid down to the earth.

He was wounded to death, as Sanders saw when he examined him.

They carried the man to the shade of a tree, and Sanders sat by him.

The man looked up at the Commissioner.

“Lord,” he said faintly, “I think I go beyond your punishment.”

“That is true, K’maka,” said Sanders softly, “and I could have wished you had gone before you brought all this sorrow to the Lombobo people.”

K’maka shook his head.

“This is the way,” he said drowsily, “for the living things prey upon the living things, birds upon insects, leopards upon birds, men upon leopards, and, since there is nought greater than man, then man preys upon himself. This is ordained–“

They gave him water and he opened his eyes again.

“Lord,” he said, and now he spoke with difficulty, “I have discovered in my thinking the greatest truth in the world.”

A strange light came into his eyes; they danced eagerly with the greatness of his discovery.

“All your wise men do not know this,” he whispered; “death is–“

Sanders waited, but K’maka the Thinker carried his secret with him to the land of sleep.

The People of the River

8. NINE TERRIBLE MEN

THERE were nine terrible men in the Forest of O’tomb’, so native report had it.

Nine terrible men who lived on an island set in a swamp. And the swamp was hard to come by, being in the midst of a vast forest. Only a monkey or a leopard could find a way to the inhabitants of this island–they themselves being privy to the secret ways.

No man of the Isisi, of the N’Gombi, of the Akasava, or of the river tribes, attempted to track down the nine, for, as it was generally known, most powerful ju-jus guarded all paths that led to the secret place.

Nine outlawed men, with murder and worse upon their souls, they came together. God knows how, and preyed upon their world.

They raided with impunity, being impartial as to whether Isisi or N’Gombi paid toll.

By night they would steal forth in single file, silent as death, no twig cracking in their path, no word spoken. As relentless as the soldier ant in his march of destruction, they made their way without hindrance to the village they had chosen for the scene of their operations, took what they wanted and returned.

Sometimes they wanted food, sometimes spears–for these lords of the woods were superior to craftsmanship–sometimes a woman or two went and never came back.

Such lawless communities were not uncommon. Occasionally very ordinary circumstances put an end to them; some there were that flourished, like the People-Who-Were-Not-All-Alike.

The Nine Terrible Men of the O’tomb’ existed because nothing short of an army corps could have surrounded them, and because, as Sanders thought, they were not a permanent body, but dispersed at times to their several homes.

Sanders once sent two companies of Houssas to dislodge the nine, but they did nothing, for the simple reason that never once did they get within shooting distance. Then Sanders came himself, and caught little else than a vicious attack of malarial fever.

He sent messages to all the chiefs of the people within a radius of a hundred miles to kill at sight any of the nine, offering certain rewards. After three palpably inoffensive men of the Ochori tribe had been killed, and the reward duly claimed, Sanders countermanded the order.

For two years the nine ravaged at will, then a man of the Isisi, one Fembeni, found grace.

Fembeni became a Christian, though there is no harm in that.