The king called a secret palaver of his headmen.
"These miserable Ochori thieves ruin us," he said. "Are we men or dogs? Now, I tell you, my people and councillors, that to-morrow I send Bosambo and his robbers away, though I die for it!"
"Kwai!" said the councillors in unison.
"Lord," said one, "in the times of cala-calathe Kiko folk were very fierce and bloody; perchance if we rouse the people with our eloquence they are still fierce and bloody."
The king looked dubious.
"I do not think," he said, "that the Kiko people are as fierce and bloody as at one time, for we have had many fat years. What I know, O friend, is that the Ochori are very fierce indeed, and Bosambo has killed many men."
He screwed up his courage through the night, and in the morning put it to the test.
Bosambo, in his most lordly way, had ordered a big hunting, and he and his men were assembling in the village street when the king and his councillors approached.
"Lord," said the king mildly, "I have that within me which I must tell."
"Say on," said Bosambo.
"Now, I love you, Bosambo," said the chief, "and the thought that I must speed you on your way with presents is very sad to me."
"More sad to me," said Bosambo ominously.
"Yet lord," said the desperate chief, "I must, for my people are very fierce with me that I keep you so long within our borders. Likewise, there is much sickness, and I fear lest you and your beautiful men also become sick, and die."
"Only one man in all the world, chief," said Bosambo, speaking with deliberation, "has ever put such shame upon me and, king, that man where is he?"
The king of the Kiko did not say, because he did not know. He could guess oh, very well he could guess! and Bosambo's next words justified his guesswork.
"He is dead," said Bosambo solemnly. "I will not say how he died, lest you think I am a boastful one, or whose hand struck him down, for fear you think vainly nor as to the manner of his dying, for that would give you sorrow!"
"Bosambo," said the agitated chief of the Kiko, "these are evil words "
"I say no evil words," said Bosambo, "for I am, as you know, the brother-in-law of Sandi, and it would give him great grief. I say nothing, O little king!"
With a lofty wave of his hand he strode away, and, gathering his men together, he marched them to the beach.
It was in vain that the chief of the Kiko had stored food in enormous quantities and presents in each canoe, that bags of salt were evenly distributed amongst the paddlers.
Bosambo, it is true, did not throw them back upon the shore, but he openly and visibly scorned them. The king, standing first on one foot and then on the other, in his anxiety and embarrassment, strove to give the parting something of a genial character, but Bosambo was silent, forbidding, and immensely gloomy.
"Lord," said the chief, "when shall my heart again be gladdened at the sight of your pretty face?"
"Who knows?" said Bosambo mysteriously. "Who can tell when I come, or my friends! For many men love me Isisi, N'gombi, Akasava, Bongindi, and the Bush people."
He stepped daintily into his canoe.
"I tell you," he said, wagging a solemn forefinger, "that whatever comes to you, it is no palaver of mine; whoever steals quietly upon you in the night, it will not be Bosambo I call all men to witness this saying."
And with this he went.
There was a palaver that night, where all men spoke at once, and the Kiko king did not more than bite his nails nervously. It was certain that attack would come.
"Let us meet them boldly," said the one who had beforetime rendered such advice. "For in times of cala-cala the Kiko folk were fierce and bloody people."
Whatever they might have been once, there was no spirit of adventure abroad then, and many voices united to call the genius who had suggested defiance a fool and worse.
All night long the Kiko stood a nation in arms.
Once the hooting of a bird sent them scampering to their huts with howls of fear; once a wandering buffalo came upon a quaking picket and scattered it. Night after night the fearful Kiko kept guard, sleeping as they could by day.
They saw no enemy; the suspense was worse than the vision of armed warriors. A messenger went to Sanders about the fears and apprehensions of the people, but Sanders was callous.
"If any people attack you, I will come with my soldiers, and for every man of you who dies, I will kill one of your enemies."
"Lord," said the messenger, none other than the king's son, "if we are dead, we care little who lives or dies. Now, I ask you, master, to send your soldiers with me, for our people are tired and timid."
"Be content," said Sanders, "that I have remitted your taxation the palaver is finished."
The messenger returned to his dismal nation Sanders at the time was never more than a day's journey from the Kiko and a sick and weary people sat down in despair to await the realisation of their fears.
They might have waited throughout all eternity, for Bosambo was back in his own city, and had almost forgotten them, and Isisi and the Akasava, regarding them for some reason as Sanders' urglebes, would have no more thought of attacking them than they would have considered the possibility of attacking Sanders; and as for the N'gombi, they had had their lesson.
Thus matters stood when the Lulungo people, who live three days beyond the Akasava, came down the river looking for loot and trouble.
The Lulungo people are an unlovable race; "a crabbed, bitter, and a beastly people," Sanders once described them in his wrath.
For two years the Lulungo folk had lain quiet, then, like foraging and hungry dogs, they took the river trail six canoes daubed with mud and rushes.
They found hospitality of a kind in the fishing villages, for the peaceable souls who lived therein fled at the first news of the visitation.
They came past the Ochori warily keeping to midstream. Time was when the Ochori would have supplied them with all their requirements, but nowadays these men of Bosambo's snapped viciously.
"None the less," said Gomora, titular chief of the Lulungo, to his headmen, "since we be so strong the Ochori will not oppose us let two canoes paddle to land."
The long boats were detached from the fleet and headed for the beach. A shower of arrows fell short of them, and they turned back.
The Isisi country they passed, the Akasava they gave the widest of berths to, for the Lulungo folk are rather cruel than brave, better assassins than fighting men, more willing to kill coldly than in hot blood. They went lurching down the river, seizing such loot as the unprotected villages gave them.
It was a profitless expedition.
"Now we will go to Kiko," said Gomora; "for these people are very rich, and, moreover, they are fearful. Speak to my people, and say that there shall be no killing, for that devil Sandi hates us, and he will incite the tribes against us, as he did in the days of my father."
They waited till night had fallen, and then, under the shadow of the river bank, they moved silently upon their prey.
"We will frighten them," confided Gomora; "and they will give us what we ask; then we will make them swear by Iwa that they will not speak to Sandi it will be simple."
The Lulungo knew the Kiko folk too well, and they landed at a convenient place, making their way through the strip of forest without the display of caution which such a manoeuvre would have necessitated had it been employed against a more warlike nation.
* * * * *Sanders, hurrying down stream, his guns swung out and shotted for action, his armed Houssas sitting in the bow of the steamer, met two canoes, unmistakably Lulungo.
He circled and captured them. In one was Gomora, a little weak from loss of blood, but more bewildered.
"Lord," he said bitterly, "all this world is changed since you have come; once the Ochori were meat for me and my people, being very timorous. Then by certain magic they became fierce fighters. And now, lord, the Kiko folk, who, up and down the river, are known for their gentleness, have become like devils."
Sanders waited, and the chief went on:
"Last night we came to the Kiko, desiring to rest with them, and in the dark of the forest they fell upon us, with great screaming; and, behold! of ten canoes these men are all I have left, for the Kiko were waiting for our coming."
He looked earnestly at Sanders.
"Tell me, lord," he said, "what magic do white men use to make warriors from cowards?"
"That is not for your knowing," said Sanders diplomatically; "yet you should put this amongst the sayings of your people, 'Every rat fights in his hole, and fear is more fierce than hate.'"
He went on to Kiko city, arriving in time to check an expedition, for the Kiko, filled with arrogance at their own powers, were assembling an army to attack the Ochori.
"Often have I told," said the chief, trembling with pride, "that the Kiko were terrible and bloody now, lord, behold! In the night we slew our oppressors, for the spirit of our fathers returned to us, and our enemies could not check us."
"Excellent!" said Sanders in the vernacular. "Now I see an end to all taxation palaver, for, truly, you do not desire my soldiers nor the puc-a-puc. Yet, lest the Lulungo folk return for they are as many as the sands of the river I will send fighting men to help you."
"Lord you are as our father and mother," said the gratified chief.
"Therefore I will prevail upon Bosambo, whose heart is now sore against you, to come with his fighting tribes to sit awhile at your city."
The chief's face worked convulsively: he was as one swallowing a noxious draught.
"Lord," he said, speaking under stress of emotion, "we are a poor people, yet we may pay your lordship full taxes, for in the end I think it would be cheaper than Bosambo and his hungry devils."
"So I think!" said Sanders.
CHAPTER III
THE RISE OF THE EMPEROR
Tobolaka, the king of the Isisi, was appointed for his virtues, being a Christian and a Bachelor of Arts.
For a time he ruled his country wisely and might have died full of honour, but his enthusiasm got the better of him.
For Tobolaka had been taken to America when a boy by an enthusiastic Baptist, had been educated at a college and had lectured in America and England. He wrote passable Latin verse, so I am told; was a fluent exponent of the Free Silver Policy of Mr. Bryan, and wore patent leather shoes with broad silk laces.
In London he attracted the attention of a callow Under-Secretary of State for the Colonies, and this Under-Secretary was a nephew of the Prime Minister, cousin of the Minister of War, and son-in-law of the Lord Chancellor, so he had a pull which most Under-Secretaries do not ordinarily possess.
"Mr. Tobolaka," said the Under-Secretary, "what are your plans?"
Mr. Tobolaka was a little restrained.
"I feel, Mr. Cardow," he said, "that my duties lie in my land no, I do not mean that I have any call to missionary work, but rather to administration. I am, as you know of the Isisi people we are a pure Bantu stock, as far as legend supports that contention and I have often thought, remembering that the Isisi are the dominant race, that there are exceptional opportunities for an agglomeration of interests; in fact "
"A splendid idea a great idea!" said the enthusiastic Under-Secretary.
Now it happened that this young Mr. Cardow had sought for years for some scheme which he might further to his advantage. He greatly desired, after the fashion of all budding Parliamentarians, to be associated with a movement which would bring kudos and advertisement in its train, and which would earn for him the approval or the condemnation of the Press, according to the shade of particular opinion which the particular newspapers represented.
So in the silence of his room in Whitehall Court, he evolved a grand plan which he submitted to his chief. That great man promised to read it on a given day, and was dismayed when he found himself confronted with forty folios of typewritten matter at the very moment when he was hurrying to catch the 10.35 to the Cotswold Golf Links.
"I will read it in the train," he said.
He crammed the manuscript into his bag and forgot all about it; on his return to town he discovered that by some mischance he had left the great scheme behind.
Nevertheless, being a politician and resourceful, he wrote to his subordinate.
"DEAR CARDOW, I have read your valuable document with more than ordinary interest. I think it is an excellent idea," he knew it was an idea because Cardow had told him so "but I see many difficulties. Mail me another copy. I should like to send it to a friend of mine who would give me an expert opinion."
It was a wily letter, but indiscreet, for on the strength of that letter the Under-Secretary enlisted the sympathies and practical help of his chief's colleagues.
"Here we have a native and an educated native," he said impressively, "who is patriotic, intelligent, resourceful. It is a unique opportunity a splendid opportunity. Let him go back to his country and get the threads together."
The conversation occurred in the Prime Minister's room, and there were present three Ministers of the Crown, including a Home Secretary, who was frankly bored, because he had a scheme of his own, and would much rather have discussed his Artisans' Tenement (19 ) Bill.
"Isn't there a Commissioner Sanders in that part of the world?" he asked languidly. "I seem to remember some such name. And isn't there likely to be trouble with the minor chiefs if you set up a sort of Central African Emperor?"
"That can be overcome," said the sanguine Cardow. "As for Sanders, I expect him to help. A dynasty established on the Isisi River might end all the troubles we have had there."
"It might end other things," said the impatient Home Secretary. "Now about this Tenement Bill. I think we ought to accept Cronk's amendment er "
A few weeks later Mr. Tobolaka was summoned to Whitehall Court.
"I think, Mr. Tobolaka," said Cardow complacently, "I have arranged for a trial of our plan. The Government has agreed after a tough fight with the permanent officials, I admit to establish you on the Isisi as King and Overlord of the Isisi, Ochori, N'gombi, and Akasava. They will vote you a yearly allowance, and will build a house in Isisi city for you. You will find Mr. Sanders er difficult, but you must have a great deal of patience."
"Sir," said Mr. Tobolaka, speaking under stress of profound emotion, "I'm e-eternally obliged. You've been real good to me, and I guess I'll make good."
Between the date of Tobolaka's sailing and his arrival Sanders ordered a palaver of all chiefs, and they came to meet him in the city of the Isisi.
"Chiefs and headmen," said Sanders, "you know that many moons ago the Isisi people rose in an evil moment and made sacrifice contrary to the law. So I came with my soldiers and took away the king to the Village of Irons, where he now sits. Because the Isisi are foolish people, my Government sets up a new king, who is Tobolaka, son of Yoka'n'kema, son of Ichulomo, the son of Tibilino."
"Lord," gasped an Isisi headman, "this Tobolaka I remember. The God-folk took him away to their own land, where he learnt to be white."
"Yet I promise you that he is black," said Sanders drily, "and will be blacker. Also, chiefs of the Ochori, N'gombi, and Akasava, this new king will rule you, being paramount king of these parts, and you shall bring him presents and tribute according to custom."