Samba Part 11

Lucky Ilola!

He saved Imbono From five hippos, From ten hippos!

Lucky Imbono!

Happy Imbono!

Oh! oh! Imbono!

Next morning, as soon as it was light, Imbono came to pay a visit of ceremony. He had got himself up most elaborately for the occasion. A strip of yellow cotton was wound about his waist. His arms were covered with polished bra.s.s rings, and copper rings weighing at least ten pounds each encircled his wrists and ankles. A new headdress decked his hair; and he must have kept his barber busy half the night in arranging his top-knot and painting his face with red camwood and white clay. Pat by no means approved of the change, and barked at him furiously.

"Whisht, ye spalpeen!" said Barney, calling off the excited dog. "Sure 'tis only his Sunday clothes!"

Surrounded by a group of his young men, who were again loaded with offerings of food, the chief began a long speech, which was by no means abridged in Nando's translation. He related the incident of the previous day, omitting none of the most insignificant details, accounting, as it appeared, for every tooth in the jaws of the huge animal from which he had been saved. He went on to say that in grat.i.tude to the white man he had changed his mind. No longer would he withhold food; his young men even now had their hands full of the best products of Ilola. No longer would he refuse his friendship; he would even show the white man the place where the yellow metal was to be found--on one condition, that the white man would become his blood brother. Imbono and the white men would then be friends for ever.

"Well, I'll be very glad to be friends with the chief," said Mr.

Martindale, "and I'm right down obliged to him for agreeing to show me the location of the gold. And what's this blood brother business anyway? I don't size up to that without knowing something about it, you bet."

"Me tell all 'bout it, sah. Imbono hab got knife; he come scratch, scratch ma.s.sa his arm; den blood come, just little tiny drop, oh yes!

Den Imbono he lick ma.s.sa him blood. Ma.s.sa he hab got knife too: he scratch Imbono him arm all same, lick Imbono him blood. Me fink ma.s.sa not like black man him blood--not berrah berrah much. Den ma.s.sa gib Imbono little tiny present--knife, like knife Samba stole from Nando; Imbono gib ma.s.sa fowl, or bra.s.s ring, or anyfing ma.s.sa like. Den ma.s.sa and Imbono dey be blood brudder, be friends for eber and eber amen."

"Well, I guess the blood business sounds rather disgusting. What do you think, Jack?"

Jack made a grimace.

"Couldn't we leave all the licking to him, uncle?"

Here Nando broke in. "Me fink ma.s.sa not like black blood. All same, I show de way. Ma.s.sa hold Imbono him arm tight, berrah tight, pretend to lick, get little drop of blood on hand; dat nuff; Imbono pleased."

"If he's satisfied with that I'm willing, so fire away."

The chief beamed when he learnt that the white man had given his consent. The ceremony was quickly performed. Then Imbono handed them each a copper ring, and received in return a pinch of salt from Mr.

Martindale and a lucifer match from Jack, Nando a.s.suring them that no more acceptable presents could have been thought of. Imbono recited a sort of chant, which was explained to mean that he, his sons, his friends, the men of Ilola, from that time forth and for evermore would be the true friends of the white men; everything he had was theirs.

With a suitable reply from Mr. Martindale and Jack the ceremony ended.

Jack noticed when the chief had gone that Nando's face wore a somewhat woebegone look.

"What's the matter, Nando?" he asked.

"Nando berrah sick, sah. Imbono hab got present, ma.s.sa hab got present, little ma.s.sa hab got present all same; Nando hab got no present, no nuffin. Dat make Nando sick. Samba hab got Nando him knife: what for Nando no hab nuffin at all?"

"Seems to me he wants a commission on the transaction," said Mr.

Martindale with a smile. "Give him something, Jack; he's not a bad sort."

"I've got a lucky sixpence, uncle; he can string that round his neck.

Here you are, Nando."

The negro took the coin with delight.

"Bolotsi O!" he exclaimed. "Nando no sick no more. Him plenty comfy inside. All jolly nice now sah: oh yes!"

[1] Bully for you!

CHAPTER VIII

Jack in Command

"We've come out of that better than I expected," said Mr. Martindale, when the chief had gone. "I only hope our new brother won't carry his affection too far. If he keeps piling in food in this way, our fellows will wax fat and kick."

"You'll have to give him a hint, uncle. Proverbs are mostly old-fashioned rubbish, but there's one that would suit him: 'Enough is as good as a feast.'"

"Which no n.i.g.g.e.r would believe. Now I wonder when he will take us to find this ore. The sooner the better, although I calculate he doesn't know the value of time."

Imbono returned in the course of the afternoon, and said that he would be ready to conduct the white men to the gold region next day. But he stipulated that only his new brothers should accompany him. To this condition no one objected but Nando, who appeared to regard it as a personal slight.

"Berrah well, berrah well," he said, his tone suggesting that he washed his hands of the business. "Nando no go, ma.s.sa no can say nuffin to Imbono. Berrah well; all same."

Immediately after breakfast next morning the two set off in Imbono's company, Jack carried a prospector's pan for washing the soil, Mr.

Martindale having declared that he didn't expect to find nuggets lying around. They also carried enough food for the day. Imbono struck off due west from the village; then, when well out of sight, he made a detour, and pa.s.sing through a couple of miles of dense forest, entered a broken hilly country, which to Mr. Martindale's experienced eye showed many traces of volcanic disturbance. At last, forcing their way through a belt of tangled copse, with many scratches from p.r.i.c.kly sprays, they came upon a deep gully, at the bottom of which ran a stream of brownish water, now some twenty feet in breadth. That it was much broader at certain seasons was shown by the wide edging of sand and pebbles at each side.

The chief came to a halt at the edge of the gully, and pointing up and down the stream, said something in his own language. Mr. Martindale nodded his head, but said to Jack--

"I suppose he means we're right there. Why on earth could not he let Nando come and do the translating?"

"Show him your watch, uncle!"

At the sight of the watch Imbono nodded his head rapidly and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed what was clearly an affirmative. Then he led the way down the rocky side of the gully, the others scrambling after him. On reaching the sandy strand Mr. Martindale bent down and eagerly examined it. Taking some of the sand and pebbles in his hand, he stuck a magnifying gla.s.s in his eye and picked them over carefully.

"Looks promising, Jack," he said, with the enthusiasm of an old miner.

"There are little granules of quartz mixed up with the sand, and a particle or two of iron. But that don't prove there's gold. We'll just try a little experiment."

He emptied a few handfuls of the soil into the pan, filled this with water from the stream, and moved the pan to and fro so as to give the water a concentric motion, Jack and the chief watching him with equal interest. Every now and then Mr. Martindale would cant off a little of the water, which carried off some of the lighter sand with it.

"What you may call a process of elimination or reduction," he said.

"_Reductio ad absurdum_, uncle?"

"I hope not. Guess you're smartening up, Jack."

"Call it survival of the fittest, then."

"Of the thickest, I'd say. This washing carries off the useless light sand, and leaves the heavy stuff behind, and it's in that we'll find gold if at all."

After nearly half an hour's patient manipulation of the pan, there was left in the bottom a blackish powder and some coa.r.s.e grains of quartz, with just enough water to cover them.

"Look at that, my boy," said Mr. Martindale. "First time you've seen anything of that sort, I guess."