arrived.

He came down from the high ground and skirted the village until he came to the path from Sijoba. Then he turned and walked boldly towards the cluster of huts. The dogs began to bark loudly but it didn't matter now: was he not a stranger travelling from Sijoba to Katora?

He made his way to Chiromo's hut. The door was closed. Mokorongo knocked.

"Who is it?"

"A stranger travelling from Sijoba to Katora."

"It is late, what do you want?"

"Yes, it is late. I ask for shelter for the night. I am in luck, for I have found meat and I ask shelter of a friend."

There was a stir in the hut and the word meat was repeated several times.

Mokorongo stood ready with the open handcuffs. Would the man never come out? Meanwhile the occupants of adjacent huts were also astir and doors were being opened. There would be many witnesses to the arrest of Chiromo.

At length the door of the hut slid aside, a hand grasped either door post and a woolly head appeared. Quick as lightning Mokorongo seized Chiromo's right wrist and snapped the lock of the handcuff. Grasping the black head, he pulled the startled Chiromo out of the doorway, and before the witch doctor had recovered from his surprise, also secured his left hand.

Mokorongo stepped back and surveyed his captive.

Chiromo said nothing, but the look in his eye made Mokorongo's hand fly to the paperweight. The village was astir, and men came running, but, seeing the uniform of authority, stood still.

Mokorongo was himself again. "What is this?" demanded Chiromo.

"The Morena calls you."

"What for?"

"How should I know the Morena's thoughts?"

"Loose my hands or ill-luck will come to you."

Mokorongo said nothing.

"Listen," said Chiromo.

Mokorongo listened and heard the laugh of a hyena.

"That," said Chiromo, "is a spirit."

Mokorongo clutched his paperweight: "It is a beast, and my master's medicine is strong."

Chiromo looked round at the circle of fellow villagers; he could not see their eyes, but felt that no help might be expected from them; they would not come between him and a Government man.

Chiromo tried again.

"In my hut I have much white man's money and a gun—all are yours if you will untie my hands; moreover, the iron hurts me and the Morena's orders are that no man be hurt."

The mention of the money and the gun reminded Mokorongo of the medicine.

"Go in," he said, pushing Chiromo before him.

It is well that Mokorongo had the paperweight to support his courage.

III.

A fire smouldered in a circular hearth in the middle of the floor, but the light from it was so dim that nothing more was visible. Mokorongo, kneeling deftly, drew together the unburnt sticks and blew upon the pile; the suddenness with which it burst into flame startled him. Then he rose and looked round the hut.

Chiromo had walked over to his bed; he now sat watching.

The blackened walls were profusely decorated with rude drawings, done in light clay, of men and beasts, with here and there a pattern such as one sees on primitive earthenware vessels. From the roof, suspended by a length of plaited bark, dangled the skull of a human being. Mokorongo had seen many human skulls in his time, but, in such a place, this ghastly human relic unnerved him a little. The skull spun slightly with the air current which entered the open door, and ghostly eyes seemed to peer from the empty sockets, first at one man, then at the other, as if the lifeless thing were taking a lively interest in the situation.

Mokorongo pretended to scratch himself; what he really did was to shift the paperweight until it rested under his left arm. In that position he could press it to him without being noticed. The relief it brought was great and lasting.

From a peg in the wall hung a mummified mass of what looked suspiciously like entrails; whether human or not the messenger did not pause to consider. The fleshless forearm and hand of a child protruded from the thatch; the fingers were spread out as in the act of grasping. A pile of mouldering skins lay on the floor, and beside it a little heap of dead chameleons; one, more lately killed than the rest, contributed generously to the evil smell which pervaded the hut. Just above this carrion was a cluster of black and red weevils as large as mice; they hung from a porcupine quill, each tied to it by a thin strand of twisted sinew. The aimless movements of legs showed that some of the insects were still alive. Here and there, propped against the wall, were gourds and pots filled, no doubt, with strange nauseous mixtures brewed by the witch doctor for his evil purposes.

Well-worn clothing and filthy rags hung from pegs thrust into the thatch where the roof of the hut rested on the mud wall. The bleeding head and slimy skin of a freshly killed goat lay on the floor at the foot of the bed. Just beyond it was a large basket covered loosely with a leopard skin; Mokorongo made a mental note of this.

If Chiromo expected his guard to show any sign of fear, he was disappointed. Mokorongo drew a small stool towards him, and sat down; with the exception of the bed, it was the only furniture in the hut.

The witch doctor was the first to speak:

"The gun is yours, father, and the money, when you untie my hands so that I may get them for you."

"I have two guns in my village," replied the messenger, "and I also have much money, for as I am a servant of the Government, I pay no tax."

"Can a man have too much money or too many guns?"

"I cannot say; but, as for me, I have enough."

"How many wives have you?" asked Chiromo.

The messenger did not answer. Such talk did not trouble him. He was a simple African, whose one desire was to please his master; he was proof against bribery in any form.

Chiromo tried other tactics.

"Yesterday, they say, I killed a man by charms. It is said also that many men have died by poison. People fall sick, some say, when I think of them in anger. It well may be that your master has fallen sick, for my anger is strong towards him, and is rising against his servant, who has tied me."

Mokorongo hugged the talisman, but did not reply. He glanced at the skull which at that moment swung towards him, then at the hand which, in the flicker of the firelight, seemed to reach out to grasp at him. He looked at the chameleons, and spat on the floor as he became aware of the stench arising from them; next, the aimless waving of the weevils' legs attracted his attention, and then his glance rested on the basket covered with the leopard skin.

Chiromo was about to speak again, but Mokorongo, springing to his feet, interrupted him. His master had said: "Bring Chiromo back with you, and bring his medicines." The basket must hold those medicines; moreover, the prospect of listening to Chiromo until the morning, seated in the midst of his evil properties, was unthinkable. He would feel more at his ease walking through the night, although it was so dark and cold.

He went to the door and called. There was no reply. The village was full of people, but they had a very real fear of what the witch doctor might do. All had crept back to their huts. He called again, and in the name of the Government, but still none came.

He shouted, that the whole village might hear: "I take Chiromo to our Chief. Bring a rope, that I may tie him and lead him through the night."

Presently a woman appeared, bringing in her hand a stout rope such as all natives use for trapping antelope. She handed it to Mokorongo, volunteering the information that it was her son whom Chiromo had killed. She did not