Sanders saw things in a new light.
"It seems," he said, addressing the serried ranks of people who squatted about, "that there is discontent in your stomachs because I ask you for your taxes. We will have a palaver on this."
He sat down, and a grey old headman, a notorious litigant and a league-long speaker, rose up.
"Lord," he said dramatically, "justice!"
"Kwai!" cried the people in chorus.
The murmur, deep-chested and unanimous, made a low, rumbling sound like the roll of a drum.
"Justice!" said the headman. "For you, Sandi, are very cruel and harsh. You take and take and give us nothing, and the people cry out in pain."
He paused, and Sanders nodded.
"Go on," he said.
"Corn and fish, gum and rubber, we give you," said the spokesman; "and when we ask whither goes this money, you point to the puc-a-puc3 and your soldiers, and behold we are mocked. For your puc-a-puc comes only to take our taxes, and your soldiers to force us to pay."
Again the applauding murmur rolled.
"So we have had a palaver," said the headman, "and this we have said among ourselves: 'Let Sandi remit one-half our taxes; these we will bring in our canoes to the Village-by-the-Big-Water, for we are honest men, and let Sandi keep his soldiers and his puc-a-puc for the folk of the Isisi and the Akasava and the N'gombi, for these are turbulent and wicked people.'"
"Kwai!"
It was evidently a popular movement, and Sanders smiled behind his hand.
"As for us," said the headman, "we are peaceable folk, and live comfortably with all nations, and if any demand of us that we shall pay tribute, behold it will be better to give freely than to pay these taxes."
Sanders listened in silence, then he turned to the chief.
"It shall be as you wish," he said, "and I will remit one half of your taxation – the palaver is finished."
He went on board the Zaire that night and lay awake listening to the castanets of the dancing women – the Kiko made merry to celebrate the triumph of their diplomacy.
Sanders left next day for the Isisi, having no doubt in his mind that the news of his concession had preceded him. So it proved, for at Lukalili no sooner had he taken his place in the speech-house than the chief opened the proceedings.
"Lord Sandi," he began, "we are poor men, and our people cry out against taxation. Now, lord, we have thought largely on this matter, and this say the people: 'If your lordship would remit one-half our taxes we should be happy, for this puc-a-puc' – "
Sanders waved him down.
"Chiefs and people," he said, "I am patient, because I love you. But talk to me more about taxation and about puc-a-pucs, and I will find a new chief for me, and you will wish that you had never been born."
After that Sanders had no further trouble.
He came to the Ochori, and found Bosambo, wholly engrossed with his new baby, but ripe for action.
"Bosambo," said the Commissioner, after he had gingerly held the new-comer and bestowed his natal present, "I have a story to tell you."
He told his story, and Bosambo found it vastly entertaining.
Five days later, when Sanders was on his way home, Bosambo with ten picked men for paddlers, came sweeping up the river, and beached at Kiko city.
He was greeted effusively; a feast was prepared for him, the chief's best hut was swept clean.
"Lord Bosambo," said the Kiko chief, when the meal was finished, "I shall have a sore heart this night when you are gone."
"I am a kind man," said Bosambo, "so I will not go to-night, for the thought of your sorrow would keep sleep from my eyes."
"Lord," said the chief hastily, "I am not used to sorrow, and, moreover, I shall sleep heavily, and it would be shameful if I kept you from your people, who sigh like hungry men for your return."
"That is true," said Bosambo, "yet I will stay this night, because my heart is full of pleasant thoughts for you."
"If you left to-night," said the embarrassed chief, "I would give you a present of two goats."
"Goats," said Bosambo, "I do not eat, being of a certain religious faith – "
"Salt I will give you also," said the chief.
"I stay to-night," said Bosambo emphatically; "to-morrow I will consider the matter."
The next morning Bosambo went to bathe in the river, and returned to see the chief of the Kiko squatting before the door of his hut, vastly glum.
"Ho, Cetomati!" greeted Bosambo, "I have news which will gladden your heart."
A gleam of hope shone in the chief's eye.
"Does my brother go so soon?" he asked pointedly.
"Chief," said Bosambo acidly, "if that be good news to you, I go. And woe to you and your people, for I am a proud man, and my people are also proud. Likewise, they are notoriously vengeful."
The Kiko king rose in agitation.
"Lord," he said humbly, "my words are twisted, for, behold, all this night I have spent mourning in fear of losing your lordship. Now, tell me your good news that I may rejoice with you."
But Bosambo was frowning terribly, and was not appeased for some time.
"This is my news, O king!" he said. "Whilst I bathed I beheld, far away, certain Ochori canoes, and I think they bring my councillors. If this be so, I may stay with you for a long time – rejoice!"
The Kiko chief groaned.
He groaned more when the canoes arrived bringing reinforcements to Bosambo – ten lusty fighting men, terribly tall and muscular.
He groaned undisguisedly when the morrow brought another ten, and the evening some twenty more.
There are sayings on the river which are uncomplimentary to the appetites of the Ochori.
Thus: "Men eat to live fat, but the Ochori live to eat." And: "One field of corn will feed a village for a year, ten goats for a month, and an Ochori for a day."
Certainly Bosambo's followers were excellent trenchermen. They ate and they ate and they ate; from dawn till star time they alternated between the preparation of meals and their disposal. The simple folk of the Kiko stood in a wondering circle about them and watched in amazement as their good food vanished.
"I see we shall starve when the rains come," said the chief in despair.
He sent an urgent canoe to Sanders, but Sanders was without sympathy.
"Go to your master," he said to the envoy, "telling him that all these things are his palaver. If he does not desire the guests of his house, let him turn them away, for the land is his, and he is chief."
Cold comfort for Cetomati this, for the Ochori sat in the best huts, eating the best foods, finding the best places at the dance-fires.
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,