“Now get hold of yourself, Chuba. Steady. We’re right here. What’s inside your cabin that’s so frightening?”
Chuba’s voice trembled as he spoke. “The evil ones. They come. They come to punish Chuba and the father of Chuba.”
“The evil ones? What are you talking about?” Jack’s voice was firm, but his tone was kind. He had to quiet this boy’s fears.
“It has been spoken,” Chuba said, his voice trembling. “Many, many years ago, the gods spoke to the ancestors of my father. They said”—and here the boy’s voice almost broke—“they said that evil will befall any member of the House of Chin Fu who leaves his land to become a slave of the white man.”
Biff watched the boy. He felt sympathy toward him, yet it was hard for Biff to believe that such superstitious beliefs could still cast their spell in these modern days.
“That’s nonsense, Chuba. You and your father are not slaves. You are honorable workers. Without your help, we could not live here. You are well paid, and you hold positions of responsibility and dignity. Enough of this. Just what is inside your cabin?”
“Chuba not know. But is bad. Very bad. It is voices of the evil ones, casting spell on Chuba and his honorable father.”
“All right. Come on and show us what it is.”
“Please, Sahib Jack. You to go first.”
“Okay. Come on, Biff.”