“Mo! Mo!” he cried; and then came a flood of native, intermingled with the wildest gestures. The ugly little man beat the air with his hands, thumped himself in the ribs, jumped up and down till the feathers on his head waved like cocoanut leaves in a hurricane, and all the time yelled, chattered, gasped and choked. Mo, who had come down the ladder again at the first word, stood looking at the furious little creature with an absolutely inexpressive face.
“What’s he saying?” I asked our interpreter, Koppi Koko.
The native’s face grew purposely blank and dull. “I no savvy,” he said.
“You do savvy,” I told him, beginning to unbuckle my belt.
“I savvy, I savvy,” he cried nervously. “Savvy little bit. That fellow man, him telling Mo some one make gammon along him, he no like. That fellow, he brother along Mo. ’Fore God, Taubada [master], I no more I savvy.”
He seemed a good deal scared about something, and when a Papuan is thoroughly scared, you may leave him alone for all you will get out of him. I said no more, and the furious little man, after a final jump and yell, shoved something into Mo’s hand and bolted away under the house like a rat. The sorcerer put his hand into his string bag for a moment, drew it out empty and mounted the ladder once more.
You could not tell what he thought, or if he thought anything, so complete was the veil of indifference he had drawn over his face. He had of course heard of our arrival in the village, so I was not surprised at his taking our visit as calmly as he did. But I did not—quite—like the way he had accepted the plaint of the bat-eared little man.
The rickety floor of sago-sheath creaked and dipped as Mo strode up the building. He went straight to where the Marquis and I were standing, folded his arms over his breast and uttered something in native that was evidently a greeting. The Marquis bowed, took his hand and shook it. I nodded at him. Mo turned aside a minute to hang up the hollow bamboo he carried so carefully (we could see it was plugged at one end with wood), and then swept Koppi Koko to him with a gesture of one hand.
We were great chiefs, no doubt, he said; he was glad we had come to see his village. Did we belong to the Government?
We assured him we did not—knowing that Kata-Kata had probably been saving up a good long score to settle with His Majesty’s representatives, since the last punitive expedition. This great chief, I said (through Koppi Koko), had come a very long way from his village, which was many, many moons away, to see Mo and hear about his wonderful doings. If Mo would show him any sorcery, he would give much tobacco and salt and beads, and other treasures. And (since sorcery is illegal) he would promise not to tell the Government anything about it.