Notwithstanding his peril a ripple of mirth ran through the listener, as he grasped what the speaker was feeling around—and which meant that that unlearned savage had by some means or other obtained a glimpse into the church at Buluwayo what time his travelling companion was exercising his sacerdotal functions, and was now recording his impressions of that experience.
“But Qubani—he too is an isanusi” said another voice. “He can match his power against that of this white one. Is it not so, Qubani, thou wise one?”
And from the tone, the listener gathered that the man addressed was held in great respect. It inspired in him no surprise, only rekindled interest, for he had heard of this Qubani as an isanusi of some renown.
“Meddle not with the white isanusi” was the laconic but decided answer. It was received with a hum of respectful assent, followed by a moment of silence.
“And the other, U’ Lamónti. Shall we not kill him, my father?”
Again the listener’s nerves thrilled as he crept a little more forward to catch the answer. It came.
“He may not be hurt—not now. He is under the protection of the white isanusi.”
This dictum was accepted without question, and, very considerably relieved in his mind, Lamont was preparing to creep away, when a new discussion arose, and the first few words of it were of so momentous and startling a nature, that he decided to remain and hear more—and that at any risk. And such risk became graver and graver with every moment.