“Indeed thy words are white, O son of the Lord-of-many-Lands.”
“Depart then that the hunger of His fingers may be appeased.”
“The drums speak not yet of the eating up of Eyes-in-the-hands. Hath not the ear of the spirit of Tarum spoken upon these matters?” inquired Bakahenzie in his favourite dialectical manner.
“The spirit of Tarum hath naught to say to thee,” replied Birnier, “but the fingers of Tarum will to make thee to itch even as his fingers.”
Birnier called to Mungongo who brought and placed at his feet a fairly powerful electric battery. Bakahenzie eyed the box; curiosity was keenly awakened. He stared interestedly when Birnier raised the lid. Taking the handles he said:
“These, O son of Maliko, are the hands of Tarum made manifest. He wishes that thou shouldst feel the itch of his desire!” and with the words he clapped one handle to the belly and the other at the base of the spine of the chief witch-doctor. Bakahenzie convulsed as he was compelled to do. Swiftly Birnier applied the shock to the shoulders, holding the handles there as he remarked to a violently trembling Bakahenzie: “Behold! the itch of the fingers of Tarum!”
But as he lowered his hands towards the spine again, Bakahenzie moved rapidly and with no dignity.
Solemnly Birnier replaced the handles and closed the lid, and said quietly:
“Thou hast felt, O brother magician, that the fingers of Tarum do itch indeed?”
“Truly!” responded Bakahenzie with a celerity as unusual as the quaver in his voice. “Indeed thy words are white, O mightiest of magicians. What are indeed the evil eyes of savages against the power of thy magic, O son of the Lord-of-many-Lands!”