“Bigger than this one,” said MYalu suggestively.
“Bigger than this one.”
“Knowest thou by whom the girdle is tied?”
“By the grandson of the Snake.”
“Ehh!”
MYalu squatted motionless. The old man appeared to doze. Women bearing gourds of water upon their heads passed in single file, their loins swaying rhythmically. The shadows dwindled. From close at hand began the rapid beat of a drum. A stir began through the village as each man herded his women and slaves to his own hut.
“O Marufa,” said MYalu, speaking with a slight snarl, “hast thou such a powerful medicine that can surely trap the soul of Zalu Zako when perchance it wanders (in sleep)?”
“All things are possible to the son of MTungo,” mumbled the old man.
Two chiefs appeared walking through the grove at a middle distance. MYalu glanced round apprehensively.
“Two tusks will I give thee,” he whispered, “if thou wilt do this thing.”