Marufa, as all successful men, had a strain of luck. Before the shadows had crept a hand’s breadth came MYalu, indignant and exasperated. The three tusks had been paid and the footprint obtained; but he had discovered that it was no easy matter to procure the other ingredients which he suspected the wizard had known well and intended as a means to extract more ivory. After the ceremonious greetings he protested [pg 80] that the task given was almost impossible to execute. Marufa remained imperturbably interested in his wall.
“But as thou knowest,” insisted MYalu, “the hair and the toe-nail and the spittle of the Son of the Snake are more than difficult to obtain. Does a man so carelessly render himself unto his enemies, and he the Son of the Snake? None save one of his household could purloin a single hair. Even this morning was his hair shaved and the remnants, as thou knowest well, deposited in the temple with him who was his father.”
“The hair, the toe-nail, and the spittle,” mumbled the old man, “must I have for such mighty magic.”
“Ehh!” snorted MYalu, “with a man of the clay, but with one who is half divine, the Son of the Snake! Ehh!”
“The bow is useless without the arrows,” mumbled the old man.
“Tsch. ’Tis a mighty hunter that hath not the arrows for his bow,” sneered MYalu.
“Verily,” retorted Marufa disinterestedly, “and still more a mighty man who cannot do his own hunting!”
“No warrior hath been purified more frequently than I,” boasted MYalu, referring to the ceremony incumbent upon those who have taken life to appease the ghosts of the slain.
“The spirits obey not the crowing of a cockerel,” reminded Marufa.
“Tsch!” For a while both sat silent, MYalu gloomily watching a hen.