“Those children of folly have not obeyed,” whispered Birnier. “The time is come.… Wait here for me, O Mungongo. I go to take my spirit form. When I return be not afraid!”
“Truly,” answered Mungongo, as Birnier crawled away and down the bank. By the water’s edge he swiftly stripped himself to his moccasins and taking out the wax vestas, damped each precious one and carefully rubbed lines over his face and body, endeavouring to get the most distinctive phosphorescent effect around the eyes. Leaving his clothes he crawled back to Mungongo.
“Ehh!” exclaimed Mungongo in a muffled scream when he saw the glowing apparition. Birnier heard the rustle of grass. As the boy stood up to run he leaped and pulled him down savagely.
“Be quiet, thou fool!” he whispered. “It is I. Be silent!”
“Eh! Eh!” gasped Mungongo, who was trembling violently.
“If thou dost not be quiet will I tie up thy heart,” threatened Birnier.
Mungongo continued to quiver, but he remained passive.
“Eh! Eh!” he gasped, “truly thou art a more mighty magician than Bakahenzie.”
“Be quiet!”
The drums and the song were still going and the chant had become more obscene.