"Bring us some weapons—four knives, four spears, four bows and some arrows. Will you do that for me, Paabu?"
"I am afraid. Galla Galla would kill me. Intamo would kill me, if he knew I come here and speak with you."
"They will never know," insisted Doc.
"I am afraid," said Paabu. "Now I go."
"Look!" whispered Doc. He drew his pocket knife from his loin cloth. "See this?" and he held the big medicine close to Paabu's face.
The youth drew back in terror. "Do not put it in my head!" he whimpered.
"I will not put it in your head, Paabu," Doc assured him, "because I am your friend, but I will give it to you, if you will bring us the weapons. How would you like to own this big medicine that is stronger than any medicine that Intamo can make? You could be a great witch-doctor if you owned this, Paabu. What do you say?"
"It will not hurt me?" asked Paabu, fearfully.
"It will not hurt you, if I tell it not to," replied Doc. "If I give it to you, then it will be yours and so cannot hurt you unless you make it."
"Very well," said Paabu. "I will bring you the weapons."