For the maddening thing was that the slip of filched territory was less than a hundred yards wide and men of the Lombobo, who went out by night to widen it, never came out alive—for Bosambo also had a guard.
Sometimes the minion spies of Government would come to headquarters with a twist of rice paper stuck in a quill, the quill inserted in the lobes of the ear in very much the same place as the ladies wore their earrings in the barbarous mid-Victorian period, and on the rice paper with the briefest introduction would be inserted, in perfect Arabic, scraps of domestic news for the information of the Government.
Sometimes news would carry from mouth to mouth and a weary man would squat before Hamilton and recite his lesson.
"Efobi of the Isisi has stolen goats, and because he is the brother of the chief's wife goes unpunished; T'mara of the Akasava has put a curse upon the wife of O'femo the headman, and she has burnt his hut; N'kema of the Ochori will not pay his tax, saying that he is no Ochori man, but a true N'gombi; Bosambo's men have beaten a woodman of B'limi Saka, because he planted trees on Ochori land; the well folk are on the edge of the N'gomb forest, building huts and singing——"
"How long do they stay?" interrupted Hamilton.
"Lord, who knows?" said the man.
"Ogibo of the Akasava has spoken evilly of his king and mightily of himself——"
"Make a note of that, Bones."
"Make a note of which, sir?"
"Ogibo—he looked like a case of sleep-sickness the last time I was in his village—go on."