Bosambo drew a long breath.
"Now I will tell you something," he said, lowering his voice. "Against my old age and the treachery of a disloyal people I have stored great stores of ivory. I have taken this ivory from my people. I have won it in bloody battles. I have hunted many elephants. Siskolo, my brother," he went on, speaking under stress of emotion, "all this I give you because I love you and my beautiful relations. Go now in peace, but do not return, for when my people learn that you are seeking the treasures of the nation they will not forgive you and, though I am their chief, I cannot hold them."
All through the night they sat, Bosambo mournful but informative, Siskolo a-quiver with excitement.
At dawn the brother left by water for the border-line of the Isisi, where five trees grew in the form of a crescent.
* * * * *
"Lord," said Bosambo, a bitter and an injured man, "I have been a Christian, a worshipper of devils, a fetish man, and now I am of the true faith—though as to whether it is true I have reason to doubt." He stood before Sanders at headquarters.
Away down by the little quay on the river his sweating paddlers were lying exhausted, for Bosambo had come by the river day and night.
Sanders did not speak. There was a twinkle in his eye, and a smile hovered at the corners of his mouth.
"And it seems to me," said Bosambo tragically, "that none of the gods loves me."
"That is your palaver," said Sanders, "and remember your brother loves you more than ever."