The war-drum of the Ochori sounded. At dawn Bosambo led forty war canoes down the river, seized the first village that offered resistance and burnt it. He was for Ofesi's stronghold, and was half-way there when he met the tiny Grasshopper coming up stream.
At first he mistook it for the Zaire and made little effort to disclose the pacific intentions of his forty canoes, but a whistling rifle bullet aimed precisely made him realise the danger of taking things for granted.
He paddled forward alone, ostentatiously peaceable, and Jim received him.
"Rifles?" Coulson was incredulous. "O chief, you are mad!"
"Lord," said Bosambo earnestly, "let Sandi say if I be mad—for Sandi is my bro—is my master and friend," he corrected himself.
Jim knew of Bosambo—the chief enjoyed a reputation along the coast, and trusted him now.
He turned to his companion.
"If all Bosambo says is true there'll be hell in this country," he said quietly. "We can't cut and run. Can you use a rifle?" he asked.
Bosambo drew himself up.
"Suh," he said in plain English, "I make 'um shoot plenty at Cape Coast Cassell—I shoot 'um two bulls' eyes out."