"What manner of magic?"
"Lord, it is a magic with whiteness," and he exhibited his hand proudly.
Straight across the reddish-brown palm was an irregular streak of white paint.
"This the lord Bosambo did," he said, "and, behold, every day this remains will be fortunate for me."
Sanders regarded the sign with every evidence of strong emotion.
Two months before Sanders had sent many tins of white paint with instructions to the Ochori chief that his men should seek out the boundary posts of his kingdom—and particularly those that impinged upon foreign territories—and restore them to startling freshness.
"Many people of the Isisi, N'gombi, and Akasava go to Bosambo," the little chief continued; "for, behold, this magic of Bosambo's wipes away all soil. And if a man has been guilty of wickedness he is released of punishment. I," he added proudly, "once killed my wife's father cala cala, and frequently I have sorrowed because of this and because my wife often reminds me. Now, lord, I am a clean man, so clean that when the woman spoke to me this morning about my faraway sin, I hit her with my spear, knowing that I am now innocent."
Sanders thought rapidly.
"And what do you pay Bosambo for this?" he asked.
"Nothing, lord," said the man.