He watched the Zaire until she was a white speck on the placid face of the water; then he went to his hut.
Very carefully he removed the silver case from his neck and laid it in the palm of his hand.
"Now, little devil," he addressed it, "who watches the coming and going of men, I think I will learn all about you. O hanger of M'Kovo!"
He pressed the knob—he had once possessed a watch, and was wise in the way of stem springs—the case flew open, and showed him the little dials.
He shook the instrument violently, and heard a faint clicking. He saw a large hand move across the second of a circle.
Bearing the pedometer in his hand, he paced the length of the village street, and at every pace the instrument clicked and the hand moved. When he was still it did not move.
"Praise be to all gods!" said Bosambo. "Now I know you, O Talker! For I have seen your wicked tongue wagging, and I know the manner of your speech."
He made his way slowly back to his hut.
Before the door his new baby, the light of his eyes, sprawled upon a skin rug, clutching frantically at the family goat, a staid veteran, tolerant of the indignities which a small brown man-child might put upon him. Bosambo stopped to rub the child's little brown head and pat the goat's sleek neck.
Then he went into the hut, carefully removed the tell-tale instrument from the chain at his neck, and hid it with other household treasures in a hole beneath his bed.