"Father," said Elebi, dangling strips of red flannel from his hand, "this is white man's magic, we come back by the way we go."
Then the old man fell into an insane fit of cursing, and threw at them a thousand deaths, and Elebi's followers huddled back in frowning fear.
"You have lived too long," said Elebi gently, and passed his spear through the old man's neck.
They found the ivory two days' journey beyond the place of killing. It was buried under a mound, which was overgrown with rank vegetation, and there was by European calculation some £50,000 worth.
"We will go back and find carriers," said Elebi, "taking with us as many of the teeth as we can carry."
Two hours later the party began its return journey, following the path where at intervals of every half-mile a strip of scarlet flannelette hung from a twig.
There were many paths they might have taken, paths that looked as though they had been made by the hand of man, and Elebi was glad that he had blazed the way to safety.
For eight hours the caravan moved swiftly, finding its direction with no difficulty; then the party halted for the night.
Elebi was awakened in the night by a man who was screaming, and he leapt up, stirring the fire to a blaze.