Mr. Ransome nodded. Then addressing Chief Namla in a firm voice, he said:
“O Chief Namla, the fame of your land has drawn my companion here that he may see its wonders and carry back with him to the land of the white man across the mighty ocean a picture of all that he beholds. He has with him a magic machine which when pointed at a man, an animal or a mountain while the magician sets it in motion takes the likeness of that man or animal or mountain so that others thousands of miles distant may see and behold the same thing that he sees and beholds. This is a great magic, yet it does not take away anything from the man or animal or mountain and does not harm them in any way. He prays that you will permit him and his magician to travel in your country and point this machine at whatever pleases him. In return he offers such valuable objects as are fitting for so mighty and powerful a ruler as Chief Namla.”
Then, while the interpreter put this into the native dialect, Mr. Ransome bade the bearers to bring forward the trade goods to be offered the chief. Bundle after bundle was opened and laid at the chief’s feet, consisting of many yards of gaudy cotton prints, bundles of brass stair rods, an entire box of fezzes both red and blue, a small set of dishes of gaudiest flowered pattern and, finally, topping the heap, a trade gun and box of cartridges.
Not until the last appeared did Chief Namla who stood with folded arms, relax his frowning expression. Then his eyes gleamed covetously, and for the first time he spoke.
“Let the white strangers rest in the guest house,” he said. “I shall let them know presently what I decide.”
The interpreter hastened to repeat this but almost before he had concluded speaking the wrinkled old wizard interrupted with a gabble of words, while again from beneath his robe sounded that mysterious rattling.
“Him say Chief Namla tell white men a’ right,” announced the interpreter hastily. Then he added on his own account: “Me think Wizard no want. Chief go talk somebody.”
“The Prophet,” said Mr. Ransome emphatically, and Mr. Hampton nodded agreement. “You’re right, Hampton. Mfum-ba fears the influence of The Prophet over the chief.”
Nevertheless, that the chief intended to adhere to his resolve was soon apparent. For thrusting the old wizard aside impatiently, as if angered by his importunities, he indicated to some women who came running forward that the presents to him should be borne away, and then turned without more words and strode in the direction of a hut somewhat larger than the rest at one side of the square.
For the moment there was nothing to do except obey. And as the warriors melted away at a sharp command flung over Chief Narnia’s shoulder, Mr. Hampton and Mr. Ransome followed several women who approached and told the interpreter they were to lead the party to the guest house. This proved to be a commodious hut, entirely of grass, both walls and roof, standing on the right of the large hut into which the chief had disappeared and separated from it only by a narrow passage some eight feet in width.