“Mustn’t, Major, mustn’t. Priests tell me that. If those girls see you without mask, perhaps they kill them. Wait till they gone after supper, then take it off. No one allowed see you without mask except Asika herself.”
Alan stepped to one of the wooden bowls full of water which stood under a lamp, and gazed at his own reflection. The mask was gilded; the sham lips were painted red and round the eye-holes were black lines.
“Why, it is horrible,” he exclaimed, starting back. “I look like a devil crossed with Guy Fawkes. Do you mean to tell me that I have got to live in this thing?”
“Afraid so, Major, upon all public occasion. At least they say that. You holy, not lawful see your sacred face.”
“Who do the Asiki think I am, then, Jeekie?”
“They think you your reverend uncle come back after many, many year. You see, Major, they not believe uncle run away with Little Bonsa; they believe Little Bonsa run away with uncle just for change of air and so on, and that now, when she tired of strange land, she bring him back again. That why you so holy, favourite of Little Bonsa who live with you all this time and keep you just same age, bloom of youth.”
“In Heaven’s name,” asked Alan, exasperated, “what is Little Bonsa, beyond an ancient and ugly gold fetish?”
“Hush,” said Jeekie, “mustn’t call her names here in her own house. Little Bonsa much more than fetish, Little Bonsa alive, or so,” he added doubtfully, “these silly niggers say. She wife of Big Bonsa, who you see, to-morrow p’raps. But their story this, that she get dead sick of Big Bonsa and bolt with white Medicine man, who dare preach she nothing but heathen idol. She want show him whether or no she only idol. That the yarn, priests tell it me to-day. They always watch for her there by the edge of the lake. They always sure Little Bonsa come back. Not at all surprised, but as she love you once, you stop holy; and I holy also, thank goodness, because she take me too as servant. Therefore we sleep in peace, for they not cut our throats, at any rate at present, though I think,” he added mournfully, “they not let us go either.”
Alan sat down on a stool and groaned at the appalling prospect suggested by this information.
“Cheer up, Major,” said Jeekie sympathetically. “Perhaps manage hook it somehow, and meanwhile make best of bad business and have high old time. You see you want to come Asiki-land, though I tell you it rum place, and,” he added with certitude and a circular sweep of his hand, “by Jingo! you here now and I daresay they give you all the gold you want.”