“It shall not be celebrated,” said Juanna, almost fiercely.
Then Leonard, who had hitherto listened in silence, asked a question through Juanna. “How is it,” he said, “that Nam and his fellows, being already in absolute power, were so willing to accept the gods Jâl and Aca when they appeared in person, seeing that henceforth they must obey, not rule?”
“For two reasons, lord,” Olfan answered; “first, because the gods are gods, and their servants know them; and secondly, because Nam has of late stood in danger of losing his authority. Of all the chief priests that have been told of, Nam is the most cruel and the most greedy. For three years he has doubled the tale of sacrifices, and though the people love these sights of death, they murmur, for none know upon whom the knife shall fall. Therefore he was glad to greet the gods come back, since he thought that they would confirm his power, and set him higher than he sat before. Now he is astonished because they proclaim peace and will have none of the sacrifice of men, for Nam does not love such gentle gods.”
“Yet he shall obey them,” said Otter, speaking for the first time by the mouth of Juanna, who all this while was acting as interpreter, “or drink his own medicine, for I myself will sacrifice him to myself.”
When Juanna had translated the dwarf’s bloodthirsty threat, Olfan bowed his head meekly and smiled; clearly the prospect of Nam’s removal did not cause him unmixed grief. It was curious to see this stately warrior chief humbling his pride before the misshapen, knob-nosed Kaffir.
“Say, Olfan,” asked Leonard, “who cut from the rock the great statue on which we sat last night, and what is that reptile we saw when the woman was thrown into the pool of troubled waters?”
“Ask the Water-dweller of the water-dweller, the Snake of the snake, and the Dwarf of his image,” answered Olfan, nodding towards Otter. “How can I, who am but a man, tell of such things, lord? I only know that the statue was fashioned in the far past, when we, who are now but a remnant, were a great people; and as for the Snake, he has always lived there in his holy place. Our grandfather’s grandfathers knew him, and since that day he has not changed.”
“Interesting fact in natural history,” said Leonard; “I wish I could get him home alive to the Zoological Gardens.”
Then he asked another question. “Tell me, Olfan, what became of the red stones yesterday, and of him who offended in offering them to the god yonder?”
“The most of them were cast into the pit of waters, lord, there to be hidden for ever. There were three hide sacks full.”