Gorilla would then cry like a whipped child, and would go again into the plantation, to bring some more fruit into the house, but when he returned with it he would always boast of what he was going to do, and cry out “Ha, ha!” and instantly his unseen enemy would mock him and cry “Ha, ha!” and he would start up raving and screaming in rage, and search for him, and in his absence his bananas would be whisked away. And Gorilla’s hunger grew on him, until his paunch became like an empty sack, and what with his hunger and grief and rage, and furious raving and racing about, his strength was at last quite exhausted, and the end of him was that on the fifth day he fell from weakness across the threshold of the chief’s house, which he had chosen to make his nest, and there died.
When the people of the next village heard of how Kinneneh, a little boy, had conquered the man-killing gorilla, they brought him and his mother away, and they gave him a fine new house and a plantation, and male and female slaves to tend it, and when their old king died, and the period of mourning for him was over, they elected wise Kinneneh to be king over them.
“Ah, friends,” said Safeni to his companions, after Kadu had concluded his story, “there is no doubt that the cunning of a son of man prevails over the strongest brute, and it is well for us, Mashallah! that it should be so; for if the elephant, or the lion, or the gorilla possessed but cunning equal to their strength, what would become of us!”
And each man retired to his hut, congratulating himself that he was born a man-child, and not a thick, muddle-headed beast.
Chapter Seventeen.
The City of the Elephants.
“Master,” said Kassim, one of the Basoko boys, “Baruti’s tales have brought back from among forgotten things a legend I once knew very well. Ah, I wish I could remember more, but little by little the stories that I used to hear in my childhood from my mother and the old woman who would come and sit with her, will perhaps return again into the mind. I should never have thought of this that I am about to repeat to you now had it not been that Baruti’s legends seem to recall as though they were but yesterday the days that came and went uncounted in our Basoko village. This legend is about the City of the Elephants that one of my countrymen and his wife came across in the far past time, in the manner that I shall tell you.”