“Come to me, and let me look at thee.”
The fisherman’s fear came back to him, but he did as he was told, and when he thought he was near enough, he stood still.
Then the gorilla said:
“If thou art kin to me, thou art safe from harm; if not, thou canst not pass. How many fingers hast thou?” he asked.
“Four,” the fisherman answered, and he held a hand up with its back towards the gorilla, and his thumb was folded in on the palm so that it could not be seen by the beast.
“Ay—true indeed. Why, thou must be a kinsman of ours, though thy fur is somewhat scanty. Sit down and take thy share of this food, and eat.”
The fisherman sat down, and broke off bananas from the stalk and ate heartily.
“Now mind,” said the gorilla, “thou hast eaten food with me. Shouldst thou ever meet in thy wanderings any of my brothers, thou must be kind to them in memory of this day. Our tribe has no quarrel with any of thine, and thy tribe must have none against any of mine. I live alone far down this river, and thy tribe lives further still. Mind our password, ‘Tu-wheli, Tu-wheli.’ By that we know who is friendly and who is against us.”
The fisherman departed, and speeding on his way reached his village safely; but he kept secret what he had seen and met that day.
Some little time after, the tribe resolved to have a grand hunt around their village, to scare the beasts of the forest away; for in some things they resemble us. If we leave a district undisturbed for a moon or so, the animals think that we have either departed the country or are afraid of them. The apes and the elephants are the worst in that respect, and always lead the way, pressing on our heels, and often sending their scouts ahead to report, or as a hint to us that we are lingering too long.