Stasch, who saw on the floor of the hut a large drum made out of a hollowed-out tree, and covered with a monkey-skin, made Kali give it to him, and turning around, he stood facing the warriors, looking straight into their eyes:
“Hear, O people!” he said in a loud, resounding voice; “it was not your Msimu who roared, but only that villain there, who pounds the drum to wring presents from you, and you are as afraid of him as children!”
At these words he took hold of the string which was drawn through the dried skin of the drum and began to pull at it and twist it with all his might. The same sounds which had terrified the negroes before now rang out again, only much louder, for the walls of the hut did not smother them.
“Oh, how foolish are M’Rua and his children!” cried Kali.
Stasch handed him the drum, and Kali beat so frantically that for a while one could not hear one’s self talk. When he tired of this he threw the drum at M’Rua’s feet, and ’mid shrieks of laughter said:
“That thing is your Msimu!”
Then, chattering, after the custom of negroes, he addressed the warriors, and was by no means sparing in expressing his contempt for them and for M’Rua, and in holding them up to ridicule. He pointed to Kamba and explained to them that “this thief in the rat-skin cap” had deceived them for many a rainy and dry season, and that they had rewarded him by feeding him with beans, young goats, and honey. Is it possible that there could be a more stupid king and a more stupid people than these? They believed in the power of an old witch and in his witchcraft, and now they see how this great sorcerer hangs from the trunk of an elephant and cries “Aka!” begging mercy of the white man. Where is his power now? Where is his witchcraft? Why does Msimu not roar to protect him? Ah, what sort of thing is your Msimu? A strip of monkey skin and a piece of a rotten tree-trunk, which the elephant has destroyed. Neither the women nor the children of the Wa-himas would have been afraid of such a Msimu, and M’Rua and his men were afraid of it! There is only one real Msimu and one really great and powerful man, and to him they ought to show respect and bring as many presents as they can, for otherwise they will be afflicted with misfortunes such as they had never dreamed of.
This harangue to the negroes was quite unnecessary, for the sorcerer with his wicked Msimu had proved himself to be weaker than the new god in such an extraordinary manner, and Stasch satisfied them so well, that they forswore their allegiance to the sorcerer and covered him with shame. Again they cried out, “Yancig!” even more humbly and earnestly than before. They were so angry now with themselves for having been deceived by Kamba during many years that they insisted on killing him. M’Rua begged Stasch to let them bind him and keep him until they had invented a death of dreadful torture for him. But Nell decided to spare his life, and as Kali had told them that no human blood could be shed in presence of the good Msimu, Stasch only permitted them to drive the unhappy sorcerer from the village with shame and ignominy.
Kamba, who feared he would be put to death by their cleverly devised tortures, fell on his face before the good Msimu, and weeping bitterly, thanked her for his deliverance. From this time forth there was nothing to mar the awe they inspired. Women and children now came from behind the fence, for the news of the extraordinary guest had already spread throughout the entire village, and the desire to see the white Msimu was greater than their fear of her. For the first time in their lives Stasch and Nell saw a settlement of real savages, who had never been visited even by Arabs. The clothing of these negroes consisted only of heather aprons or of a skin wound around the hips, and every one was tattooed. The men as well as the women had their ears pierced, and through these holes they had thrust such long pieces of wood or bone that the lobes of their ears were drawn down to their shoulders. In their lower lips they wore a lip-ring, a round piece of wood or bone the size of a saucer. Those of highest rank, such as warriors and their wives, wore around their necks steel or brass wire collars, so high and stiff that they could scarcely turn their heads.
They evidently belonged to the Schilluk tribe, which reached far toward the east, for Kali and Mea knew their language well, and Stasch could understand some things they said. Their legs were not so long as those of their compatriots who live in the district of the Nile; they were of shorter stature, their shoulders were broader, and they looked less like wattle-birds. The children resembled large fleas, and not being disfigured by the pelele, they were decidedly better looking than the grown people.