The chief and his men drew near very much as whipped dogs would have done. Within ten yards of Tom's hut they flung themselves on their faces, and wriggled their way with ludicrous contortions towards him. He thought it a good opportunity for teaching the whole village a salutary lesson, so he summoned the people by beat of drum, and ordered them to stand round. Then he severely asked the fawning chief his name and business.
"O Kuboko, great master, my name is Uchunku," said the man. "I am weaker than a dog, smaller than a flea. Nothing that I have but is mine by the mercy of Kuboko. I have heard of Kuboko's mighty power, and I fall on my face, for no man can stand upright in the presence of the man of big medicine. I have heard, O Kuboko, of the wonderful thrower that casts mountains as high as the very stars of heaven; and of the mighty flood that flowed from the hollow of Kuboko's hand, and upon which the Arabs were swept away even as leaves upon the torrent. All this have I heard, and more, and I come to put my neck under Kuboko's foot, and beg him to gird my village about with his mighty magic."
Tom let the man grovel there, and paused before he answered. Then he upbraided him for his meanness and folly in refusing help to his neighbour Barega when in dire extremity, and declared that he deserved to be left to meet single-handed the devastating Arabs.
"You are a coward, Uchunku," he said. "You stood aloof from your neighbour in distress, and then, when you find that all your other neighbours have seen the wisdom of joining my people and accepting my leadership, you come and whine like a puppy to be taken in. I will have mercy on you; I will admit you to our confederacy; but you will have to prove yourself worthy. You will be given no place of trust, your men will not be allowed to bear arms, until you have shown that you are loyal, and ready to carry out all my commands."
The miserable chief abjectly promised to do anything, even the most menial work, to merit Kuboko's favour. Tom cut him short, bade him get up, and ordered him to attend the palaver next day with all his men.
Tom would have been more than human if he had not felt a thrill and glow of pride next day, when, at the appointed mote-hill, he found a great concourse of natives awaiting him. The three chiefs of the former palaver had most effectively fulfilled his instructions. Each had brought a group of petty chiefs, and each of these had come with several of his warriors, so that the whole assembly numbered nearly three hundred men, armed in their several ways. They were Bantu negroes of various races, some of them tall, splendid specimens of humanity, some short and thick-set, all muscular and in the pink of physical condition. Until Tom came in sight with his small escort, they had kept up a constant chatter, the sound of which travelled across the country like the noise of a vast army of rooks or gulls. But as Tom ascended the hill a silence fell upon the throng. Hundreds of eyes looked curiously at the man of whom they had heard so much. When he reached the brow of the hill, moved as by one impulse the crowd raised their spears aloft and cried aloud: "Kuboko! Kuboko! Waize! Thou comest!" and it was then that Tom thrilled with the thought that all these simple, untutored negroes were looking to him as their leader, and relying on him to save them from the awful fate they must inevitably meet if their inhuman oppressors had their will. And thus, when he had gathered them about him in a large ring, there was a deep note of earnestness in his voice as he addressed them. He thanked them first for coming so readily at his wish, and briefly explained to them the arrangements he had already made with the three superior chiefs, impressing on them the seriousness of the effort soon to be made to rid them for ever of their age-long foes, and the necessity for all to work together without jealousy or self-seeking. Much of what he said he knew must fall on deaf ears; he could not expect them to forget the habits and ideas that were part of their blood; but if he could only gain their confidence, he hoped that his personal influence and example would succeed in effecting something, however little.
When he had won their approval of his general scheme, he ventured to put to them another proposal which he felt would meet with opposition. It was that, when the great day came, they should bring all their women and children, with their valuable possessions, to Mwonga, until the fight was over. A low murmur of disapproval ran round the ring, then the negroes began to gesticulate and argue excitedly until loud shouts of "Nga! Ngabuse!" their strongest negative, filled the air. Waiting patiently through the uproar, Tom at length held up his hand, and after some minutes succeeded in stilling the storm. Then, in the same even quiet manner, he began to reason with them.
"Why do my brothers shout so loudly into the sky? Is Kuboko deaf that he cannot hear? Is he stupid that he cannot understand? I, Kuboko, have but two arms and two hands. I cannot take all my brothers into my grip and drag them whither it pleases me. No, but I speak plain words to my brothers, and if they are not good words then my brothers can go their own way. Listen, men of a hundred villages, how can you hope to hold your huts against the attack of a strong and cruel foe? See, I take this spear-shaft in my hand, I lay it across my knees and snap it in two; you could do the same. But now I take five spear-shafts together, and though I strive and strain I cannot break so much as one of them. What think you of that, my brothers?"
The old illustration, so happily remembered, had an instant effect on the keen natives, to whose minds the practical so strongly appeals. Allowing a little time for the lesson to strike home, Tom went on:
"Now, what of Mwonga? Think how it is placed--on a hill, a steep path at one end, a precipice at one side, an ever-flowing stream, a well-kept stockade. Have we not already driven the Arabs from it, not once nor twice? I have no thought of doing favour to Mwonga. It is not my village: my village is far away, over mountains and rivers, on the other side of a big water stretching farther than any eye can see. My village awaits me, and when my work is done I long only to go back to it and see my fields and huts and the faces of my own people again. But while I am here I want to help you, and you, and you, my brothers, every one of you. Make, then, a great camp at Mwonga until the Arabs are beaten and hunted away. Only Mwonga has been able to defy them. Does any chief know of a better place? If so, let him speak."