During the speech Satu sat uneasily on his seat, casting furtive glances at the slim, kindly-faced white man before him. After all he did not look so terrible that a whole town should go frantic with fear of him.
When Tonzeka had concluded his speech the white man replied: “I am so glad to see Satu, for I have often heard of him, and a few weeks ago I went to visit him, but through some silly prejudice he would not give me hospitality, and sent me and my people to sleep in the damp with the mosquitoes at the bottom of his hill. Since then I have heard that some of his people wanted to kill me, but he would not let them;” and leaning forward he took Satu’s hand in his, and said: “I thank you very much for not only saving my life, but the lives of those who were with me. There was a lad who struck at my outstretched hand. This afternoon he came for medicine for a bad cut on his arm, thinking I did not know him. There he is, standing with the firelight full on his face. Will he not shake hands and be friends?”
And, rising, the white man went with outstretched hand to Bakula, who with much trepidation put his hand nervously into the very hand at which he had so cruelly aimed a heavy blow. In broken sentences Bakula begged forgiveness, which was freely given.
Everybody now felt thoroughly at home with each other, especially when Satu had cordially invited the white man to visit him, promising better hospitality next time; and the white man heartily accepted the invitation, promising, on his part, to come soon. Then came a long series of questions about Mputu (the countries of the white man); and while the white man told them of the great houses with many rooms, the innumerable streets, the broad roads, the trams, horses, and the size of the cities and towns, the audience sat with wide-eyed astonishment, broken only by the snapping of fingers and exclamations of surprise.
At last one boy put their thoughts into words by asking if the white man was speaking the truth; because, said he: “We have always believed that you white folk live underneath the sea.”
“Why do you think that?” laughingly asked the white man.
“For two very good reasons,” asserted the boy, rather aggressively. He did not like being laughed at before all the others, for he was only stating what they all believed.
“State your reasons,” said the white man kindly, for he saw that the boy was hurt by his laughter.
Encouraged thus, the boy said: "When we stand on the shore at Ambrezette, or at any other of the trading-stations on the sea-coast, we see the ships come in, and what do we notice first? Not the big part of the ship at the bottom (the hull), but the stick at the top (the mast), and when the ship has discharged all its goods on the beach, and filled up again with palm-oil, rubber, ivory, palm-kernels and peanuts, it goes away, and the part that we see last is the topmost post. Of course it comes up out of the sea. That is why we first notice the top of the ‘stick,’ and it goes down into the sea; that is why the top of the ‘stick’ is last seen."
“Yes, that is very good! What is your second reason?” asked the white man.