And behold, each had a tail just beginning to grow!
The Jackal says it was then that the scrawny old man and the scrawny old woman began to chatter and shriek at each other as if they had lost their wits, but no one can tell whether or not they were blaming each other for the strange things that had happened to them, because from that day to this no one has been able to understand what they say. Certain it is that when they found their appearance was so completely changed, they began to leap from one branch to another and from one tree to another, and so escaped from the neighbors, who were still at the foot of the tree, waiting for them to come down. But they let go the bag of cowries in their flight, and it fell to the ground and was picked up by the neighbors, who carried it back to the poor sick man.
And from that day to this the People of the Trees have all been little scrawny old men and old women who chase one another from tree to tree, and chatter and shriek and quarrel, and sometimes come down and steal things from the huts, but very seldom are able to keep what they have stolen. And from that day to this they have not forgotten that they once were people and lived in a village, for they build little huts in the branches for their young ones, and are always watching what the people of the village do and trying to be like them.
It is not known whether the monkey story had anything to do with it or not, but during the final preparations for the trading expedition there was no quarreling and things went on in a very orderly and businesslike fashion.
When the carriers had all come in from the other villages, there were more than a hundred all together, and last of all the medicine man made his appearance. He was a little, wizened, shrewd-looking old fellow who carried a charm bag and a wooden fetich image which nobody would have touched for anything. It must have been at least three or four hundred years old, for it was a stumpy carved statue of a Portuguese sea captain in the dress of the sixteenth century, and the wood had turned almost black with age. Nobody in Africa could possibly have seen anything like it for many generations, and naturally it was thought to be magic.
The medicine man called all the headmen together and sat them down in a circle, he and his fetich occupying the middle. On his head was a crown of gay feathers, and his costume was made up chiefly of rattles, beads, and ornaments of magical power. He made a little speech to the fetich, asking it to give good luck to the caravan, to keep it safe from danger of water, flame, or iron, and to make it successful in its dealings. Then he sacrificed a chicken to the fetich, and the chicken was solemnly cooked and eaten by the company. No one in the caravan could after that enter his house or turn back upon the road. The medicine man selected charms from those in his charm bag—herbs, spices, feathers, and little bones—and put them in a shell which he set in the middle of the trail. Then the caravan was ready to start. The long procession of traders, porters, headmen, and soldiers moved in a swinging stride down the path, each one stepping over the shell and not looking back. No one touched the shell, which was very lucky, and whether the medicine man’s ceremonies had anything to do with it or not, the expedition returned safely in due time, with a tale of good luck on the trail and success in the trading.