A cheerful jabbering seemed to be going on outside. After some time the Alo Man’s voice could be heard, speaking alone. “Listen, men!” it said. “We can do nothing as long as they have their weapons. Let us give them a chance to live. If they give up their weapons, we can talk to them.”
The Arab made up his mind quickly. “Let down a rope,” he shouted in the clearest Bantu he knew, “and we will tie our guns to it.”
After a little talk, a couple of long leather thongs were flung over the edge of the pit. The Arab thought he might be able to keep back some of the weapons, but he found that whoever was in command seemed to know exactly how many there ought to be. Then the edge of the pit was ringed with fierce, feather-crowned faces looking down at the captives, and there was more talk. Finally the slave traders were pulled out and set in the midst of the crowd, each guarded by a tall and active spearman, and feeling very much depressed and frightened. They knew that if the villagers chose to be disagreeable, they could be very disagreeable indeed.
One of the chiefs, a very tall and commanding figure in a splendid leopard-skin robe, was Tswki himself, as the Arab discovered with horror and dismay. The Alo Man was talking to this chief and trying to make him agree to something.
“Hear now this plan,” said the Alo Man, persuasively. “It is true that these men have planned to come into your country and make war, and steal your ivory, and you have seen for yourself that they came with weapons in their hands and sent no messenger to tell you of their coming and ask permission to enter your village. You know also that they are taking slaves wherever they can, against the new law. If you kill them, as they deserve, they will do no more harm, it is true [the Arab’s teeth began to chatter]; but they will do you no good. On the other hand, if you tie them and march them under guard across your country to the white men, they will do you great good. You will then be able to say to the white men: ‘See, I have kept your words in my heart. I found these men, who are wicked and sell men and women against the law, coming to catch slaves in my country. If you search their packs you will find fetters that they intended to put on the slaves they captured. I did not kill them, although I could have done so. I did not let them go free to carry off the people of some other chief. I have brought them to you for punishment, because you have said that this is right. I have done this so that you may know that I am a good man and speak the truth.’ Then the white man will believe that you are a good man, and he will be your friend. It is very good when one has powerful friends.”
This was probably the first chance that Tswki had ever had to be thought a good, honest man. The newness of it may have interested him. He was surprised that the village people had not killed the slave traders themselves without calling on him, but really it was much more clever to have done this. They could not have taken their prisoners to the white men without going through his country. Now he would get the credit of it all. Tswki was not called “The Snake” for nothing. He saw that the plan was a wise one. The snake is thought by African tribes to be very wise.
“Your plan is good,” said Tswki finally, after thinking it over. “That is what I will do.”
“Listen, you men,” said the Alo Man in Swahili to the trader’s party. “You came into our country pretending friendship and planning wickedness. We know that you tried to come into this chief’s country and steal his ivory and his people, because you thought that he was old and feeble and could not fight you. [Tswki gave a kind of grunt.] You have weapons which kill with a noise from a long way off, and you trust in these to make you strong, like the elephant raging in the jungle. But you have fallen into a pit through the plan of a boy, and your strength has been taken from you as the Elephant’s skin was taken by the little Hyrax. You are to be sent to the officers in the white man’s country, who have made laws to stop the stealing of men and women and children, and the spoiling of our country with the drink in the square-faced bottles. Your men will wait for you awhile and go away. If they try to come up the river, we will stop them. Now we have no more to do with you, for you belong to Tswki.”