I called the king back. "Do not be afraid," I said.
Kombo cried back to me, "You say you come here to do no harm, and you do not kill people. Is not this the dead body of a man?" and in an instant he was out of sight.
Oh, how sorry I felt! but there was but little time for melancholy reflections.
I shouted back, "Ashango people, I am very sorry. What can I do? I will pay you the price of twenty men for that man who has been killed."
In the mean time the war-drums began to beat furiously in every part of this large village, and the warriors came out by hundreds, armed with spears, bows and poisoned arrows, battle-axes, and other murderous implements of war.
My men held beads and goods in their hands, and shouted, "Come, we will pay you for that man that has been killed."
Then suddenly one of the elders, bolder than the rest, shouted, "Let there be no war; let us have peace. The Oguizi will pay for that man's life."
There was a lull. Some said, "Let us make war; let us kill the people who have come with the Oguizi, for they have come to kill us," while another party shouted, "Let us have peace." The war-drums for a while ceased to beat, and the horns calling the warriors from the forest had ceased to blow.
There was a lull—just what I wanted. I knew it was utterly impossible to make those people believe that that man had been killed by accident. I might just as well have tried to make them believe that a spear would go through a man and kill him without being hurled by another man.
That lull was precious time to me, though it was but short. I encouraged my seven Commi men, who had come close to me for advice. "Don't be afraid, boys," I said. "We are men; we can fight. Not one of you will be delivered to the Ashangos for this palaver. We will fight our way back; get ready. Though they may be inclined for peace, let us prepare for the worst, and woe to our enemies if they want to fight." Then, turning toward Igalo, I said to him reproachfully, though kindly, "See what your carelessness has brought upon us."