The king asked, “You really want a fight with me?” The man answered, “Yes, I am ready for it.” Said the king, “It is well.”
The fight began, each with his full okove power. In such contests, the power is able to change the contestants’ bodies to many forms. The slave was quick in his use of them. His first change was to the form of a big gorilla. This also the king met. As the fight went on, the next form was into that of leopards. The fight went on, with frequent changes; the slave always being the first to change. After a while the slave seemed to be growing tired, and the king asked him, “Are you through?” He answered, “No, only resting.” Again the fight was resumed. Finally, the slave took an eagle’s form; the king did the same.
Presently the slave seemed to hesitate, and the king said, “You said you wanted a fight. Well, let us go on with it.” They continued; but the slave seemed to be exhausted, and the king said, “Now, are you willing to leave the place?” He answered, “No; my fatigue is not yet so great as to make me leave your place.” The king had held his power in reserve, and had been tolerant of the man’s audacity; but he now resumed his human form, took his gun (the slave had none), and aiming it, off it went, and wounded him. Being wounded, the slave had to acknowledge that he was overcome, and he had to go. When morning came, the slave was not able to get up to go about his work, and remained in bed. The gun-shot wound was a small one, and he was conscious that he was dying of some other cause. He sent some one to the master’s house to ask him to come. When his master came, he said, “Ah! master! I have something to say to you. Please plead for me!” The master said, “Plead for you! For what?” The slave then told him, “I went around last night to the king’s place. He told me to leave, and I was not willing to do so. So we had a great fight. And I am conquered. But please plead for me, that he may make me well.”
The master replied, “Did I not advise you not to go there, but rather to stay at your plantation?” He assented. “But please plead, and I will stay at the plantation.”
The master answered, “I do not think the king will be willing to help you.” Nevertheless, being a cousin, he went privately to the king, and told him all that the slave had told him. The king refused, saying, “No, I am not going to do anything for him. He must die.” The next day the slave was dead.
(Another illustration of that king’s okove power was narrated to me.)
There had been ill-feeling between this king’s tribe and an adjacent inferior tribe who had killed two of the king’s chief men without cause, coming suddenly upon them at night in their fishing-camp. The king’s people were very much troubled about it, and asked to be led to war. But the old king said, “You young people don’t know anything. If you go to war, there will be much blood shed on both sides. Leave the matter with me. I will attend to it myself.”
So at night he went by himself to the town of the king of the offending tribe, and remained there waiting in ambush on the path. Early next morning four of the women belonging to that town had gone to their gardens with their baskets to get food. The old king followed them secretly. After all of them had filled their baskets, two lifted them upon their backs and started to return to their town. The other two were just stooping (as is the custom in lifting burdens, leaning forward on one knee in order to place their backs against the basket, with a strap passing around the basket and over their foreheads), when the king came behind then and struck their necks with his okove. They instantly died in that stooping position.
The two women who had gone on ahead reached their town without knowing what had happened to the other two. They waited in town a long time for the two absent ones to come. But when they did not make their appearance, the people began to ask those women about the other two. They said they knew nothing about the delay, only that they had left them ready to come and preparing to lift their baskets. The townspeople, anxious because it was late in the day, went out to search for the women. They found them on the path, dead by their baskets. They examined their bodies for some mark or wound or sign of a blow. There was none. This very much perplexed them, for they did not suspect the cause of their death. They carried the dead bodies to town. The next night the king went again to that same town, and he happened to meet the other king at the boat-landing of the town. So the old king made complaint to the other why the servants of the latter had killed his two chiefs. The other made no reply, having no justification of what his people had done.
Then the old king said, “As your people have done this, there is war between us”; and he struck him with his okove. And he added, “Do you know that I have already begun war with your people? Did you not find two of your women dead yesterday at your gardens? I killed them. But I am not through with you. I want you to pay a fine, and I want the man who killed my two chiefs, for the lives of the two women are not equivalent to those of my two chiefs.”