The grandfather gave him an axe, and told him to go and cut firewood sufficient to fill the small woodshed. Jĕki did so, filling the shed in that one day. The regular occupation of the old man was the twisting of ropes for the lines of seines. So the next day he told Jĕki to go and get the inner barks, whose fibre was used in his rope-making. Jĕki went to the forest, gathered this material, and returned with it to the old man.

The next day the grandfather said to Jĕki, “Now I am ready to start you off on your journey.” And he added, “As you gave as reasons for stealing that you had neither money nor the means of getting it, I will provide that.” Then the old man called him, took him to a brook-side, and reminded him that he had promised that he could make a medicine to cure him of his desire to steal.

The grandfather began to cut open Jĕki’s chest, and took out his heart, washed it all clean, and put it back again. Then they went back to the grandfather’s house. There he gave Jĕki an ozâzi (wooden pestle), and said, “Now, son, take this. This is your wealth. Everything that you wish, this will bring to you. Hold it up, express your wish, and you will get it. But there is one orunda (taboo) connected with it: no one must pronounce the word ‘salt’ in your hearing. You may see and use salt, but may not speak its name nor hear it spoken, for if you do things will turn out bad for you.” “But,” the old man added, “if that happens, I will now tell you what to do.” And he revealed to him a secret, and gave him full directions. When the grandfather had finished, he led him a short distance on the way, and returned to his house. He had not prepared any food for Jĕki for the journey, for he with the ozâzi would himself be able to supply all his own wishes.

Jĕki goes on and on, and then exclaims doubtfully, “Ah, only this ozâzi is to furnish me with everything! I’m getting hungry; so, soon I’ll try its power.” He went on a little farther, and then decided that he would try whether he could get anything by means of the ozâzi. So he held it up, and said, “I wish a table of food to be spread for me, with two white men to eat with me.” Instantly there was seen a tent, and table covered with food, and two white men sitting. He sat down with these two companions. After they had eaten, he spoke to the ozâzi to cause the tent and its contents to disappear. They did so. This proved for him the power of his ozâzi, and he was glad, and went on his way satisfied.

Finally he reached his father’s town, whose people saw him coming, but gave him no welcome, except his mother, who was glad to see him. But most of the people only said, “There! there is that thief coming again. We must begin to hide our things.” After Jĕki’s arrival, in a few days, the townspeople noticed a change in him, and inquired of each other, “Has he been stealing, or has he really changed?” for shortly after his return he had told his mother and brothers all the news, and had warned the people of the town about the orunda of “salt.” In the course of a few days Jĕki did many wonderful things with his ozâzi. He wished for nice little premises of his own with houses and conveniences, near his father’s town, supplied with servants and clothing and furniture. These appeared. Soon, by the wealth that he possessed, he became master of the town, and ruled over the other children of his father. He obtained from that same ozâzi, created by its power, two wives,—Ngwanga and Ilâmbe, who were loving and obedient. He also bought three other wives from the village, who were like servants to the two chief ones. He confided his plans and everything to the two favored ones who had come out of the ozâzi.

In the course of time he thought he would display his power before the people, and for their benefit, by causing ships to come with wealth. So he held up the ozâzi, and said, “I want to see a ship come full of merchandise!”

Presently the townspeople began to shout, “A ship! a ship!” It anchored. Jĕki called his own brothers and half-brothers, and directed, “You all get ready and go out to the ship, and tell the captain that I will follow you.” They made ready, and went on board, and asked, “What goods have you brought?” The captain told them, “Mostly cloth, and a few other things.” They informed him, “Soon the chief of the town will come.” And they returned ashore, and reported to Jĕki what was on board. He made himself ready and went, leaving word for them to follow soon and discharge the cargo. The ship lay there a few days, and then sailed away. Then Jĕki divided the goods among his brothers and parents, keeping only a small share for himself.

Thus it went on: every few months Jĕki ordering a ship to come with goods. As usual, he would send his brothers first, they would bring a report, and then he would go on board. Sometimes he would eat with the ship’s company, sometimes he would invite them ashore to eat in his own house.

All this time no one had broken the orunda of “salt.” But, to prove things, Jĕki thought he would try his half-brothers, and see what were their real feelings toward him. So the next time he caused ships to come with a cargo of salt only. At sight of the ships there was the usual shout of “A ship! a ship!” The brothers went aboard as usual, and found what the cargo was. The half-brothers returned ashore immediately, and began to shout when they neared Jĕki’s house, “The ships are full of salt!” He heard the word, and said to his mother and to his two chief wives, “Do you hear that?”

The half-brothers came close to him, and exclaimed, “Dâgula [Sir], the ships are loaded with nothing but salt, salt, salt, and the captain is waiting for you.” Jĕki asked again, as if he had not heard, “What is it the captains have brought?” And they said, “Salt.” So he said, “Let it be so. To-day is the day. Good! You go and get ready, and I will get ready, and we shall all go together.”