“‘Do what thou wilt, my son,’ said he, ‘and if my hands cannot, my spirit will help thee.’
“There and then I began a close scrutiny. I went outside, measured, tapped, sought, but I found nothing more. If there had ever been a stoup, a cross, a rude piscina, they had long since gone. But the more I searched, the more sure grew my conviction that the place had been a chapel. At last I sat down to rest, and while resting, I had an idea.
“‘Mwezi,’ I said, ‘have you ever dug up the floor?’
“He shook his head. ‘Why should I dig it up?’ he asked.
“‘Would you allow me to do so?’ I queried.
“He looked doubtful. ‘But why?’ he asked again, suspiciously. ‘And would you dig even now?’
“I laughed. ‘Well, not at once,’ I said. ‘We must find a new house for you first. But if I am right, it may be that things are buried here, or that there are stones which will tell me a tale. See, the floor is higher now than it was. There was a step here at the door, and the mud has nearly covered it.’
“‘It is but the smearing,’ he said, half contemptuously.
“That roused me. Of course I know the native habit of cleaning a house by putting down a fresh layer of mud mixed with a little dung, which in time raises the floor considerably. But I was not to be put off by that. Below the smearing of the old man’s time might be a layer of earth thrown in to hide something. I glanced round. ‘May I borrow a spear?’ I asked.
“He nodded, and I selected one from the corner with a long thin blade. Then I went into the inner room, and he came and stood again to watch me with his peering old eyes. Under his scrutiny, I began in the apse and thrust downward as far as I could. The blade sank to its hilt fairly easily, and that was all.