I tried to speak and defend myself, but he said I had the tongue of a serpent and should never again poison the ears of Karema. Raising his spear, I thought he was about to strike me dead, when his companion, whose name I learned was Kifura, prevented him. Dala said, “It is well; let him live; but I will do worse than kill him;” and then addressing me said, “Franki, the English are in the river and waiting for you. Hararu has sent canoes to take you to your own people.”
A rush of thankfulness went through my whole being, and I cared not for pains nor logs nor any discomforts, and said, “O Dala, take me, take me quickly, that I may go to my own people; and when I reach them I will give you many things—guns, powder, beads, cloth—all that you wish shall be yours.”
“Listen to his words,” said Dala. “A slave, a dog promises me guns; he promises me cloth. Know that if all that white men make in their country were given me I would not take you to the English ship, for I hate you.”
I fell on my knees and, weeping and crying, implored this hard-hearted savage to have pity on me. I pointed out how Karema could not possibly make me his heir if I left the country, and I promised that not one word would I say of his present behaviour; but all without effect, and again he raised his spear as if to kill me, but again Kifura stopped him.
“Listen, Dala of the Adiana,” said Kifura. “Why should you kill this white man? Mine he is, and mine he will continue; if you kill him, my words will go to Karema, and you will never be chief in his place. Take counsel with me and be wise. The men who are with you, will their words be as your words?”
“Truly, what I say they say. They are my own, and their lives are in my hands.”
“Take wisdom in your hands, and return to Karema and say unto him, ‘I have found the place where Franki was, but he was dead when we came; and I followed after other people, for I found the traces of many men, and I found that one other of our people—he who is even now a prisoner—was with them, and I came and found him in their hands, and they released him.’ Go your way with this man, and the English will give you guns for having gone after this white man.”
“But, Kifura, this slave, this Chaka, is a friend of Franki’s, and he will say unto Karema that Franki lives. I will kill him, and his tongue will be silent.”
“Stay your hand, Dala. While the man lives he may work, and I can use him. Let him remain, and say that he also is dead.”
“Surely, Kifura, the life of this slave is nothing to me; but he may come back and make me a liar before Karema.”