om outside came the twitter and hum of the forest, the rhythm of frogs,
the dim bleating of a goat and the distant wailing of the women's death
lament. Zu Pfeiffer drank and smoked and stared at the portrait in the
ivory frame. Once he slapped irritably at a mosquito which had escaped the
double net over the tent door. A wave of emotion seemed to well within
him. He looked as if he were about to blubber as leaning over the table he
peered intently at the pictured face and whispered:

"Nur einmal noch moecht ich dich sehen,
Und sinken vor dir aufs Knie
Und sterbend zu dir sprechen:
'Madam, ich liebe Sie!' {~HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS~}

"Lucille! {~HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS~} Ach, Lucille!"

He drew himself back with a jerk, drank his brandy at a gulp and called
angrily:

"Bakunjala!"

The flutter of sand preceded a gasped:

"Bwana!"

Zu Pfeiffer gave him an irritable command. Four minutes elapsed during
which he gazed steadily at the portrait. He turned at the slither of feet.
Bright blue beads glittered in the lamplight as the daughter of Bamana
sank upon her heels.

CHAPTER 17

In his favourite seat by the door of his hut sat Zalu Zako waiting as
patiently as only a native can to see the white man, symbol of a
subconscious hope. The fact that Bakuma had not been found by the
emissaries of the bloodthirsty Bakahenzie evoked a sensation of pleasure
which was expressed merely in a feeling of well-being. Of her in person he
thought consciously little; his attitude was much as a white lover who
might discover his loved one to be a sister, and hence, by consanguinity,
barred from him for ever, a terrible fact of fate; but, lacking the
sentimental inhibition, Zalu Zako did not disguise the death wish because
she was denied him. Desires are simpler in the savage, yet the driving
motives are the same as in the "cultured" ex-animal overlaid with
generations of inhibitions--tabus--which form complex strata making the
truth more and more difficult to recognise. From that very obfuscation of
motives arises civilisation.

Then from the blue depths of the humid green came a great outcry, answered
by the ululation of the women in warning.

"Eyes-in-the-hands!" grunted Zalu Zako, voicing the perpetual fear of the
camp, as he leaped for his gun which Moonspirit had sent him.

Above the medley of sounds arose an articulate shout:

"He has bewitched our souls! He has bewit