tempt to kill him had
failed. Either Moonspirit would flee, which would be most happy proof to
Bakahenzie that he was an impostor and no magician, or he would seek
revenge immediately. No other action was conceivable to Bakahenzie.
Therefore in such a case the obvious act was to strike the quicker. He
contemplated his colleague without looking at him. What was his attitude?
Bakahenzie, on general principles, was suspicious. If Marufa thought that
by supporting the white man he might be able to attain Bakahenzie's
overthrow and gain the position of chief witch-doctor, he would do it,
even as he, Bakahenzie, would have done in his place. Therefore upon these
matters did he talk very guardedly with Marufa, who was unusually
reticent. However, after communing with himself in sphinx-like gravity,
Marufa assented to the proposal that Zalu Zako be isolated in the godhood
immediately.

So the slow rhythmic beat, which was the summons to the craft to assemble,
throbbed in the clammy air. Before the humid shadows had lengthened a
hand's breadth, were some twenty wizards, greater and lesser, fully
dressed in the green feathers of the order, collected within the compound
of Bakahenzie. Silently and woodenly they squatted in a half circle before
the chief witch-doctor, each and every one excited by the marvellous
stories circulated by the warriors returned from the camp of Moonspirit,
stories which amply corroborated the tales of Mungongo. Those who
supported Bakahenzie's party believed implicitly, because they wished so
to do, the "reason" for the impotence of their united magic to be the
breaking of the magic circle by Bakuma. But others who cherished personal
ambitions for the head witch-doctorship were suspicious of each other and
of Bakahenzie, each one according to his grade and consequent knowledge in
the craft.

When the drum had ceased and they sat in impressive silence, Bakahenzie,
squatting motionless on the threshold of his hut, began to mutter
incantations and to rock from side to side. Now every one of the inner
cult knew well enough that this performance was merely a ceremony
prescribed by tradition and expediency; yet for that very reason and
particularly for the benefit of the lesser wizards, they solemnly accepted
it, grunting in chorus as heartily as the others to the chant of
Bakahenzie. As suddenly as dramatically, Bakahenzie stopped with eyes
staring upon another world and fell upon his back, to scream and to