ad and at a sign two of the men got out
paddles, for more were not needed, and with slow and gentle strokes
rowed us across the water. The first thing I noted about this water at
the time was that its blackness was inky, owing, I suppose, to its depth
and the shadows of the towering cliff on one side and of the tall trees
on the other. Also I observed--for in this emergency, or perhaps because
of it, I managed to keep my wits about me--that its banks on either side
were the home of great numbers of crocodiles which lay there like logs.
I saw, further, that a little lower down where the water seemed to
narrow, jagged boughs projected from its surface as though great trees
had fallen, or been thrown into it. I recalled in a numb sort of way
that old Babemba had told us that when he was a boy he had escaped in a
canoe down this estuary, and reflected that it would not be possible for
him to do so now because of those snags. Unless, indeed, he had floated
over them in a time of great flood.

A couple of minutes or so of paddling brought us to the further shore
which, as I think I have said, was only about two hundred yards from the
mouth of the cave. The bow of the canoe grated on the bank, disturbing a
huge crocodile that vanished into the depths with an angry plunge.

"Land, white lords, land," said Komba with the utmost politeness, "and
go, visit the god who doubtless is waiting for you. And now, as we shall
meet no more--farewell. You are wise and I am foolish, yet hearken to my
counsel. If ever you should return to the Earth again, be advised by me.
Cling to your own god if you have one, and do not meddle with those of
other peoples. Again farewell."

The advice was excellent, but at that moment I felt a hate for Komba
which was really superhuman. To me even the Motombo seemed an angel of
light as compared with him. If wishes could have killed, our farewell
would indeed have been complete.

Then, admonished by the spear points of the Pongo, we landed in the
slimy mud. Brother John went first with a smile upon his handsome
countenance that I thought idiotic under the circumstances, though
doubtless he knew best when he ought to smile, and the wretched Kalubi
came last. Indeed, so great was his shrinking from that ominous
shore, that I believe he was ultimately propelled from the boat by his
successor in power, Komba. Once he had trodden it, however, a spark of
spirit returned to him, for he wheeled round and said to