m also a Prophet of the Child, have said it."

Now Simba seemed to go quite mad, so mad that I thought all was over. He
waved his spear and danced about in front of us, till the silver chains
clanked upon his breast. He vituperated the Child and its worshippers,
who, he declared, had worked evil on the Black Kendah for generations.
He appealed to his god Jana to avenge these evils, "to pierce the Child
with his tusks, to tear it with his trunk, and to trample it with his
feet," all of which the wounded diviner ably seconded through his horrid
mask.

There we stood before him, I leaning against the wall of the house with
an air of studied nonchalance mingled with mild interest, at least that
is what I meant to do, and Marut smiling sweetly and staring at the
heavens. Whilst I was wondering what exact portion of my frame was
destined to become acquainted with that spear, of a sudden Simba gave it
up. Turning to his followers, he bade them dig a hole in the corner of
our little enclosure and set the dead man in it, "with his head out so
that he may breathe," an order which they promptly executed.

Then he issued a command that we should be well fed and tended, and
remarking that if the departed was not alive and healthy on the third
morning from that day, we should hear from him again, he and his company
stalked off, except those men who were occupied with the interment.

Soon this was finished also. There sat the deceased buried to the neck
with his face looking towards the house, a most disagreeable sight.
Presently, however, matters were improved in this respect by one of the
sextons fetching a large earthenware pot and several smaller pots full
of food and water. The latter they set round the head, I suppose for the
sustenance of the body beneath, and then placed the big vessel inverted
over all, "to keep the sun off our sleeping brother," as I heard one say
to the other.

This pot looked innocent enough when all was done, like one of those
that gardeners in England put over forced rhubarb, no more. And yet,
such is the strength of the imagination, I think that on the whole I
should have preferred the object underneath naked and unadorned. For
instance, I have forgotten to say that the heads of those of the White
Kendah who had fallen in the fight had been set up on poles in front of
Simba's house. They were unpleasant to contemplate, but to my mind not
so unpleasant as that pot.

As a matter of fact, this precau