2.17, stopped for lunch and wood."

What though Cape M'Gooboori was the village of that name and the "calm
sea" was no more than the placid bosom of the Great River? What though
Bones's "hostile craft" was a dilapidated canoe, manned by one aged and
bewildered man of the Isisi engaged in spearing fish? Bones saw all
things through the rosy spectacles of adventurous youth denied its
proper share of experience.

At sunset the _Zaire_ came gingerly through the shoals that run out from
the Isongo beach, and Bones went ashore to conduct his investigations.
It chanced that the evening had been chosen by M'lama, the witch, for
certain wonderful manifestations, and the village was almost deserted.

In a wood and in a place of green trees M'lama sat tossing her sheep
shanks, and a dense throng of solemn men and women squatted or sat or
tiptoed about her--leaving her a respectable space for her operations. A
bright fire crackled and glowed at her side, and into this, from time to
time, she thrust little sticks of plaited straw and drew them forth
blazing and spluttering until with a quick breath she extinguished the
flame and examined the grey ash.

"Listen, all people," she said, "and be silent, lest my great ju-ju
strike you dead. What man gave me this?"

"It was I, M'lama," said an eager woman, her face wrinkled with
apprehension as she held up her brown palm.

The witch peered forward at the speaker.

"O F'sela!" she chanted, "there is a man-child for thee who shall be
greater than chiefs; also you will suffer from a sickness which shall
make you mad."

"O ko!"

Half dismayed by the promise of her own fate; half exalted by the career
the witch had sketched for her unborn son, the woman stared
incredulously, fearfully at the swaying figure by the fire.

Again a plaited stick went into the fire, was withdrawn and blown out,
and the woman again prophesied.

And sometimes it was of honours and riches she spoke, and sometimes--and
more often--of death and disaster. Into this shuddering group strode
Bones, very finely clad in white raiment yet limp withal, for the night
was close and the way had been long and rough.

The sitters scrambled to their feet, their knuckles at their teeth, for
this was a moment of great embarrassment.

"Oh, M'lama," said Bones agreeably, and spoke in the soft dialect of the
Isisi by-the-River, "prophesy for me!"

She looked up sullenly, divining trouble for herself.

"Lord," she said,