Bosambo of the River. Edgar Wallace

asked Arachi.

      "I believe in devils and ju-jus," said the Angola man simply, "especially one called Billimi, who has ten eyes and spits at snakes. Also, I hate the Arabi, that being part of my faith."

      This gave Arachi food for thought, and some reason for astonishment that Sandi should have spoken the truth to him.

      "What of this Abdul Arabi?" he asked. "Now I think that Sandi lied to me when he said such an one buys men, for, if this be so, why does he not raid the Isisi?"

      But the Angola man shook his head.

      "These are matters too high for my understanding," he said. "Yet I know that he takes the Angola because they are great gardeners, and cunning in the pruning of trees."

      Again Arachi had reason for thinking profoundly.

      This Abdul, as he saw, must come to the Upper River for the people of the Lesser Akasava, who were also great gardeners. He would take no Isisi, because they were notoriously lazy, and moreover, died with exasperating readiness when transplanted to a foreign soil.

      He continued his journey till he came to the place where he would have turned off had he taken a short cut to the French territory.

      Here he left his paddlers and his guest, and made his way up the creek of Still Waters.

      Half-a-day's paddling brought him to the camp of Abdul. The slaver's silent runners on the bank had kept pace with him, and when Arachi landed he was seized by men who sprang apparently from nowhere.

      "Lead me to your master, O common men," said Arachi, "for I am a chief of the Isisi, and desire a secret palaver."

      "If you are Isisi, and by your thinness and your boasting I see that you are," said his captor, "my lord Abdul will make easy work of you."

      Abdul Hazim was short and stout, and a lover of happiness. Therefore he kept his camp in that condition of readiness which enabled him to leave quickly at the first sight of a white helmet or a Houssa's tarboosh.

      For it would have brought no happiness to Abdul had Sanders come upon him.

      Now, seated on a soft-hued carpet of silk before the door of his little tent, he eyed Arachi dubiously, and listened in silence while the man spoke of himself.

      "Kaffir," he said, when the borrower had finished, "how do I know that you do not lie, or that you are not one of Sandi's spies? I think I should be very clever if I cut your throat."

      Arachi explained at length why Abdul Hazim should not cut his throat.

      "If you say this Angola man is near by, why should I not take him without payment?" asked the slaver.

      "Because," said Arachi, "this foreigner is not the only man in the country, and because I have great influence with Sandi, and am beloved by all manner of people who trust me. I may bring many other men to your lordship."

      Arachi returned to the camp, towing a small canoe with which the slaver had provided him.

      He woke the Angola stranger from his sleep.

      "Brother," he said, "here is a canoe with food. Now I tell you to paddle one day up this creek of Still Waters and there await my coming, for there are evil men about, and I fear for your safety."

      The Angolan, simple man that he was, obeyed. Half a day's journey up the creek Abdul's men were waiting.

      Arachi set off for his own village that night, and in his canoe was such a store of cloth, of salt, and of brass rods as would delight any man's heart. Arachi came to his village singing a little song about himself.

      In a year he had grown rich, for there were many ways of supplying the needs of an Arab slaver, and Abdul paid promptly.

      Arachi worked single-handed, or, if he engaged paddlers, found them in obscure corners of the territories. He brought to Abdul many marketable properties, mostly young N'gombi women, who are fearful and easily cowed, and Sanders, scouring the country for the stout man with the fez, found him not.

      * * * * *

      "Lord Abdul," said Arachi, who met the slaver secretly one night near the Ikusi River, "Sandi and his soldiers have gone down to the Akasava for a killing palaver. Now I think we will do what you wish."

      They were discussing an aspect of an adventure—the grandest adventure which Abdul had ever planned.

      "Arachi," said Abdul, "I have made you a rich man. Now, I tell you that I can make you richer than any chief in this land."

      "I shall be glad to hear of this," said Arachi. "For though I am rich, yet I have borrowed many things, and, it seems, I have so wonderful a mind that I must live always in to-morrow."

      "So I have heard," said the Arab. "For they say of you that if you had the whole world you would borrow the moon."

      "That is my mystery," said Arachi modestly. "For this reason I am a very notable man."

      Then he sat down to listen in patience to the great plan of Abdul Hazim. And it was a very high plan, for there were two thousand Liberian dollars at the back of it, and, for Arachi, payment in kind.

      At the moment of the conference, Sanders was housed in the Ochori city making palaver with Bosambo, the chief.

      "Bosambo," said Sanders, "I have given you these upper streams to your care. Yet Abdul Hazim walks through the land without hurt, and I think it is shame to you and to me."

      "Master," said Bosambo, "it is a shameful thing. Yet the streams hereabouts are so many, and Abdul is a cunning man, and has spies. Also, my people are afraid to offend him lest he 'chop' them, or sell them into the interior."

      Sanders nodded and rose to join the Zaire.

      "Bosambo," he said, "this government put a price upon this Abdul, even as a certain government put a price upon you."

      "What is his price, lord?" asked Bosambo, with an awakening of interest.

      "One hundred pounds in silver," said Sanders.

      "Lord," said Bosambo, "that is a good price."

      Two days afterwards, when Arachi came to Bosambo, this chief was engaged in the purely domestic occupation of nursing his one small son.

      "Greeting, Bosambo," said Arachi, "to you and to your beautiful son, who is noble in appearance and very quiet."

      "Peace be to you, Arachi. I have nothing to lend you," said Bosambo.

      "Lord," said Arachi loftily, "I am now a rich man—richer than chiefs—and I do not borrow."

      "Ko, ko!" said Bosambo, with polite incredulity.

      "Bosambo," Arachi went on, "I came to you because I love you, and you are not a talking man, but rather a wise and silent one."

      "All this I know, Arachi," said Bosambo cautiously. "And again I say to you that I lend no man anything."

      The exasperated Arachi raised his patient eyes to heaven.

      "Lord Bosambo," he said, in the tone of one hurt, "I came to tell you of that which I have found, and to ask your lordship to help me secure it. For in a certain place I have come across a great stock of ivory, such as the old kings buried against their need."

      "Arachi," said Bosambo, of a sudden, "you tell me that you are rich. Now you are a little man and I am a chief, yet I am not rich."

      "I have many friends," said Arachi, trembling with pride, "and they give me rods and salt."

      "That is nothing," said Bosambo. "Now I understand richness, for I have lived amongst white folk who laugh at rods and throw salt to dogs."

      "Lord Bosambo," said the other eagerly, "I am rich also by white men's rule. Behold!"

      From his waist pouch he took a handful of silver, and offered it in both hands for the chief's inspection.

      Bosambo