"Here's a nice position," I groaned to Stephen when he had gone. "I, a
white man, who, in spite of some coincidences with which I am
acquainted, know that all this Kaffir magic is bosh am to beg a savage
to tell me something of which he /must/ be ignorant. That is, unless
we educated people have got hold of the wrong end of the stick
altogether. It is humiliating; it isn't Christian, and I'm hanged if
I'll do it!"
"I dare say you will be--hanged I mean--whether you do it or whether
you don't," replied Stephen with his sweet smile. "But I say, old
fellow, how do you know it is all bosh? We are told about lots of
miracles which weren't bosh, and if miracles ever existed, why can't
they exist now? But there, I know what you mean and it is no use
arguing. Still, if you're proud, I ain't. I'll try to soften the stony
heart of Mavovo--we are rather pals, you know--and get him to unroll
the book of his occult wisdom," and he went.
A few minutes later I was called out to receive a sheep which, with
milk, native beer, some corn, and other things, including green forage
for the donkeys, Bausi had sent for us to eat.
Pages:
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253