There, without doubt, /was/ old Brother John with a wreath of flowers
--I noted in disgust that they were orchids--hanging in a bacchanalian
fashion from his dinted sun-helmet over his left eye. He was in a
furious rage and reviling Bausi, who literally crouched before him,
and I was in a furious rage and reviling him. What I said I do not
remember, but he said, his white beard bristling with indignation
while he threatened Bausi with the handle of the butterfly net:
"You dog! You savage, whom I saved from death and called Brother. What
were you doing to these white men who are in truth my brothers, and to
their followers? Were you about to kill them? Oh! if so, I will forget
my vow, I will forget the bond that binds us and----"
"Don't, pray don't," said Bausi. "It is all a horrible mistake; I am
not to be blamed at all. It is that witch-doctor, Imbozwi, whom by the
ancient law of the land I must obey in such matters. He consulted his
Spirit and declared that you were dead; also that these white lords
were the most wicked of men, slave-traders with spotted hearts, who
came hither to spy out the Mazitu people and to destroy them with
magic and bullets.
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