After this dispute, another arose
over a common garden trowel that Stephen had thought fit to bring with
him. Komba asked what it was for. Stephen replied through Brother John
that it was to dig up flowers.
"Flowers!" said Komba. "One of our gods is a flower. Does the white
lord wish to dig up our god?"
Of course this was exactly what Stephen did desire to do, but not
unnaturally he kept the fact to himself. The squabble grew so hot that
finally I announced that if our little belongings were treated with so
much suspicion, it might be better that we should give up the journey
altogether.
"We have passed our word that we have no firearms," I said in the most
dignified manner that I could command, "and that should be enough for
you, O Komba."
Then Komba, after consultation with his companions, gave way.
Evidently he was anxious that we should visit Pongo-land.
So at last we started. We three white men and our servants seated
ourselves in the stern of the canoe on grass cushions that had been
provided.
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