They might all have been members of one family; indeed, this was
practically the case, owing to constant intermarriage carried on for
generations.
There was something in the appearance of these tall, cold, sharp-
featured, white-robed men that chilled my blood, something unnatural
and almost inhuman. Here was nothing of the usual African jollity. No
one shouted, no one laughed or chattered. No one crowded on us, trying
to handle our persons or clothes. No one appeared afraid or even
astonished. Except for a word or two they were silent, merely
contemplating us in a chilling and distant fashion, as though the
arrival of three white men in a country where before no white man had
ever set foot were an everyday occurrence.
Moreover, our personal appearance did not seem to impress them, for
they smiled faintly at Brother John's long beard and at my stubbly
hair, pointing these out to each other with their slender fingers or
with the handles of their big spears. I remarked that they never used
the blade of the spear for this purpose, perhaps because they thought
that we might take this for a hostile or even a warlike demonstration.
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