I think
he should be killed."
He paused and we trembled, for if he chose to kill the poor Hottentot,
how could we prevent him? But Hans, who saw the great danger, called
his cunning to his aid.
"O Motombo," he squeaked, "you must not kill me for I am the servant
of an ambassador. You know well that all the gods of every land hate
and will be revenged upon those who touch ambassadors or their
servants, whom they, the gods, alone may harm. If you kill me I shall
haunt you. Yes, I shall sit on your shoulder at night and jibber into
your ear so that you cannot sleep, until you die. For though you are
old you must die at last, Motombo."
"It is true," said the Motombo. "Did I not tell you that he was full
of cunning? All the gods will be avenged upon those who kill
ambassadors or their servants. That"--here he laughed again in his
dreadful way--"is the rights of the gods alone. Let the gods of the
Pongo settle it."
I uttered a sigh of relief, and he went on in a new voice, a dull,
business-like voice if I may so describe it:
"Say, O Kalubi, on what matter have you brought these white men to
speak with me, the Mouth of the god? Did I dream that it was a matter
of a treaty with the King of the Mazitu? Rise and speak.
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