Brother John went first with a smile upon his handsome
countenance that I thought idiotic under the circumstances, though
doubtless he knew best when he ought to smile, and the wretched Kalubi
came last. Indeed, so great was his shrinking from that ominous shore,
that I believe he was ultimately propelled from the boat by his
successor in power, Komba. Once he had trodden it, however, a spark of
spirit returned to him, for he wheeled round and said to Komba,
"Remember, O Kalubi, that my fate to-day will be yours also in a day
to come. The god wearies of his priests. This year, next year, or the
year after; he always wearies of his priests."
"Then, O Kalubi-that-was," answered Komba in a mocking voice as the
canoe was pushed off, "pray to the god for me, that it may be the year
after; pray it as your bones break in his embrace."
While we watched that craft depart there came into my mind the memory
of a picture in an old Latin book of my father's, which represented
the souls of the dead being paddled by a person named Charon across a
river called the Styx.
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