But his back was to me;
he was gazing not towards the water, but down the cave. I hesitated
for one fateful moment. Perhaps the priest was asleep, perhaps I could
get the canoe away without shooting. I did not like the job; moreover,
his head was held forward and invisible, and how was I to make certain
of killing him with a shot in the back? Lastly, if possible, I wished
to avoid firing because of the report.
At that instant the Motombo wheeled round. Some instinct must have
warned him of my presence, for the silence was gravelike save for the
soft splash of the rain without. As he turned the lightning blazed and
he saw me.
"It is the white man," he muttered to himself in his hissing whisper,
while I waited through the following darkness with the rifle at my
shoulder, "the white man who shot me long, long ago, and again he has
a gun! Oh! Fate stabs, doubtless the god is dead and I too must die!"
Then as if some doubt struck him he lifted the horn to summon help.
Again the lightning flashed and was accompanied by a fearful crack of
thunder.
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