Laura still shook her head. "I love you," she said, "more than anything else in life, and I can think of no greater happiness than to be your wife. But I would never marry you if I thought you could repent of it afterwards. You can't deny that you are wrapped up in K. You must see K. before you marry me, George." "If K. comes along before the parson, well and good, you shall have your own way of it. But if a missionary of the right complexion (if there is such a thing down here) casts up at this factory, there'll be a wedding cake put on the festive board, Miss Slade, and you'll be the bride that'll cut it. Don't you try and wriggle out of your solemn promises with me. Hullo, what's that?" "Thunder. Is the tornado coming again?" "No, listen. It isn't thunder. It's people thumping monkey-skin drums. I've made dozens of those tuneful instruments for the curiosity dealers at home, so I know the note. Well, you get on with your dusting, there's a nice girl, and I'll go out and have a cigarette." "You are going--to----" "What, clean up the mess outside? No, we'll leave that for the present. Now, don't be scared, there's a sweetheart. But, to tell the truth, those drums interest me. The natives signal through the bush with them, you know, in a sort of dot-dash-dot style; and so far their local Morse alphabet has been a bit beyond me. Perhaps White-Man's-Trouble may be able to decipher it. Now, don't you try and shirk that dusting one moment longer." He went out then onto the veranda, shutting the door behind him, and questioned the Krooboy sharply about the drummings. Did he understand them? "Savvy plenty," said White-Man's-Trouble gloomily. "Dem Okky-man's drums." "Well, I didn't suppose it was a Chinaman's, you patent idiot. You fit for understand dem tune?" "Savvy plenty. Dem tune say Okky-men fit for make custom." "That means 'ceremony,' I suppose. Now, what sort of a ceremony will suit the occasion? Dirge of defeat by the ju-ju men, presumably, and then they'll crucify some wretched slave so that his spirit can go into the Beyond and arrange to have the luck changed. I wish Mr. Smith were here, or Slade. No, I'm hanged if I do, though. I've worked this thing off my own bat so far, and I'll see it onto the finish. Dem Okky-men make crucify palaver?" he asked, and translated the hard word by standing up himself spread-eagled against the factory wall. White-Man's-Trouble nodded a dismal assent. "Then, by an' by they grow plenty-too-much more brave, an' they come back one-time an' fight some more." "Then you bet your woolly whiskers it won't do for us to sit quietly taking the air here. Ju-ju's the correct card to play in this country anyway." The Krooboy shivered. "Oh, Carter, I no fit for touch ju-ju."