Then he went back to the _Zaire_ and set a guard. In the morning Sanders turned the nose of the _Zaire_ down stream, and at sunset came to the big river--he had been sailing a tributary--and where the two rivers meet is the city of the Akasava. They brought the paramount chief of all the people to him, and there was a palaver on the little bridge with a lantern placed on the deck and one limp candle therein to give light to the assembly. "Chief," said Sanders, "there is a dead white man in your territory, and I will have the hearts of the men who killed him, or by The Death I will have your head." He said this evenly, without passion, yet he swore by _Ewa_, which means death and is a most tremendous oath. The chief, squatting on the deck, fidgeting with his hands, shivered. "Lord," he said, in a cracked voice, "this is a business of which I know nothing; this thing has happened in my territory, but so far from my hand that I can neither punish nor reward." Sanders was silent save for an unsympathetic sniff. "Also, master," said the chief, "if the truth be told, this palaver is not of the Akasava alone, for all along the big river men are rebellious, obeying a new ju-ju more mighty than any other." "I know little of ju-jus," said Sanders shortly, "only I know that a white man has died and his spirit walks abroad and will not rest until I have slain men. Whether it be you or another I do not care--the palaver is finished." The chief rose awkwardly, brought up his hand in salute, and went shuffling down the sloping plank to land. As for Sanders, he sat thinking, smoking one cigar after another. He sat long into the night. Once he called his servant to replace the candle in the lantern and bring him a cushion for his head. He sat there until the buzzing little village hushed to sleep, until there was no sound but the whispering of bat wings as they came and went from the middle island--for bats love islands, especially the big vampire bats. At two o'clock in the morning he looked at his watch, picked up the lantern, and walked aft. He picked a way over sleeping men until he came to that part of the deck where a Houssa squatted with loaded carbine watching the two prisoners. He stirred them gently with his foot, and they sat up blinking at his light. "You must tell me some more," he said. "How came this bad ju-ju to your land?" The man he addressed looked up at him. "Lord, how comes rain or wind?" he said. "It was a sudden thought amongst the people. There were certain rites and certain dances, and we chopped a man; then we all painted our faces with camwood, and the maidens said 'Kill!'" Sanders could be very patient.