Nothing surprised Sanders except the ignorance of the average stay-at-home Briton on all matters pertaining to the savage peoples of Africa. Queer things happened in the "black patch"--so the coast officials called Sanders' territory--miraculous, mysterious things, but Sanders was never surprised. He had dealings with folks who believed in ghosts and personal devils, and he sympathised with them, realising that it is very difficult to ascribe all the evils of life to human agencies. Sanders was an unquiet man, or so his constituents thought him, and a little mad; this also was the native view. Worst of all, there was no method in his madness. Other commissioners might be depended upon to arrive after the rains, sending word ahead of their coming. This was a good way--the Isisi, the Ochori, and the N'Gombi people, everlastingly at issue, were agreed upon this--because, with timely warning of the Commissioner's approach, it was possible to thrust out of sight the ugly evidence of fault, to clean up and make tidy the muddle of folly. It was bad to step sheepishly forth from your hut into the clear light of the rising sun, with all the dbris of an overnight feast mutely testifying to your discredit, and face the cold, unwavering eyes of a little brown-faced man in immaculate white. The switch he carried in his hand would be smacking his leg suggestively, and there were always four Houssa soldiers in blue and scarlet in the background, immobile, but alert, quick to obey. Once Sanders came to a N'Gombi village at dawn, when by every known convention he should have been resting in his comfortable bungalow some three hundred miles down river. Sanders came strolling through the village street just as the sun topped the trees and long shadows ran along the ground before the flood of lemon-coloured light. The village was silent and deserted, which was a bad sign, and spoke of overnight orgies. Sanders walked on until he came to the big square near the palaver house, and there the black ruin of a dead fire smoked sullenly. Sanders saw something that made him go raking amongst the embers. "Pah!" said Sanders, with a wry face. He sent back to the steamer for the full force of his Houssa guard, then he walked into the chief's hut and kicked him till he woke. He came out blinking and shivering, though the morning was warm. "Telemi, son of O'ari," said Sanders, "tell me why I should not hang you--man-eater and beast." "Lord," said the chief, "we chopped this man because he was an enemy, stealing into the village at night, and carrying away our goats and our dogs. Besides which, we did not know that you were near by." "I can believe that," said Sanders. A _lo-koli_ beat the villages to wakefulness, and before a silent assembly the headman of the N'Gombi village was scientifically flogged. Then Sanders called the elders together and said a few words of cheer and comfort.