“This man saith thou hast killed one of his brethren, and also hast robbed the river god of his gold.” “As to the man,” said I, “he fell into the water as we struggled together and the great fishes devoured him, and as to the gold I found none.” “What, then, is this?” demanded Musa, taking the sinker from the fetish man’s hand and picking up the rag with the fragment of muddy grease in it. “What hast thou to say to these? Are they not thine?” “They are mine, my father, but they are not gold,” said I. He held out the rag with one hand and with the other presented the sinker with its arming still covered with mud. “What is this on the shea butter, and what is sticking to this iron?” he asked. “Surely it is dirt,” said I. “It is very precious dirt,” he replied. “Look more closely.” I did so, and then, to my amazement, I perceived that the mud was charged with gold dust; but so minute were the particles that it was only on the closest inspection that they could be distinguished amidst the grey deposit with which they were mixed. “I see now,” said I, “there is gold among the dirt. I was deceived in the darkness.” “The wizards speak the truth, then,” said he. “Thou didst go to rob their god?” “It is so, my father,” I answered. “Then I fear thou wilt pay a heavy price for thy folly,” rejoined Musa. “The wizards say that thou must go with them.” “And what will they do with me?” “That I know not,” he replied; “but I fear they mean to kill thee.” “And if I will not go with them?” “Then,” said Musa, “they will kill thee and us also.” “It is enough, my father,” said I. “I will go with the wizards.” Our people had gathered round to listen and, as the evidence of my misdoing had come to light, they, like Musa, had been highly incensed with me for thus bringing them into collision with the natives. But my frank acceptance of the responsibility for my actions mollified them considerably, and now the tide was suddenly turned in my favour by Abduláhi. “This cannot be,” he exclaimed. “What! shall a servant of the true God be delivered into the hands of these devil-worshippers? Thou knowest, my father, how these heathen deal with their prisoners, and Alhassan hath told us what things are done by this people. Let us refuse, and then, if they will have it so, we will fight them.” Musa looked round irresolutely. His anger had quite evaporated, and he was evidently loth to let me go to what he suspected would be a horrible death. “What say you, my brethren?” he asked. “Shall we fight the heathen?” “No,” I interrupted, “you shall not fight. For one thing, they are too many and have guns; but also the fault is mine, and if any blood is to be spilt it must be mine, too,” and by way of ending the debate I walked over to the fetish men, one of whom immediately seized me by the wrist.