"True, but, after all, you are the Prince and heir. Surely he ought to have followed your desire as to the route we should take." "The route!" he cried. "Since we left the river we have travelled in these cross-paths in such an amazing manner that at present I have no idea where we are." "The carriers have, or they would not be in such high spirits," I observed. "Yes, but the strangest part of the affair is that every man among them fears to tell us anything. I have secretly questioned most of them as to Kouaga's motive, and all I can glean is that the fetish-man at Tomboura gathered them together and, after performing some of the usual rites and sacrificing to our Crocodile-god Zomara, told them if a word were spoken to us regarding our route or destination the dread god will meet us in the forest path and devour all of us. Not one shall survive." "And you believe this pagan humbug?" I exclaimed, in disgust. He opened his dark eyes wide, regarding me in astonishment. I had never before ridiculed his religion. "The jujus around my neck preserve me from every evil, except those worked by Zomara. He is the great god whose power only the fetish-man can withstand. Slaves, princes, kings, all sacrifice to him. If we offend him death or torture is inevitably our punishment." "Do you think you've offended him?" I inquired. "I know not," he sighed with a serious look. "If I have, then nothing can save me; the fetish-man of Tomboura has worked evil against me." "Well," I said, "this is my first experience of Africa, but it strikes me very forcibly that these fetish-men of yours will do anything they are paid to do. What was there to prevent Kouaga paying that hideous old demon at Tomboura to utter his horrible incantations and so frighten our carriers into silence?" "Zomara is a terrible god. None dare tamper with him, or utter his name in vain threats," Omar answered. "Well, whoever he is I still stick to my opinion," I said. "Depend upon it Kouaga is at the bottom of this conspiracy of silence." Just at that moment the black face of that worthy, rendered darker by the snow-white haick that surrounded it, appeared among the tangled bamboos. He had missed us, and had come back to search. Yes, my surmise seemed correct. He was watching us closely and trying to understand our conversation. That evening when we halted and the natives went into the bush to collect fuel for the fire, I managed to take one or two of them aside and secretly inquire our destination. But I got the same answer always. "Zomara has tied our tongues. He commands us to be mute, or we shall be destroyed to the last one."