In a wood and in a place of green trees M'lama sat tossing her sheep shanks, and a dense throng of solemn men and women squatted or sat or tiptoed about her--leaving her a respectable space for her operations. A bright fire crackled and glowed at her side, and into this, from time to time, she thrust little sticks of plaited straw and drew them forth blazing and spluttering until with a quick breath she extinguished the flame and examined the grey ash. "Listen, all people," she said, "and be silent, lest my great ju-ju strike you dead. What man gave me this?" "It was I, M'lama," said an eager woman, her face wrinkled with apprehension as she held up her brown palm. The witch peered forward at the speaker. "O F'sela!" she chanted, "there is a man-child for thee who shall be greater than chiefs; also you will suffer from a sickness which shall make you mad." "O ko!" Half dismayed by the promise of her own fate; half exalted by the career the witch had sketched for her unborn son, the woman stared incredulously, fearfully at the swaying figure by the fire. Again a plaited stick went into the fire, was withdrawn and blown out, and the woman again prophesied. And sometimes it was of honours and riches she spoke, and sometimes--and more often--of death and disaster. Into this shuddering group strode Bones, very finely clad in white raiment yet limp withal, for the night was close and the way had been long and rough. The sitters scrambled to their feet, their knuckles at their teeth, for this was a moment of great embarrassment. "Oh, M'lama," said Bones agreeably, and spoke in the soft dialect of the Isisi by-the-River, "prophesy for me!" She looked up sullenly, divining trouble for herself. "Lord," she said, with a certain smooth venom, "there is a great sickness for you--and behold you will go far away and die, and none shall miss you." Bones went very red, and shook an indignant forefinger at the offending prophetess. "You're a wicked old storyteller!" he stammered. "You're depressin' the people--you naughty girl! I hate you--I simply loathe you!" As he spoke in English she was not impressed. "Goin' about the country puttin' people off their grub, by Jove!" he stormed; "tellin' stories ... oh, dash it, I shall have to be awfully severe with you!" Severe he was, for he arrested her, to the relief of her audience, who waited long enough to discover whether or not her ju-ju would strike him dead, and being obviously disappointed by her failure to provide this spectacle, melted away. Close to the gangway of the _Zaire_ she persuaded one of her Houssa guard to release his hold. She persuaded him by the simple expedient of burying her sharp white teeth in the fleshy part of his arm--and bolted. They captured her half mad with panic and fear of her unknown fate, and brought her to the boat.