Africa, West -- Fiction; British -- Africa -- Fiction; Indigenous peoples -- Africa, West -- Fiction
"And I saw Ali," said Hamilton, nodding, "and I'll bet he gave the
sentry something and the woman something to play the goat for you."
Bones bowed slightly and distantly. "I cannot discuss my powers, dear
old sir; you realize that there are some subjects too delicate to broach
except with kindred spirits. I shall continue my studies of psychic
mysteries undeterred by the cold breath of scepticism." He saluted
everybody, and departed with chin up and shoulders squared, a picture of
offended dignity.
That night Sanders lay in bed, snuggled up on his right side, which
meant that he had arrived at the third stage of comfort which precedes
that fading away of material life which men call sleep. Half consciously
he listened to the drip, drip, drip of rain on the stoep, and promised
himself that he would call upon Abiboo in the morning, to explain the
matter of a choked gutter, for Abiboo had sworn, by the Prophet and
certain minor relatives of the Great One, that he had cleared every
bird's nest from the ducts about the Residency.
Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip!
Sanders sank with luxurious leisure into the nothingness of the night.
Drip-tap, drip-tap, drip-tap!
He opened his eyes slowly, slid one leg out of bed, and groped for his
slippers. He slipped into the silken dressing-gown which had been flung
over the end of the bed, corded it about him, and switched on the
electric light. Then he passed out into the big common room, with its
chairs drawn together in overnight comradeship, and the solemn tick of
the big clock to emphasize the desolation. He paused a second to switch
on the lights, then went to the door and flung it open.
"Enter!" he said in Arabic.
The man who came in was naked, save for a tarboosh on his head and a
loin-cloth about his middle. His slim body shone with moisture, and
where he stood on the white matting were two little pools. Kano from his
brown feet to the soaked fez, he stood erect with that curious
assumption of pride and equality which the Mussulman bears with less
offence to his superiors than any other race.
"Peace on this house," he said, raising his hand.
"Speak, Ahmet," said Sanders, dropping into a big chair and stretching
back, with his clasped hands behind his head. He eyed the man gravely
and without resentment, for no spy would tap upon his window at night
save that the business was a bad one.
"Lord," said the man, "it is shameful that I should wake your lordship
from your beautiful dream, but I came with the river."[7] He looked down
at his master, and in the way of certain Kano people, who are
dialecticians to a man, he asked: "Lord, it is written in the Sura of
Ya-Sin, 'To the sun it is not given to overtake the moon----'"
[Footnote 7: I came when I could.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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