It Was The Same Thing Sung Softly Over And Over Again, So Softly
That He Could Hardly Make Out The Words.
But at last, catching his
native name among them, he listened more intently than ever, down at
a knot-hole in the wooden floor.
The song was - "They are going to
attack your factory at . . . to-morrow. They are going to attack
your factory at . . . to-morrow," over and over again, until it
ceased; and then he thought he saw something darker than the
darkness round it creep across the yard and disappear in the bush.
Very early in the morning he, with his Kruboys and some guns, went
and established themselves in that threatened factory in force. The
Ukuku Society turned up in the evening, and reconnoitred the
situation, and finding there was more in it than they had expected,
withdrew.
In the course of the next twenty-four hours he succeeded in talking
the palaver successfully with them. He never knew who his singing
friend was, but suspected it was a man whom he had known to be
grateful for some kindness he had done him. Indeed there were, and
are, many natives who have cause to be grateful to him, for he is
deservedly popular among his local tribes, but the man who sang to
him that night deserves much honour, for he did it at a terrific
risk.
Sometimes representatives of the Ukuku fraternity from several
tribes meet together and discuss intertribal difficulties, thereby
avoiding war.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 509 of 705
Words from 140548 to 140798
of 194943
