Aylward, who was in a state of sullen fury, scarcely replied to this talk, except to say that if so, there was one comfort, they would cut his and his master’s also.

“Yes, my Lord,” answered Jeekie, “that quite true, so drink to next meeting, though I think you go different place to me, and when you got tail and I wing, you horn and I crown of glory, of course we not talk much together,” and he held a mug of whisky and water—­a great deal of whisky and a very little water—­to his prisoner’s mouth.

Aylward drained it, feeling a need for stimulant.

“There,” said Jeekie, holding it upside down, “you drink every drop and not offer one to poor old Jeekie.  Well, he turned teetotaller, so no matter.  Good-night, my Lord, I call you if Asiki come.”

“Who are the Asiki?” asked Aylward drowsily.

“Oh! you want to know?  I tell you,” and he began a long, rambling story.

Before he ever came to the end of it Aylward had fallen on his side and was fast asleep.

“Dear me!” said Jeekie, contemplating him, “that whisky very strong, though bottle say same as they drink in House of Common.  That whisky so strong I think I pour away rest of it,” and he did to the last drop, even taking the trouble to wash out the bottle with water.  “Now you no tempt anyone,” he said, addressing the said bottle with a very peculiar smile, “or if you tempt, at least do no harm—­like kiss down telephone!” Then he laid down the bottle on its side and left the tent.

Outside of it three of the head porters, who appeared to be friends of his, were waiting for him, and with these men he engaged in low and earnest conversation.  Next, after they had arrived at some agreement, which they seemed to ratify by a curious oath that involved their crossing and clasping hands in an odd fashion, and other symbols known to West African secret societies, Jeekie went the round of the camp to see that everyone was at his post.  Then he did what most people would have thought a very curious and strange thing, namely climbed the fence and vanished into the forest, where presently a sound was heard as of an owl hooting.

A little while later and another owl began to hoot in the distance, whereat the three head porters nudged each other.  Perhaps they had heard such owls hoot before at night, and perhaps they knew that Jeekie, who had “passed Bonsa,” could only be harmed by the direct command of Bonsa speaking through the mouth of the Asika herself.  Still they might have been interested in the nocturnal conversation of those two owls, which, as is common with such magical fowl in West Africa, had transformed themselves into human shapes, the shape of Jeekie and the shape of an Asiki priest, who was, as it happened, a blood relation of Jeekie.

“Very good, Brother,” said Owl No. 1; “all you want is this white man whom the Asika desires for a husband.  Well, I have done my best for him, but I must think of myself and others, and he goes to great happiness.  I have given him something to make him sleep; do you come presently with eight men, no more, or we shall kill you, to the fence of the camp, and we will hand over the white man, Vernoon, to you to take back to the Asika, who will give you a wonderful reward, such a reward as you have never imagined.  Now let me hear your word.”