Here I thought I heard a faint sound in the air like the hiss of a snake, but as it was not repeated and I could see nothing, concluded that I was mistaken.

“Moreover,” he went on, “I will load you with gold dust and any gifts you may desire, and set you safe across the water among your friends, the Mazitu.”

“Look here,” I broke in, “let us understand matters clearly, and, John, do you translate to Stephen.  Now, friend Kalubi, first of all, who and what is this god you talk of?”

“Lord Macumazana, he is a huge ape white with age, or born white, I know not which.  He is twice as big as any man, and stronger than twenty men, whom he can break in his hands, as I break a reed, or whose heads he can bite off in his mouth, as he bit off my finger for a warning.  For that is how he treats the Kalubis when he wearies of them.  First he bites off a finger and lets them go, and next he breaks them like a reed, as also he breaks those who are doomed to sacrifice before the fire.”

“Ah!” I said, “a great ape!  I thought as much.  Well, and how long has this brute been a god among you?”

“I do not know how long.  From the beginning.  He was always there, as the Motombo was always there, for they are one.”

“That’s a lie any way,” I said in English, then went on.  “And who is this Mother of the Holy Flower?  Is she also always there, and does she live in the same place as the ape god?”

“Not so, lord Macumazana.  She dies like other mortals, and is succeeded by one who takes her place.  Thus the present Mother is a white woman of your race, now of middle age.  When she dies she will be succeeded by her daughter, who also is a white woman and very beautiful.  After she dies another who is white will be found, perhaps one who is of black parents but born white.”

“How old is this daughter?” interrupted Brother John in a curiously intent voice, “and who is her father?”

“The daughter was born over twenty years ago, Dogeetah, after the Mother of the Flower was captured and brought here.  She says that the father was a white man to whom she was married, but who is dead.”

Brother John’s head dropped upon his chest, and his eyes shut as though he had gone to sleep.

“As for where the Mother lives,” went on the Kalubi, “it is on the island in the lake at the top of the mountain that is surrounded by water.  She has nothing to do with the White God, but those women who serve her go across the lake at times to tend the fields where grows the seed that the Kalubi sows, of which the corn is the White God’s food.”

“Good,” I said, “now we understand—­not much, but a little.  Tell us next what is your plan?  How are we to come into the place where this great ape lives?  And if we come there, how are we to kill the beast, seeing that your successor, Komba, was careful to prevent us from bringing our firearms to your land?”

“Aye, lord Macumazana, may the teeth of the god meet in his brain for that trick; yes, may he die as I know how to make him die.  That prophecy of which he told you is no prophecy from of old.  It arose in the land within the last moon only, though whether it came from Komba or from the Motombo I know not.  None save myself, or at least very few here, had heard of the iron tubes that throw out death, so how should there be a prophecy concerning them?”