This order threw the poor creatures, who were evidently much attached to their mistress and her daughter, into a great state of consternation.  The eldest of them all, a tall, thin old lady with white wool and pink eyes who looked, as Stephen said, like an Angora rabbit, prostrated herself and kissing the Mother’s foot, asked when she would return, since she and the “Daughter of the Flower” were all they had to love, and without them they would die of grief.

Suppressing her evident emotion as best she could, the Mother replied that she did not know; it depended on the will of Heaven and the Motombo.  Then to prevent further argument she bade them bring their picks with which they worked the land; also poles, mats, and palmstring, and help to dig up the Holy Flower.  This was done under the superintendence of Stephen, who here was thoroughly in his element, although the job proved far from easy.  Also it was sad, for all these women wept as they worked, while some of them who were not dumb, wailed aloud.

Even Miss Hope cried, and I could see that her mother was affected with a kind of awe.  For twenty years she had been guardian of this plant, which I think she had at last not unnaturally come to look upon with some of the same veneration that was felt for it by the whole Pongo people.

“I fear,” she said, “lest this sacrilege should bring misfortune upon us.”

But Brother John, who held very definite views upon African superstitions, quoted the second commandment to her, and she became silent.

We got the thing up at last, or most of it, with a sufficiency of earth to keep it alive, injuring the roots as little as possible in the process.  Underneath it, at a depth of about three feet, we found several things.  One of these was an ancient stone fetish that was rudely shaped to the likeness of a monkey and wore a gold crown.  This object, which was small, I still have.  Another was a bed of charcoal, and amongst the charcoal were some partially burnt bones, including a skull that was very little injured.  This may have belonged to a woman of a low type, perhaps the first Mother of the Flower, but its general appearance reminded me of that of a gorilla.  I regret that there was neither time nor light to enable me to make a proper examination of these remains, which we found it impossible to bring away.

Mrs. Eversley told me afterwards, however, that the Kalubis had a tradition that the god once possessed a wife which died before the Pongo migrated to their present home.  If so, these may have been the bones of that wife.  When it was finally clear of the ground on which it had grown for so many generations, the great plant was lifted on to a large mat, and after it had been packed with wet moss by Stephen in a most skilful way, for he was a perfect artist at this kind of work, the mat was bound round the roots in such a fashion that none of the contents could escape.  Also each flower scape was lashed to a thin bamboo so as to prevent it from breaking on the journey.  Then the whole bundle was lifted on to a kind of bamboo stretcher that we made and firmly secured to it with palm-fibre ropes.