“Death happened to the Motombo, Hans.  Here, Stephen, give me your hand and my clothes, and, Mavovo, hold the rifle and the canoe while I put them on.”

Then I landed and stepping into the reeds, pulled off my wet shirt and pants, which I stuffed away into the big pockets of my shooting coat, for I did not want to lose them, and put on the dry things that, although scratchy, were quite good enough clothing in that warm climate.  After this I treated myself to a good sup of brandy from the flask, and ate some food which I seemed to require.  Then I told them the story, and cutting short their demonstrations of wonder and admiration, bade them place the Holy Flower in the canoe and get in themselves.  Next with the help of Hans who poked out his fingers through the skin of the gorilla’s arms, I carefully re-loaded the rifle, setting the last cap on the nipple.  This done, I joined them in the canoe, taking my seat in the prow and bidding Brother John and Stephen paddle.

Making a circuit to avoid observation as before, in a very short time we reached the mouth of the cave.  I leant forward and peeped round the western wall of rock.  Nobody seemed to be stirring.  There the fires burned dimly, there the huddled shape of the Motombo still crouched upon the platform.  Silently, silently we disembarked, and I formed our procession while the others looked askance at the horrible face of the dead Motombo.

I headed it, then came the Mother of the Flower, followed by Hans, playing his part of the god of the forest; then Brother John and Stephen carrying the Holy Flower.  After it walked Hope, while Mavovo brought up the rear.  Near to one of the fires, as I had noted on our first passage of the cave, lay a pile of the torches which I have already mentioned.  We lit some of them, and at a sign from me, Mavovo dragged the canoe back into its little dock and tied the cord to its post.  Its appearance there, apparently undisturbed, might, I thought, make our crossing of the water seem even more mysterious.  All this while I watched the doors in the sides of the cave, expecting every moment to see the women rush out.  But none came.  Perhaps they slept, or perhaps they were absent; I do not know to this day.

We started, and in solemn silence threaded our way down the windings of the cave, extinguishing our torches as soon as we saw light at its inland outlet.  At a few paces from its mouth stood a sentry.  His back was towards the cave, and in the uncertain gleams of the moon, struggling with the clouds, for a thin rain still fell, he never noted us till we were right on to him.  Then he turned and saw, and at the awful sight of this procession of the gods of his land, threw up his arms, and without a word fell senseless.  Although I never asked, I think that Mavovo took measures to prevent his awakening.  At any rate when I looked back later on, I observed that he was carrying a big Pongo spear with a long shaft, instead of the copper weapon which he had taken from one of the coffins.