“Very well” he said.  “Kurtz und gut.  I will leave the country.  Permit me to take only food enough, and my porters, and one gun!”

“No guns!” said Fred promptly.

Schillingschen sighed resignedly, and we went out of the tent to talk over ways and means.  In spite of our recent experience of Germany’s colonial government we were still so ignorant of the workings of the mens germanica that we took his surrender at face value.

The problem of getting him down to the lake shore safely was none too simple.  I was soft hearted and headed enough to propose that we should loose his hands, now that he had surrendered, and permit him reasonable liberty.  Will—­least inclined of all of us to cruelty—­was disposed to agree with me.  We might have overborne Fred’s objections if Coutlass and Brown, returning from walking off their overnight debauch together, had not shouted and beckoned us in a mysterious sort of way, as if some new discovery puzzled them.

We walked about a hundred and fifty yards to where they stood by a row of low ant-hills.  Neither of them was in a sociable frame of mind.  It was obvious from the moment we could see their faces clearly that they had not called us to enjoy a joke.  They stood like two dumb bird-dogs, pointing, and we had to come about abreast of them before we knew why we were summoned.

There lay five clean-picked skeletons, one on each ant-hill.  One was a big bird’s; one looked like a dog’s; the third was a snake’s; the fourth a young antelope’s; and the fifth was certainly that of a yellow village cur, for some of the hairs from the tip of its tail were remaining, not yet borne off by the ants.

The skeletons lay as if the creatures had died writhing.  There were pegs driven into the earth that had evidently held them in position by the sinews.  Most peculiar circumstance of all, there was a camp-chair standing very near by, with its feet deep in the red earth, as if a very heavy man had sat in it.

I went back to the camp and told Kazimoto to bring one of the professor’s men.  Kazimoto had to do the talking, for we did not know the man’s language, nor he ours.

Yes, the professor always did that to animals.  He liked to sit and watch them and keep the kites away.  He said it was white man’s knowledge (science?).  Yes, the animals were pegged out alive on the ant-hills, and the professor would sit with his watch in his hand, counting the minutes until they ceased from writhing.  It was part of the duty of the ten to catch animals and bring them alive to him in camp for that purpose.  No, they did not know why he did it, except that it was white maia’s knowledge.  No, natives did not do that way, except now and then to their enemies.  The professor always made threats he would do so to them if they ran away from him, or disobeyed, or misbehaved.  Certainly they believed him!  Why should they not believe him?  Did not Germans always keep their word when they talked of punishment?