"Thus," said Kisu, "if there are men in these countries and their customs resemble those of the Ngao villages, and Ukungu, we shall make clear to them our peaceful intentions. This may save us much trouble."

"That sounds intelligent to me," I said. "If there are men in these countries, they may then be encouraged to leave us alone."

"Precisely," said Kisu.

"And we might, of course, if need be," I said, "bring the canoe about."

"Yes," said Kisu.

We then took the canoe to the right. In half of an Ahn the island was on our left. It was pasangs in length.

"I do not even think there are men in these countries," said Ayari. "We are too far to the east."

"You are probably right," said Kisu. It was then that we heard the drums. "Can you read the drums?" I asked. "No," said Ayari.

"Kisu?" I asked.

"No," he said, "but doubtless they are announcing our arrival."

27

The Fishing Village; A Slave Begs To Be Touched; Ayari Acquires Information

They were scampering about on the scaffolding, it extending far out into the river. We could understand little of what they said. From the scaffolding, a double row of peeled logs, about ten feet apart, with numerous connecting bars and crossbars, fastened together with vines, more than a hundred yards in length, extending out into the flowing waters, hung numerous vine ropes, attached to which were long, conical, woven baskets, fish traps.

"Away! Away!" screamed one of the men, first in Ushindi and then in Ukungu. He, and others, waved their arms aversively. There were only men and male children on the scaffolding. Back on the shore, almost invisible in the jungle, were the huts of the village. On the palm-thatched roofs of these huts, in rows, exposed to the sun, were drying fish. We could see women on the shore, some with bowls, come out to the edge of the river to see what was occurring.

"Go away!" cried the fellow in Ukungu and Ushindi.

"We are friends!" called Ayari, speaking in Ushindi.

"Go away!" screamed the fellow again, this time in Ushindi. He was, we gathered, the village linguist. Other men, too, some eight or nine of them, and some seven or eight boys, of various ages, came out farther on the platform, balancing themselves expertly over the flowing waters, to bid us be on our way.

"I would know," I said, "if Shaba came this way, and how long ago."

More than one of the men now drew forth knives and threatened us.

"They are not overly friendly," observed Ayari.

"This is not good," said Kisu. "We could use supplies, bush knives and trade goods."

"With what will you purchase them?" I asked.

"You have the golden chain, given to you by Bila Huruma," he said.

I touched the chain. "Yes," I said, "that is true."

I lifted the chain from my neck and displayed It to the men on the long scaffolding.

They continued to encourage us to be on our way.

"It is no use," said Ayari.

Even the children were screaming at us, imitating their elders. To them, of course, objectively, I supposed it made no difference whether we came ashore or not. This was the first settlement we had come to on the river. It lay only an Ahn beyond the first island, one of several, we had encountered.

"Let us continue on our way," said Kisu.

I heard a sudden scream, that of a boy, and, looking about, saw one of the lads, some eight years in age, tumble from the scaffolding. He began almost immediately to be washed downstream. Without thinking I dove into the water. When I surfaced I heard Kisu calling out to turn the canoe. I stroked quickly after the boy, moving swiftly in the current. Then I was to where I thought, given my speed, he should be, or to where I thought I might be able to see him. He was not there. A few moments later the canoe glided beside me.

"Do you see him?" I called out to Ayari.

"He is safe," said Ayari. "Come into the canoe."

"Where is he?" I asked, crawling dripping over the bulwark of the light vessel.

"Look," said Kisu.

I looked back, and, to my surprise, saw the lad half shinnied up one of the poles of the scaffolding. He was grinning.

"He swims like a fish," said Ayari. "He was never in danger."

None of the men, I noted, had leapt from the platform. Yet the boy had screamed. Yet he had seemed to be washed downstream, apparently in jeopardy of being carried away, by the current.

One of the men on the platform gestured for us to come closer. He had sheathed his jagged-edged knife, a fisherman's knife. We paddled closer. As we did so he helped the lad climb up to the surface of the scaffolding. I saw that both the men and boys stood upon it, and moved upon it, with a nimble, sure footing. They were less likely to fall from it, I realized, than an Earthling to tumble from one of his sidewalks. They knew it intimately and conducted the business of their livelihood upon it for hours a day.

The lad, and others, were grinning at us. One of the men. perhaps his father, patted him on the head, congratulating him. He had played his part well.

"Come ashore," said one of the men in Ushindi, he who had earlier used this language, and Ukungu as well. "You would have saved the boy." he said. "It is thus clear that you are our friends. Be welcome here. Come ashore, our friends, to our village."

"It was a trick," said Kisu.

"Yes," I said.

"But a nice trick," said Ayari.

"I do not like to be tricked," said Kisu.

"Perhaps, on the river," I said, "one cannot be too careful."

"Perhaps," said Kisu.

We then guided the canoe about the platform and made for shore.

We tied the hands of the three girls behind them, and sat them in the dirt.

We were within a stick-sided, palm-thatched hut in the fishing village. A small fire in a clay bowl dimly illuminated the interior of the hut. There were shelves in the hut, of sticks, on which were vessels and masks.

Individual tethers ran from the bound wrists of each girl to a low, stout, sunken slave post at one side of the hut.

There had been much singing and dancing. It was now late. Kiss and I sat opposite one another, across the clay bowl with its small fire.

"Where is Ayari?" I asked Kisu.

"He remains with the chief," said Kisu. "He is not yet satisfied."

"What more does he wish to learn?" I asked.

"I am not sure," said Kisu.

We had learned that three boats, with more than one hundred and twenty men, several in blue tunics, had passed this village several days ago. They had not stopped.

We were far behind Shaba and his men.

"Master," said Tende.

"Yes," said Kisu.

"We are naked," she said.

"Yes," said Kisu.

"You traded the bit of silk you had permitted me to wear about my hips," she said. "You traded the shells about my throat. You traded even the shells about my ankle."

"Yes," said Kisu. The shells and silk, interestingly, had been of considerable value to these fishermen. The shells were from Thassa islands and their types were unknown in the interior. Similarly silk was unknown in the interior. The shells from about the throats and ankles of all the girls, of course, had been traded. We had also traded, of course, the strips of red-and-black-printed rep-cloth from about the hips of the two blond slaves. We had retained the golden chain which I wore, which had been a gift of Bila Huruma. It might be useful, we speculated, at a later date. In civilization, of course, it had considerable value. Here we did not know if it would have more value than metal knives or coils of copper wire. The results of our trading had been two baskets of dried fish, a sack of meal and vegetables, a length of bark cloth, plaited and pounded, from the pod tree, dyed red, a handful of colored, wooden beads, and, most importantly, two pangas, two-foot-long, heavy, curve-bladed bush knives. It was the latter two implements in which Kisu had been most interested. I did not doubt but what they might prove useful.