Facing the practical situation, however, I considered various alternatives, like dredging, or poisons, and none of them seemed advisable. I told Romilayu, “The only method that figures is a bomb. One blast will kill all these little buggers, and when they’re floating dead on top all we have to do is come and skim them off, and the Arnewi can water their cattle again. It’s simple.”
When my idea did get across to him at last, he said, “Oh, no, no, sah.”
“What, ‘No, no, sah!’ Don’t be a jerk, I’m an old soldier and I know what I’m talking about.” But it was no use arguing with him; the idea of an explosion frightened him and I said, “Okay, Romilayu, let’s go to our shack then and get some sleep. It’s been a big day and we’ve got lots to do tomorrow.”
So we went back to the hut, and he began to say his prayers. Romilayu had begun to get my number; I believe he liked me, but it was dawning on him that I was rash and unlucky and acted without sufficient reflection. So he sank on his knees and his haunches pressed on the muscles of his calves and spread them; his big heels were visible beneath. He pressed his hands together, palm to palm, with the fingers spread wide apart under his chin. Often I would say to him, or mutter, “Put in a good word for me,” and I half meant it.
When Romilayu was done praying he lay on his side and tucked one hand between his knees, which were drawn up. The other hand he slipped under his cheek. In this position he always slept. I, too, lay down on my blanket in the dark hut, out of range of the moonbeams. I don’t often suffer from insomnia but tonight I had a lot of things on my mind, the prophecy of Daniel, the cat, the frogs, the ancient-looking place, the weeping delegation, the wrestling match with Itelo, and the queen having looked into my heart and telling me of the grun-tu-molani. All this was mixed up in my head and excited me greatly, and I kept thinking of the best way to blow up those frogs. Naturally I know a little something about explosives, and I thought I could take out the two batteries and manufacture a pretty good bomb in my flashlight case by filling it with powder from the shells of my.375 H and H Magnum. They carry quite a charge, believe me, and could be used on an elephant. I had bought the.375 especially for this trip to Africa after reading about it in Life or Look. A fellow from Michigan who had one went to Alaska as soon as his vacation started; he flew to Alaska and hired a guide to track a Kodiak bear; they found the bear and chased him over cliffs and marshes and shot him at four hundred yards. Myself, I used to have a certain interest in hunting, but as I grew older it seemed a strange way to relate to nature. What I mean is, a man goes into the external world, and all he can do with it is to shoot it? It doesn’t make sense. So in October when the season starts and the gunsmoke pours out of the bushes and the animals panic and run back and forth, I go out and pinch the hunters for shooting on my posted property. I take them to the Justice of the Peace and he fines them.
Thus having decided in the hut to take the shells and use them in my bomb, I lay grinning at the surprise those frogs had coming, and also somewhat at myself, because I was anticipating the gratitude of Willatale and Mtalba and Itelo and all the people; and I went so far as to imagine that the queen would elevate me to a position equal to her own. But I would say, “No, no. I didn’t leave home to achieve power or glory, and any little favor I do you is free.”
With all this going on within me I couldn’t sleep, and if I were going to prepare the bomb tomorrow I needed my rest badly. I am something of a crank about sleep, for somehow if I get seven and a quarter hours instead of eight I feel afflicted and drag myself around, although there’s nothing really wrong with me. It’s just another idea. That’s how it is with my ideas; they seem to get strong while I weaken.
While I was lying awake I had a visit from Mtalba. Coming in, she shut off the moonlight in the doorway and then sat down near me on the floor, sighing, and took my hand, and talked softly and made me touch her skin, which was certainly wonderfully soft; she had a right to be vain of it. Though I felt it, I acted oblivious and refused to respond, but my bulk lay extended on the blanket and I fixed my gaze on the thatch while I tried to concentrate on putting together the bomb. I unscrewed the top of the flashlight (in thought) and dumped the batteries in the front end; I cut open the shells and let the powder trickle into the flashlight case. But how would I ignite it? The water presented me with a special problem. What would I use for a fuse, and how would I keep it from getting wet? I might take some strands from the wick of my Austrian lighter and soak them for a long time in the fluid. Or else a shoelace; a wax shoelace might be perfect. Such was my line of thought, and all the while Princess Mtalba sat beside me licking me and smooching my fingers. I felt very guilty about that and thought, if she knew what offenses I had committed with those same hands, she might think twice before lifting them to her lips. Now she was on the very finger with which I had aimed the revolver at the cat and a pang shot through it and into my arm and so on through the rest of the nervous system. If she had been able to understand I would have said, “Beautiful lady (for she was considered a great beauty and I could see why) —“Beautiful lady, I am not the man you think I am. I have incredible things on my conscience and am very fierce in character. Even my pigs were afraid of me.”
And yet it isn’t always easy to deter women. They do take such types of men upon themselves-drunkards, fools, criminals. Love is what gives them the power to do it, I guess, canceling all those terrible things. I am not dumb and blind, and I have observed a connection between women’s love and the great principles of life. If I hadn’t picked this up by myself, surely Lily would have pointed it out to me.
Romilayu didn’t wake but slept on with one hand slipped under his scarred cheek and the hair swelled out from his head to one side. Glassy rainbows from the moon passed across the doorway, and there were fires outside made with dried dung and thorn branches. The Arnewi were sitting up with their dying cattle. As Mtalba continued to sigh and caress and smooch me and lead my finger-tips over her skin and between her lips, I realized she had come for a purpose, this mountainous woman with the indigo hair, and I lifted my arm and let it fall on Romilayu’s face. He opened his eyes then but didn’t remove the hand from under his cheek or otherwise change his position. “Romilayu.”
“Whut you want, sah?” said he, still lying there.
“Sit up, sit up. We have a visitor.” He was unsurprised by this and he rose. Moonlight came in by way of the wicker-work and the door, the moon growing more clean and pure, as if perfuming the air, not only lighting it. Mtalba sat with her arms at rest upon the slopes of her body. “Find out what is the purpose of this visit,” I said.
And so he began to talk to her, and addressed her formally, for he was a great stickler, Romilayu, for correctness, African style, and was on his court manners even in the middle of the night. Then Mtalba started to speak. She had a sweet voice, sometimes rapid and sometimes drawling in her throat. From this conversation the fact came out that she wanted me to buy her, and, realizing that I didn’t have the bride price, she had brought it to me tonight. “Got to pay, sah, fo’ womans.”
“That I know, pal.”
“You don’ pay, womans no respect himself, sah.”
Then I started to say that I was a rich man and could afford any kind of price, but I realized that money had nothing to do with it and I said, “Hah, that’s very handsome of her. She is built like Mount Everest but has a lot of delicacy. Tell her I thank her and send her home. What time is it, I wonder. Christ, if I don’t get my sleep I’ll be in no condition to take on those frogs tomorrow. Don’t you see, Romilayu, the thing is up to me alone?”