All of this Kaneke repeated readily enough until he came to the words "So I swear by the Engoi", at which he jibbed, and indeed stopped dead.
"Continue," said Arkle, but he would not.
"As you will," went on Arkle, "but understand that if you refuse, you die, as a murderer deserves to do," and, bending down, he seized Kaneke by the hair with his left hand, preparing to cut off his head with the curved Somali knife.
Now Kaneke, evidently in a great fright, appealed to me.
"O Lord Macumazahn," he cried, "save my life, I pray you!"
"Why should I?" I answered. "Just now you deserted me and my people, so that my two brave hunters are dead. Had you with the bearers stayed behind to fight with us, I think that they would not have been dead—but this you can talk over with them in that land whither you are going. Again, you tried to murder the white lord for reasons which I do not understand, and after you had sworn to me that you would not harm him. By his strength he overthrew you, and now your life is justly forfeit to him. Yet out of the greatness of his heart he offers to spare you if you will swear a certain oath to him upon a certain name. You refuse to swear that oath upon that name. So what more is there to be said?"
By this time, although he had not seen them, for his back was towards them and they remained silent, watching these proceedings with a kind of fascinated stare, evidently Kaneke remembered that Arkle had addressed some of the Dabanda people, who must therefore be present. To these he made his next appeal, calling out:
"Help me, O my brothers, you over whom I have been appointed to rule. Would you see me done to death by this white wanderer who comes to our land for no good purpose? Help me, O Guardians of the Holy Lake and of the Shadow that rests upon the lake."
"Yes," said Arkle. "Come forward, you Dabanda, laying down your spears, for know that he who first lifts a spear shall be dealt with by the Lord Macumazahn. Come forward, I say, and judge between me and this man."
To my astonishment those Dabanda obeyed. They laid down their spears, every one of them, and advanced to within a few paces of us, led by the little withered old man with keen eyes, who moved as lightly and silently as does a cat, the same man who had whispered into Arkle's ear. Arkle looked at this man and said:
"Greeting, Kumpana, my friend and guide. I thank you for the counsel you gave to me but now, for I know you to be wise and great among your people and it was you who taught me all that I have learned of them and of this Kaneke. Judge now between me and him. You have heard the story. According to your custom, is not this man's life forfeit to me whom he strove to murder?"
"It is forfeit," answered Kumpana, "unless he buys it back with the oath which you have demanded of him."
"And if he swears that oath, must he not, under it, become my servant and give to me his place, his power, and his rights among the Dabanda?"
"That is so, White Lord."
"And if he swears it and breaks the oath, what then, Kumpana?"
"Then, Lord, you can loose upon him the curse of the Engoi, and it will surely be fulfilled. Is it not so, Dabanda?"
"It is so," they assented.
"You have heard, Kaneke; yes, out of the lips of your own people you have learned their law. Choose now. Will you swear, or will you die?"
"I swear," said Kaneke hoarsely, as the sharp knife—his own— approached his neck. "I swear," and slowly he repeated those words which before he had refused to speak, transferring all his rights and privileges to Arkle and calling down upon his own head the curse of the Engoi if he should break the oath. I noticed that as he invoked this fate upon himself, the man shivered, and reflected that after all there might be something in the curse of the Engoi, or that he believed there was. Indeed, sceptical as I am, I began to feel that all this queer story had more in it than I had hitherto imagined, and that I was coming to the heart of one of those Central African mysteries of which most white men only learn in the vaguest fashion, perhaps from prejudiced and unsympathetic sources, and then often enough but by obscure hints and symbolical fables.
The oath finished, Kaneke kissed the white man's foot, which I suppose was part of the ceremony, and strove to rise. But forcing him to his knees again, Arkle addressed the little withered old man who stood watching all.
"Tell me," he said, "who and what are you, Kumpana?"
"Lord, though I until now have hid it from you, I am the head of the Council of the Shadow, he who rules in this land when the Shadow has passed from the world and before she returns again."
"Are you then he who weds the Shadow, Kumpana?"
"Nay, Lord. He who is called Shield of the Shadow dies when the Shadow passes. I am but a minister, an executor of decrees. As such I led you to this land, whence you were hunted because you would not be obedient, but broke the law. Mighty must be the strength that guards you, or by now you would be dead."
"If I have erred, O Kumpana, I have paid the price of error. Am I, then, forgiven?"
"Lord, I think that you are forgiven, as this Kaneke, who also erred in his youth in a worse fashion, was forgiven, or rather," he added, correcting himself, "suffered to go unpunished."
"Who and what is Kaneke?" Arkle asked again.
"Kaneke is he who was destined to be the Shield of the Shadow when she appears to rule for her appointed day. For his sin against the Engoi he was driven from the land and lived far off, where the white lord who is called Watcher–by–Night found him. At the proper time he was ordered back that his fate might be fulfilled, and returned bringing the white lord, Watcher–by–Night, with him, as also was decreed. The rest you know."
"Kaneke tried to murder me and bought his life by a certain oath, selling to me his place and rights. Shall I then be known and named Shield of the Shadow in place of this Kaneke?"
"It would seem so, Lord," answered Kumpana, a little doubtfully as I thought. "But first the matter must be submitted to the Council of the Shadow, of which I am only one. It may be," he added after a pause, "that the Council will call upon you to buy the Shadow at a great price."
Then I, Allan, took up my parable, saying:
"Kumpana and men of the Dabanda, I, a white hunter, have been led, or trapped, into a land that is full of mysteries which as yet I do not understand. I have rescued this white lord when he was about to be killed. I have brought him here, fighting my way through warriors who seemed to be your enemies. In so doing I have lost two servants of mine, brave men whom I loved, who came to their deaths by the treachery of yonder Kaneke and therefore my heart is sore. He deserted us, hoping that in like fashion I should desert the other white lord who is lame, that thereby I might save my life. I did not desert him, and you have seen the end of that story. Now we are all weary, and sad because of the death of the two hunters who sacrificed themselves for us; hungry also, needing food and rest and sleep. The white lord whom you name Wanderer has made his bargain with you, a strange bargain which bewilders me. I would make mine, which is simpler. If I and my servant here, the yellow man, come on into your country, have we peace? Do you swear by the Engoi, who seems to be your goddess, and by the Shadow her priestess, that no harm shall come to us and that when I desire it in the future, I shall be helped to leave your country again, you giving me all that I may need for my journey? If you do not swear, then I turn and go back whence I came, if Heaven permits me to do so."