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Updated: June 7, 2025
N'gori, the chief, his brows all wrinkled in terror, his shaking hands at his mouth in a gesture of fear, was no more than a spectator, for his masterful son limped from side to side, consulting his counsellors. Presently the men who had bound Bones stepped aside, their work completed, and M'fosa came limping across to his prisoners. "Now," he mocked.
None did hurt to M'fosa, and he grew to be a man, and as he grew and his father became first counsellor, then petty chief, and, at last, paramount chief of the nation, M'fosa developed in hauteur and bitterness, for this high pole rainwashed, and sun-burnt, was a reminder, not of the strong hand that had been stretched out to save him, but of his own infirmity.
An envoy came to the Ochori country bearing green branches of the Isisi palm, which signifies peace, and at the head of the mission for mission it was came M'fosa. "Lord Bosambo," said the man who limped, "N'gori the chief, my father, has sent me, for he desires your friendship and help; also your loving countenance at his great feast." "Oh, oh!" said Bosambo, drily, "what king's feast is this?"
The truth is that M'fosa was born in a fishing village at a period of time when all the energies of the Akasava were devoted to checking and defeating the predatory raidings of the N'gombi, under that warlike chief G'osimalino, who also kept other nations on the defensive, and held the river basin, from the White River, by the old king's territory, to as far south as the islands of the Lesser Isisi.
If he could gain time time for some miraculous news to come to Hamilton, who, blissfully unconscious of the treachery to his second-in-command, was sleeping twenty miles downstream unconscious, too, of the Akasava fleet of canoes which was streaming towards his little steamer. Perhaps M'fosa guessed his thoughts.
When M'fosa was three months old, Sanders had come with a force of soldiers, had hanged G'osimalino to a high tree, had burnt his villages and destroyed his crops and driven the remnants of his one-time invincible army to the little known recesses of the Itusi Forest.
"Is it hard for you this fetish stick which Sandi has placed?" "You're a low cad," said Bones, dropping into English in his wrath. "You're a low, beastly bounder, an' I'm simply disgusted with you." "What does he say?" they asked M'fosa. "He speaks to his gods in his own tongue," answered the limper; "for he is greatly afraid."
"I carry spears to a Dance of Rejoicing," he said significantly, "else I would not Dance or Rejoice." M'fosa showed his teeth, and his eyes were filled with hateful fires. His other invitation was more successful. Hamilton of the Houssas was at the Isisi city when the deputation called upon him. "Here's a chance for you, Bones," he said.
He it was who drowned Kibusi the woodman, who lost three fingers by the slipping of the axe; he was the leader of the young men who fell upon the boy Sandilo-M'goma, who was crippled by fire; and though the fetish stood a menace to all, reading thoughts and clothed with authority, yet M'fosa defied spirits and went about his work reckless of consequence.
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