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Updated: June 7, 2025
"Noble chiefs of the Ochori," began Bosambo, and Notiki nudged his neighbour with a sharp elbow, for Notiki was an old man of forty-three, and thin. "Our lord desires us to give him something," he said. He was a bitter man this Notiki, a relative of former chiefs of the Ochori, and now no more than over-head of four villages. "Wa!" said his neighbour, with his shining face turned to Bosambo.
"Written in my city of Ochori and given to my brother, Mahomet Ali, who shall carry it to M'ilitani at the mouth of the river." "Poor old Bones!" said Hamilton, as he slowly counted the money. "Poor old Bones!" he repeated. He took an account book from his desk and opened it at a page marked "Bosambo." His entry was significant. To a long list of credits which ran: Received L30. Received L25.
He came round the river bend to the Ochori city, with flags fluttering at his white mast, with his soldiers drawn up on deck, with his buglers tootling, and his siren sounding, and Bosambo, ever ready to jump to the conclusion that he was being honoured for his own sake, found that this time, at least, he had made no mistake and rose to the occasion.
And, lord, do not the people of the Ochori say that this child M'sambo is the light of his father's life? O ko! Bosambo shall be sorry." Later they walked in the forest speaking, for they had no fear of the spirits which the last slanting rays of the dying sun unlocked from the trees.
In the Ochori city they heard the storm grumbling across the river and were awakened by the incessant lightning so incessant that the weaver birds who lived in palms that fringed the Ochori streets came chattering to life.
"Kill!" he roared, and went out in the white light of dawn to greet ten Ochori canoes, riding in fanshape formation, having as their centre a white and speckless Zaire alive with Houssas and overburdened with the slim muzzles of Hotchkiss guns. "Oh, Ko!" said N'gori dismally, "this is a bad palaver!"
The nose was straight and narrow, the lips full, yet not of the negroid type. She was in fact a pure Ochori woman, and the Ochori are related dimly to the Arabi tribes. "Lord, Bosambo the King has sent me to speak about women," she said simply. "Doocidly awkward," said Bones to himself, and blushed.
"I sent you to Ochori to prevent a massacre, you catch a chief in the act of ambushing an enemy and instead of chucking him straight into the Village of Iron you fine him ten dollars." "Yes, sir," said Bones. There was a painful pause. "Well, you're an ass!" said Hamilton, who could think of nothing better to say. "Yes, sir," said Bones; "I think you're repeating yourself, sir.
I seem to have heard a similar observation before." "You've made Bosambo and the whole of the Ochori as sick as monkeys, and you've made me look a fool." "Hardly my responsibility, sir," said Bones, gently. "I hardly know what to do with you," said Hamilton, drawing his pipe from his pocket and slowly charging it. "Naturally, Bones, I can never let you loose again on the country."
A sobered Akasava city woke up and rubbed its eyes to find strange Ochori sentinels in the street and Bosambo in a sky-blue table-cloth, edged with golden fringe, stalking majestically through the high places of the city. "This I do," said Bosambo to a shocked N'gori, "because my lord Sandi placed me here to hold the king's peace."
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