CHAPTER XIV

BY VIRTUE OF THE TALISMAN

IT was Tiny Desmond who answered the question.

"Van der Wyck gave it to Colin for a sort of keepsake, sir."

"A rather valuable one," commented the colonel.

"Well, you see," pursued Tiny, "Colin saved his life. He----"

"Shut up, you ass!" whispered Colin, turning a dusky red. "Nothing of the sort, sir. I threw him a lifebelt. He had fallen overboard."

"And jumped in after it to make sure that Van der Wyck got it," continued the unabashed Tiny. "The ship was doing about seventeen knots at the time and it was night. They were in the water for about an hour before a boat picked them up."

"I'd like to make Van der Wyck's acquaintance," observed Herbert Narfield, handing back the swastika. "It would be interesting to know how he came by it. There's an inscription on it in Chaldean and, I fancy, Hebrew, and these two rough engravings represent either a winged bull or a paschal Iamb. At least, that's what I take them to be without going deeply into the matter. This trinket might possibly be three thousand years old. We'll go further into the matter later on. Meanwhile we are approaching Sibenga's Kraal."

The approach of the four white men had already been observed, and a swarm of natives--men, women, and children--poured from the huts with loud cries that were intended as a song of welcome for the illustrious guests.

At their head stalked Sibenga himself. The chief was dressed in a huntsman's discoloured scarlet coat that in better days might have graced the Quorn or the Pytchley meet, a pair of canvas trousers that at one time were white, and a pair of khaki puttees. Round his neck he wore a bicycle chain burnished until it shone like silver. From the charm was suspended a copper disc on which were roughly cut the words "Sibenga: he wants watching." His head was shaven, with the exception of a ring of hair worked up with gum until it resembled a leather headband.

His face was full, his eyes small and deep set. A scanty black beard failed to conceal the full protruding lips and flabby cheeks of the chief. His feet from the lowermost folds of the puttees were bare. In his right hand he carried a knobkerrie, while on his left arm he bore a small cowhide shield.

Yet in spite of his bizarre appearance Sibenga appeared anxious to please his white guests. True he was somewhat puzzled that the four men had arrived on foot, and that they carried loads instead of being accompanied by native porters.

Colonel Narfield wasted no time in preliminaries. He spoke Swahili fairly fluently, and although he had not been long in the country he had picked up a smattering of the Kaffir tongue that is more or less understood from Cape Town to Ujiji.

"I want to borrow four good horses," he said, after explaining who and what he was and that his kraal was at Kilembonga.

Sibenga gave an order to one of his subjects. The man, after grovelling in the dust at his lord's feet, backed away. In a few minutes he returned accompanied by three other men and four sorry-looking horses, for unlike the Zulus and Matabeli the Sibengas to a certain extent reared horses.

"What awful-looking screws," remarked Tiny.

"Yes," agreed Colonel Narfield. "Awful-looking, but they're 'salted'--that is, proof against the deadly tsetse fly. Now comes the tough business--bartering."

It was a long and tedious programme. Sibenga led off by expressing himself willing to part with the four animals in exchange for the two rifles, although he knew perfectly well that no native unless serving as a soldier under British officers is allowed to possess a breech-loader.

Next he demanded whisky, a commodity which Colonel Narfield did not have and which was also _taboo_ as far as the natives were concerned, a heavy penalty being imposed upon anyone caught supplying the blacks with intoxicating drinks of any description.

Thwarted on these two points Sibenga became sulky, and hinted that he meant to end the palaver.

"I will give you four good blankets for the loan of the horses," said Colonel Narfield firmly. "You can send men with us to bring the animals back, and I will give them two good axes and a looking-glass as a present to you."

"No; ten blankets, four axes, a looking-glass, and a box that talks" (a gramophone or a musical box), declared Sibenga.

"Did you dare to bargain thus with the white men with yellow hair and blue eyes?" asked Colonel Norfield.

Sibenga ignored the question.

"They have gone away," he observed, and in his heart he was thankful that they had, for the Germans were not particular in their methods of dealing with the natives.

"And better men have taken their places," rejoined Narfield. "Listen, Sibenga: were your watchers-by-night asleep between sunset and sunrise? Did they see a blaze of fire upon yonder mountain?"

The chief nodded.

"I caused that fire," proceeded Colonel Narfield. "Supposing that fire came down and ate up your kraal: where would your horses be then?"

For a moment Sibenga looked awe-stricken. He had reason to fear the white man's magic.

"What do you want my horses for?" he asked.

"To get back to my kraal," replied Colonel Narfield.

"It has been reported to me," said Sibenga slowly and deliberately, "that white men can fly higher and quicker than the mountain eagles. Let me see you do it, and then I will believe. You will not want horses, O white chief that went in a cart that smokes and came back without it. Spread your wings and fly."

"The old rascal hasn't kept his eyes shut," remarked Colonel Narfield to his companions. "He saw the car going to Tabora the day before yesterday, and apparently his watchers saw the old bus burning. At any rate, since we are on foot he thinks us very small beer. We can't point a rifle at the old bounder's head, because instructions have been given that the natives are to be treated with consideration--and Sibenga evidently knows that and regards it as a form of weakness. The District Magistrate, backed up by a full company of Haussas, would put the wind up the fellow, I guess."

The situation seemed a deadlock. Since Sibenga refused to lend the animals and Colonel Narfield could not use force--even if he attempted to do so there were fifty or sixty powerful natives armed with spears and kerries to be reckoned with--it looked as if the four weary men would have to undergo the humiliation of walking away without having achieved their object of obtaining transport. Suddenly Colin thought of Van der Wyck's gift. Now occurred an opportunity of proving the truth of the Afrikander's words that the swastika was a talisman which would work wonders with the natives--on the presumption that the Makoh'lengas and Sibenga's people were of kindred race and influenced to a great extent by the same manners and customs.

"Any use, do you think, sir?" he asked when he had briefly stated his inspiration.

"Might be, anyway," replied Colonel Narfield. "Make a show of it. There's nothing like display to impress the natives."

Colin, Desmond, and McFrazer rose to the occasion. While Sinclair slowly and deliberately drew out the talisman and proffered it to Narfield on bended knee, Tiny and the old soldier stood erect with their right hands raised in salute.

Then with an equally dramatic reverence Colonel Narfield held Colin's swastika in front of the dumfounded Sibenga.

"Behold, Sibenga!" he thundered. "The Sign demands submission. Refuse and the dread penalty awaits you."

For a brief instant there was a tense silence. Then, almost simultaneously, Sibenga, his head men, his warriors, and the rest of the company threw themselves on their knees and bowed their heads in the dust.

"We see the Sign!" almost shrieked the chief. "Speak Thy will, O Great, Great One, and we obey."