"No, no, Major. I make her swear not split on ghosts of all her husbands
and by Big Bonsa hisself. She sit tight as wax, because she think they
haunt her if she don't and I too by and by when I dead. P'raps she get
to Ogula country and p'raps not. If she don't, can't help it and no
harm done. Break my heart, but only one old woman less. Anyhow she hold
tongue, that main point, and I really very glad find my ma, who never
hoped to see again. Heaven very kind to Jeekie, give him back to family
bosom," he added, unctuously.
That day there were no excitements, and to Alan's intense relief he saw
nothing of the Asika. After its orgy of witchcraft and bloodshed on the
previous night, weariness and silence seemed to have fallen upon the
town. At any rate no sound came from it that could be heard above the
low, constant thunder of the great waterfall rushing down its precipice,
and in the cedar-shadowed garden where Alan walked till he was weary,
attended by Jeekie and the Ogula savages, not a soul was to be seen.
On the following morning, when he was sitting moodily in his room, two
priests came to conduct him to the Asika. Having no choice, followed by
Jeekie, he accompanied them to her house, masked as usual, for without
this hateful disguise he was not allowed to stir.
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