ildren may not be as the dogs of the village who are driven, he wills
that you prepare the pit for the trapping of the defiled one."
Bakahenzie's eyes stolidly regarded the tent wall. "O son of Maliko, hast
thou sent forth the sound of the drum throughout the land that the
children may know of the Coming?"

"When will the voice of Tarum speak through the pod of the soul?" demanded
Bakahenzie insistently.

Birnier sat motionless in the native manner. Irritated by this childish
tenacity to apparently a fixed idea, he yielded to an impulse which was
almost a weakness.

"O son of Maliko," said he, "thou art a mighty magician!" Bakahenzie
grunted modest assent. "Even as I am." Another grunt. "Give unto me thine
ears and thine eyes that I may reveal unto thee that which is known to the
mightiest of magicians." Commanding the delighted Mungongo to bring out
the phonograph, he continued: "Thou hast heard of the mighty doings of the
unclean devourer of men, Eyes-in-the-hands. I have magic the like of which
man hath never seen. Is it not so?"

"Ough!"

"Yet will the son of the Lord-of-many-Lands make thee to see that which
is, is not!"

"That which is, is not," repeated Bakahenzie, whose professional mind was
pleased with the phrase.

In the desire to explain rationally the mystery of a phonograph and
despairing of any attempt to describe the laws of vibration, Birnier
sought for a likely simile. Encouraged by the almost imperceptible fact
that he had awakened Bakahenzie's visible interest, he plunged on: "Within
this piece of tree is there nought but many pieces of iron such as thy
spears are made of. Thou knowest that there are places by the river and in
the rocks where a man may speak and that his words will be returned to
him. Is it not so?"

"They are white words, O son of the Lord-of-many-Lands!" returned
Bakahenzie. "For the spirits of the river and the rocks mock the voices of
those who have not eaten of the Sacred Banana" (the uninitiated).

"But they mock thy voice as well," protested Birnier.

"Are there not goats in ghostland who bleat at the wizard and the
peasant?"

"By the Lord!" murmured Birnier, although the mask of his face did not
change. "Ghostland is full of goats if one were to credit some of the most
modern witch-doctors! Still demonstration {~HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS~}

"Thou seest, fellow magician," he continued, "the pod of the soul of
mighty Tarum, his ear like unto an elephant, his colour lik