ears to keep back the spirit.

"Silly babies," she could not help saying to herself.

"He is dead," cried the chief, and giving the body to Ma he shouted in a
terrible voice:

"He has been killed by sorcerers, and they must die! Where is the
witch-doctor?"

The witch-doctor came, an evil-looking man with cunning eyes, and after
humming and hawing he blamed the people in a village near the spot where
the accident happened.

"Off! seize them!" called the chief to his freemen.

But a swift foot had secretly carried a warning to the village, and
Chief Akpo and his followers had fled. Only a dozen men, and some women
and babies who could not run, were captured, and they were loaded with
chains and brought to Ekenge and imprisoned in a yard.

Ma felt that this was a big affair, and perhaps the turning-point in her
life amongst the Okoyong.

"If these people are killed," she said, "all my work will be undone. I
must prevent it at any cost."

And first she went away by herself and knelt down and prayed, and then
came back calm and strong.

She knew what the natives liked, and hoping to please and soften Edem,
she said to him, "I am going to honour your son." From her boxes she
brought out fine silk cloth of many colours, shirts and vests and other
clothes, and put them on the dead body. The head was shaved and painted
yellow, and upon it was wound a turban, and above that a black and
scarlet hat with plumes of feathers, and an umbrella. To one hand was
tied a stick, and to the other a whip. Last of all a mirror was placed
in front of the dead eyes, because the people believed the spirit would
see what had been done and be glad. There he sat, the lifeless boy,
with all his finery, a sad queer sight. When the people came in they
yelled with delight, and danced and called for rum to make merry. Barrel
after barrel was brought and emptied, and they began to grow wild,
leaping about with swords and guns, and singing their weird tribal
songs.

"Humph!" said Ma, "my cure seems to be as bad as the disease. Still,
they have forgotten the prisoners."

These were chained to posts, and expected every minute to have their
heads chopped off. They were all very miserable. The babies were crying,
and there was a girl of fifteen who clung weeping to her mother, and ran
up to any one who came, saying piteously, "Oh, I'll be a slave for life
if only you will spare my mother."

Ma turned to Mr. Ovens. "We must not leave these poo