ad had an intrigue with the wife of the chief, and had been
condemned by the latter to pay a few pigs. Being too poor to do this,
he decided to pay his debt in an old-fashioned way by killing a man,
and Bourbaki was unlucky enough to arrive just at the right time,
and being a man from a distant district, there was no revenge to be
feared. Belni, therefore, chose him as his victim. The two brothers
chatted all night with him and Macao, and asked to see Bourbaki's
rifle, which he carelessly handed to them. When, towards morning,
Macao left them for a few moments, they profited by the opportunity
to shoot Bourbaki from behind, and to run away. Macao, rushing back,
found his friend dead, and fled to the shore. By this deed the wrong
to the chief was supposed to be made good--a very peculiar practice in
native justice. It may be a remnant of old head-hunting traditions,
inasmuch as Belni's brother would have given the dead man's head to
the chief in payment, this being even more valuable than pigs.

The first excitement over, our boys were seized by fear, even Macao
and the other one who had accompanied us. Although they were in
perfect safety on board the cutter they feared all sorts of revenge
from Belni's relatives,--for instance, that they might cause a
storm and wreck the cutter. We laughed at them, but they would not
be cheered up, and, after all, Macao's horrible dread that his old
father was surely being eaten up by this time in the village was not
quite groundless. We were not in the brightest of humours ourselves,
as this event had considerably lessened our chances of recruiting
at Big Nambas; the chief made us responsible for Bourbaki's death,
and asked an indemnity which we could hardly pay, except with the
tusked pigs we demanded here.

We could not stay longer in Tesbel Bay, as our boys were too much
frightened, and the natives might turn against us at any moment. We
could hardly get the boys to go ashore for water and firewood, for
fear of an ambush. In the evening we fetched Belni out of the hold. He
was still doleful and ready to cry, but seemed unconscious of any
fault; he had killed a man, but that was rather an honourable act
than a crime, and he only seemed to regret that it had turned out so
unsatisfactorily. He did not seem to have much appetite, but swallowed
his yam mechanically in great lumps. The boys shunned him visibly,
all but Macao, who squatted down close before him, and gave him food
with w