ambered all over him. It was
a touching picture. Mrs. Makola was busy cooking all day, as usual.
The white men made a somewhat better meal in the evening. Afterwards,
Carlier smoking his pipe strolled over to the store; he stood for a long
time over the tusks, touched one or two with his foot, even tried to
lift the largest one by its small end. He came back to his chief, who
had not stirred from the verandah, threw himself in the chair and said--

"I can see it! They were pounced upon while they slept heavily after
drinking all that palm wine you've allowed Makola to give them. A put-up
job! See? The worst is, some of Gobila's people were there, and got
carried off too, no doubt. The least drunk woke up, and got shot for his
sobriety. This is a funny country. What will you do now?"

"We can't touch it, of course," said Kayerts.

"Of course not," assented Carlier.

"Slavery is an awful thing," stammered out Kayerts in an unsteady voice.

"Frightful--the sufferings," grunted Carlier with conviction.

They believed their words. Everybody shows a respectful deference to
certain sounds that he and his fellows can make. But about feelings
people really know nothing. We talk with indignation or enthusiasm; we
talk about oppression, cruelty, crime, devotion, self-sacrifice, virtue,
and we know nothing real beyond the words. Nobody knows what suffering
or sacrifice mean--except, perhaps the victims of the mysterious purpose
of these illusions.

Next morning they saw Makola very busy setting up in the yard the big
scales used for weighing ivory. By and by Carlier said: "What's
that filthy scoundrel up to?" and lounged out into the yard. Kayerts
followed. They stood watching. Makola took no notice. When the balance
was swung true, he tried to lift a tusk into the scale. It was too
heavy. He looked up helplessly without a word, and for a minute they
stood round that balance as mute and still as three statues. Suddenly
Carlier said: "Catch hold of the other end, Makola--you beast!" and
together they swung the tusk up. Kayerts trembled in every limb. He
muttered, "I say! O! I say!" and putting his hand in his pocket found
there a dirty bit of paper and the stump of a pencil. He turned his back
on the others, as if about to do something tricky, and noted stealthily
the weights which Carlier shouted out to him with unnecessary loudness.
When all was over Makola whispered to himself: "The sun's very strong
here for the tusks." C