Iboko.
Could I but have spokeu their dialect! I have often
thought since what an opportunity for a moral lesson
was lost by this. It was perhaps fortunate that I did
not.Y
umbila continued in better form than I could possibly
have done. His desire to please soothed and
moderated whatever passions might have lain near the
surface of this comparative silence. He described how
I had saved Irebu from mutual destruction, how the
flag was borne through the ranks of the combatants,
and how its bearer passed on unscathed and unhurt.
He described my victorious action with regard to Mi-
yon go, how I had saved him from the island, fed and
clothed him, and restored him to his home with a
store of wealth. The war at Bolobo I heard touched
upon also; his gestures, descriptive of the cannon
thundering and shooting its huge ball across the wide
river, were remarkably effective, and when he dilated
upon the rich things which were hidden in the house
on the big steamer, on the stores of murderous
weapons, with their quick man and beast slaying
properties, and the “ bub-bub ” of their sound, my
safety, if danger had existed, which I strongly suspect
it did, was secured, and from Tandelay—the dreaded
Ibanza who had inflicted defeat on them in 1877—
emerged the form of the genial, world-loving, peacemaking,
fraternal Bula Matari! Oh, what a comedy
it all was, could it but be written fairly, and with
reasonable tru th !
A forked palm branch was brought. Kokoro, the
MATA B W T K iS DECISION. 89
heir, came forward, seized it, and kneeled before me, as o ^ r ‘23.
drawing out his short falchion, he cried,. “ Hold the ib°kov
other branch, Bula Matari!” I obeyed him, and lifting
his hand he cleaved the branch in two. “ Thus,”
he said, “ I declare my wish to be your brother.
Then a fetish-man came forward with his lancets,
long pod, pinch of salt, and fresh green banana leaf.
He held the staff of Kokoro’s sword-bladed spear while
one of my rifles was brought from the steamer,- The
shaft of the spear and the stock of the rifle were then
scraped on the leaf, a pinch of salt was dropped on
the wood, and finally a little dust from the long pod
was scraped on the curious mixture. Then our arms
were crossed—the white arm over the brown arm—and
an incision was made in each ; and over the blood was
dropped a few grains of the dusty compound, and the
white arm was rubbed over the brown arm.
Now Mata Bwyki lifted his mighty form, and with
j his long giant’s staff drove back the compressed crowd,
| clearing a wide circle, and then roaring out in his
most magnificent style, leonine in its lung-force, kingly
[ in its effect—■
“ People of Iboko ! You by the river side, and you
I of inland. Men of the Bangala, listen to the words of
Mata Bwyki. You see Tandelay before you. His other
E name is Bula Matari. He is the man with the many
I canoes, and has brought back strange smoke-boats. He
I has come to see Mata Bwyki. He has asked Mata
! Bwyki to be his friend. Mata Bwyki has taken him by
1 the hand and has become his blood-brotber. Tandelay