Read Online Adventures by Mike Resnick - Free Book Online Page B

ten tons of ivory.
    “That's a mighty impressive-looking collection, Brother Nmumba,” I said, figuring out its worth down to the nearest shilling.
    He looked pleased as punch. “The Wanderobo are mighty hunters,” he said.
    “No question about that,” I replied. “Did you kill them all with spears?”
    “Yes,” said Nmumba proudly.
    “So tell me, Brother Nmumba,” I said, “if the hunting is so good here, why are you moving your people out of the Enclave?”
    “Need new juju man.”
    “You mean a witch doctor?”
    He nodded. “Our juju man died four moons ago, and we fear for our children's health.”
    “They all looked pretty healthy to me,” I said.
    “Our last juju man made strong juju ,” said Nmumba. “But soon it will wear off, and we must find another before my people sicken and die.”
    “It's nothing catching, is it?” I asked, backing off a bit just out of good manners.
    “No. It is ... I have not words for it.”
    Well, we got to using sign language, and just the merest bit of Swahili I had picked up, and it turned out that this particular juju was a form of preventative medicine. I knew they didn't have no vaccinations out in the wilderness, so I questioned him about the nature of it.
    “Cut veins,” said Nmumba.
    “I'm not sure I follow you, Brother Nmumba,” I said.
    “Cut like so,” he said, pointing to a recently healed knife scar just between his earlobe and his jawbone. “Bad blood goes out. Devils go out.”
    “You mean the old juju man bled you?”
    He nodded. “Very strong medicine.”
    It wasn't the first time I'd heard of bleeding as a disease preventive. In fact, it had been all the rage in the courts of Europe for centuries. But it was kind of surprising to find it being practiced out here in the bush.
    And then I realized that it was more than surprising—it was Providential.
    “Brother Nmumba,” I said, “I think this may be your lucky day. My friend is a juju man, one of the greatest in all Africa.”
    “Too small,” said Nmumba doubtfully.
    “Big things come in small packages, Brother Nmumba,” I said. “Not only can Brother Herbie bleed your people, but he will take all the devils into his own body so they can never harm you again.”
    “Truly?” said Nmumba.
    “Do I look like the kind of man who would lie to you?” I said. “Brother Nmumba, you cut me to the quick!”
    Nmumba lowered his head in thought for a moment. “Would he agree to be our juju man?”
    “Nothing would please him more,” I said truthfully.
    “Good!” said Nmumba. “Then it is settled, and the Wanderobo can remain here for many moons.”
    “Well, there is one little problem,” I said.
    “Oh?”
    “It would mean that my own people would be without a juju man, and in exchange for this they would probably want some compensation. Not for myself, you understand; I'm happy just to be able to do my good friend Nmumba a favor. But they will probably have to go out and hire another juju man.”
    He didn't understand many of the words, but the message came across loud and clear. We sat down for some hard bargaining, and half an hour later I had traded Herbie Miller to the Wanderobo for twelve thousand pounds of ivory and porters to carry it down to Mombasa for me.
    Which is how I made my first fortune, and how Herbie Miller became the happiest witch doctor on the entire Dark Continent.

Chapter 4
SLAVE TRADING
    It was with a certain feeling of quiet pride and accomplishment that I led my seventy porters eastward toward civilization, carrying a modest fortune of ivory on their broad, sweat-streaked backs. We marched for about three days, and headed north toward the Sudan just to make sure that we didn't bother any game wardens or British officers who might have been in the area, which is how I lost my fortune before I had a chance to build my tabernacle.
    One night we were lying down by the campfire, totally exhausted—them from toting all that ivory, and me from converting it