Read Online Bones of the River by Edgar Wallace - Free Book Online Page A

adventurer by instinct, and a great collector of other men’s property by choice.
    “I see you one time: I looka you longa longa times, Bonesi. You be good fellow.” Thus Bosambo in English, for he had been educated in an English mission school.
    Bones struggled hard against resenting the familiarity. Tactfully, he replied in Bomongo.
    “Sandi has sent me to speak with your young men, Bosambo, for Sandi’s heart is troubled because of this secret society.”
    “Lord,” said Bosambo calmly, “there is no secret society in this land. When the older men join together in dances and call themselves by ghostly names, I say no word, for old men are great talkers and nothing comes of that. But when my young men meet in secrecy, then I know that they will talk scandal. And what is scandalous here in the Ochori but taxation and the punishment I give to evil men? These Young Hearts spoke of me badly, and this I discovered. Now the Young Hearts are not in the Ochori,” he added significantly.
    Bones considered the matter, scratching his nose. “Bosambo, in this land all men are equal,” he said, and the big chief regarded him dispassionately.
    “Lord, all men are equal who are equal to one another,” he said. “But no man is equal to me, for I am the chief king of the Ochori. And I am not equal to you, Tibbetti, nor you to Sandi. If you are equal to Sandi, speak.”
    Bones modestly refrained, and the big man went on: “It is right that I should be over the Ochori,” he said, “for someone must stand high above the people, or he would not see them well. When there are ten thousand goats upon the plain, what does any goat see but the goat that is next to him? And how may he know what happens on the edge of the flock, where the leopards come crawling and creeping?”
    “All men – ” began Bones again, but thought better of it. Bosambo was not a man who would be readily convinced.
    He secured a certain amount of information about the Young Hearts – information which Bosambo had taken the most drastic measures to procure.
    “They are of the Isisi,” said Bosambo, “and this king of the Isisi is no man, but a cow. For he sits down and hears these boys speak, and does not beat them. You go to the Isisi, lord?”
    Bones went on his way, and his host watched by the riverside, until the white hull of the little Wiggle had disappeared round a woody headland. Then Bosambo returned to his hut and to his wife, who was also his counsellor.
    “Light of my life,” she said in the Arabic of the coast, “Tibbetti has been in many terrible places, but I think the Isisi country will be worse for him.”
    In two nights and a day Bones came to the Isisi city, and was received in state by the king.
    “Lord, I know nothing of the Young Hearts,” said Bugulu nervously. “The folly of children is not for me and my wise old men, but for their parents. As to N’shimba, what is he but a child?”
    Bones did not attempt to supply an answer to his question. He had not failed to notice, in his walk through the widely scattered city of the king, that, which ever way he looked, he saw no young men. There were those who were old squatting at the fires, and women of all ages going about their proper business. He called the attention of Bugulu to this fact, and the king grew more miserable.
    “Lord, they have gone to a palaver in the deep forest,” he said. “For these night-talk-people must hold palavers at all times.”
    Bones hesitated, and then, accompanied by the king, walked down the broad main street of the city. He stopped at the first hut, where an old woman was crushing meal, and spoke to her.
    “O woman,” he said, “I think you are the mother of sons. Now tell me where your fine son is, that I may speak to him.”
    She glanced from Bones to the king, and then: “Lord, he is gone to make a palaver in the deep forest,” she said.
    “What is your son?” asked Bones.
    “Master, he is a fisherman and is very stout.”
    Bones