unpersuaded. "The ways of white men are strange. Muata hunts to keep
the hut supplied with meat, but the white man carries his meat with
him. When he kills he leaves the meat and takes only the horns or
the skin of the thing he has slain. Muata is not a child. When he
sees a single vulture in the sky, he knows there are others coming
behind. A white man comes out of the beyond into the black man's
country. He is soft-spoken; he is a hunter only. Mawoh! and behind
him comes an army."

"What do you know about white men, Muata?"

"The wise men at the hiding-place talked. They knew one such. He
lived among them. His ways were strange. He talked with the trees;
he sought among the rocks; he communed with spirits. He was
harmless, but the wise men said others would follow on his trail
doing mischief. So I ask, my father, why do you wish to enter the
forest?"

"Because," said Compton, leaning forward, "my father was lost in the
forest, and I would find him. Tell me, where is the white man your
old men talked of?"

"The forest takes, the forest keeps," said Muata, lifting a hand
solemnly.

"Do you mean," asked the boy, quietly, "that the white man does not
live?"

"The people dealt well by their white man. They gave him food; they
carried water for him, and built his fire. Even I, as a child,