"Well, Jeekie," said Alan, bursting into such a roar of laughter that he
nearly shook off his mask, "you had better be careful, for you just told
me that the Asika is not like a see-saw white woman and never changes
her mind. Say to this man that he must tell the Asika there is a
mistake, and that however much I should like to oblige her, I can't bury
you because it has been prophesied to me that on the day you are buried,
I shall be buried also, and that therefore you must be kept alive."

"Capital notion that, Major," said Jeekie, much relieved. "She not want
bury you just at present; next year perhaps, but not now. I tell him."
And he did with much vigour.

This slight misconception having been disposed of, they explained to the
carpenters what was wanted. First, all the gold was emptied out of the
sacks in which it remained as the priests had brought it, and divided
into heaps, each of which weighed about forty pounds, a weight that
with its box Alan considered would be a good load for a porter. Of these
heaps there proved to be fifty-three, their total value, Alan reckoned,
amounting to about £100,000 sterling. Then the carpenters were set to
work to make a model box, which they did quickly enough and with great
ingenuity, cutting the wood with their native saws, dovetailing it as
a civilized craftsman would do, and finally securing it everywhere with
ebony pegs, driven into holes which they bored with a hot iron. The
result was a box that would stand any amount of rough usage and when
finally pegged down, one that could only be opened with a hammer and a
cold chisel.

This box-making went on for two whole days. As each of them was filled
and pegged down, the gold within being packed in sawdust to keep it from