made.

One woman of mark was Eme Ete--Ma Eme as she was usually called--a
sister of the master, the same who had attracted her attention on the
previous visit. She was the widow of a big chief, and had just returned
from the ceremonies in connection with her husband's death, where she
had undergone a terrible ordeal. All his wives lay under suspicion, and
each brought to the place of trial a white fowl, and from the way in
which it fluttered after its head was cut off the judgment was
pronounced. The strain was such that when the witch-doctor announced Ma
Eme free from guilt she fainted. Big-boned and big-featured, she had
been fattened to immensity. One day Mary pointed to some marks on her
arms and said, "White people have marks like these," showing the
vaccination cicatrice on her own arm. Ma Eme simply said, "These are
the marks of the teeth of my husband." In that land a man could do as
he liked with his free-born wife--bite her, beat her, kill her, and
nobody cared. When consorting with the others Ma Eme had the coarse
tone common to all, but as she spoke to Mary or the children her voice
softened and her instincts and manners were refined and gentle. A
mother to every one, she scolded, encouraged, and advised in turn, and
when the chief was drunk or peevish she was always between him and his
wives as intercessor and peacemaker. She watched over Mary, brought her
food, looked after her comfort, and helped her in every way, and did it
with the delicacy and reserve of a well-bred lady. Unknown to all she
constituted herself Mary's ally, becoming a sort of secret intelligence
department, and, at the risk of her life, keeping her informed of all
the underground doings of the tribe. "A noble woman," Mary called her,
"according to her lights and knowledge."

The wives appeared to have less liberty than the slaves. How carefully