We will not kill this beast and try to save your life, save at a price." "What price ?" asked the Kalubi nervously.

"There are wives and cattle--no, you do not want the wives, and the cattle cannot be taken across the lake.

There are gold dust and ivory.

I have already promised these, and there is nothing more that I can give." "The price is, O Kalubi, that you hand over to us to be taken away the white woman who is called Mother of the Holy Flower, with her daughter----" "And," interrupted Stephen, to whom I had been interpreting, "the Holy Flower itself, all of it dug up by the roots." When he heard these modest requests the poor Kalubi became like one upon the verge of madness.
"Do you understand," he gasped, "do you understand that you are asking for the gods of my country ?" "Quite," replied Brother John with calmness; "for the gods of your country--nothing more nor less." The Kalubi made as though he would fly from the hut, but I caught him by the arm and said: "See, friend, things are thus.

You ask us, at great danger to ourselves, to kill one of the gods of your country, the highest of them, in order to save your life.