“All right.  Bring ivory.  Say nothing!  I know my business.”  The two white men reluctantly went back to the house, but did not sleep.  They heard footsteps, whispers, some groans.  It seemed as if a lot of men came in, dumped heavy things on the ground, squabbled a long time, then went away.  They lay on their hard beds and thought:  “This Makola is invaluable.”  In the morning Carlier came out, very sleepy, and pulled at the cord of the big bell.  The station hands mustered every morning to the sound of the bell.  That morning nobody came.  Kayerts turned out also, yawning.  Across the yard they saw Makola come out of his hut, a tin basin of soapy water in his hand.  Makola, a civilized nigger, was very neat in his person.  He threw the soapsuds skilfully over a wretched little yellow cur he had, then turning his face to the agent’s house, he shouted from the distance, “All the men gone last night!”

They heard him plainly, but in their surprise they both yelled out together:  “What!” Then they stared at one another.  “We are in a proper fix now,” growled Carlier.  “It’s incredible!” muttered Kayerts.  “I will go to the huts and see,” said Carlier, striding off.  Makola coming up found Kayerts standing alone.

“I can hardly believe it,” said Kayerts, tearfully.  “We took care of them as if they had been our children.”

“They went with the coast people,” said Makola after a moment of hesitation.

“What do I care with whom they went—­the ungrateful brutes!” exclaimed the other.  Then with sudden suspicion, and looking hard at Makola, he added:  “What do you know about it?”

Makola moved his shoulders, looking down on the ground.  “What do I know?  I think only.  Will you come and look at the ivory I’ve got there?  It is a fine lot.  You never saw such.”

He moved towards the store.  Kayerts followed him mechanically, thinking about the incredible desertion of the men.  On the ground before the door of the fetish lay six splendid tusks.

“What did you give for it?” asked Kayerts, after surveying the lot with satisfaction.

“No regular trade,” said Makola.  “They brought the ivory and gave it to me.  I told them to take what they most wanted in the station.  It is a beautiful lot.  No station can show such tusks.  Those traders wanted carriers badly, and our men were no good here.  No trade, no entry in books:  all correct.”

Kayerts nearly burst with indignation.  “Why!” he shouted, “I believe you have sold our men for these tusks!” Makola stood impassive and silent.  “I—­I—­will—­I,” stuttered Kayerts.  “You fiend!” he yelled out.

“I did the best for you and the Company,” said Makola, imperturbably.  “Why you shout so much?  Look at this tusk.”

“I dismiss you!  I will report you—­I won’t look at the tusk.  I forbid you to touch them.  I order you to throw them into the river.  You—­you!”

“You very red, Mr. Kayerts.  If you are so irritable in the sun, you will get fever and die—­like the first chief!” pronounced Makola impressively.