Then and there I changed my plans, as indeed was convenient to me because of the suddenly developed hostility of a chief through whose territory I had intended to pass, and in order to seek out this Kaneke, took a road running in another direction to that which I had designed to travel. Little did I guess at the time that Kaneke was seeking ME out and that the natives who told me the legend of the lake were, in fact, his emissaries sent to tempt me to visit him, or that it was he who had incited the chief against me in order to block my path.
Well, in due course I reached Kaneke–town, as it was called, without accident, for although between me and it dwelt a very dangerous tribe whom at first I had purposed to avoid, all at once their chief and headman became friendly and helped me in every way upon my journey. Kaneke, a remarkable person whom I will describe later, received me well, giving me a place to camp outside his village and all the food that we required. Also he proved extraordinarily communicative, telling me directly that he belonged to a tribe called Dabanda, which had its home in the wild parts whereof I have spoken. He added that he was the "high–born" son of a great doctor or medicine–man, a calling which all his family had followed for generations. In some curious way, of which I did not at first learn the details, while undergoing his novitiate as a doctor or magician, this man had been seized by a rival tribe, the Abanda, and ultimately sold as a slave to an Arab trader, one Hassan, who brought him down to the neighbourhood of the great lake.
Here also, according to his own story, it seemed that one night this Kaneke succeeded in murdering Hassan.
"I crept on him in the night. I got him by the throat. I choked the life out of him," he said, twitching his big hands, "and as he died I whispered in his ear of all the cruel things he had done to me. He made signs to me, praying for mercy, but I went on till I had killed him, whispering to him all the while. When he was dead I took his body and threw it out into the bush, having first stripped him. There a lion found it and bore it away, for in the morning it was gone. Then, Macumazahn" (that is the native name by which I, Allan Quatermain, am known in Africa, and which had come with me to these parts), "I played a great game, such as you might have done, O Watcher–by–Night. I returned to the tent of Hassan and sat there thinking.
"I heard the lion, or lions come, for I think there was more than one of them, as I was sure that they would come who had called them by a charm, and guessed that they had eaten or carried away Hassan the evil. When all was quiet I dressed myself in the robes of Hassan. I found his gun, which on the journey he had taught me to use, that I might shoot the slaves who could travel no farther for him; his pistol also, and saw that they were loaded. Then I sat myself upon his stool and waited for the light.
"At the dawn one of his women crept into the tent to visit him. I seized her. She stared at me, saying:
"'You are not my master. You are not Hassan.'
"I answered, 'I am your master. I am Hassan, whose face the spirits have changed in the night.'
"She opened her mouth to cry out. I said:
"'Woman, if you try to scream, I will kill you. If you are quiet I will take you. Look on me. I am young. Hassan was old. I am a finer man, you will be happier with me. Choose now. Will you die, or live?'
"'I will live,' she said, she who was no fool.
"'Then I am Hassan, am I not?' I asked.
"'Yes,' she said, 'you are Hassan and my lord. I am sure of it now.'
"For I tell you, that woman had wit, Macumazahn, and I was sorry when, two years afterwards, she died.
"'Good,' I said. 'Now, when the servants of Hassan come you will swear that I am he and no other, remembering that if you do not swear you die.'
"'I will swear,' she answered.
"Presently the headman of Hassan came, a big fat fellow who was half an Arab, to bring him his morning drink. I took it and drank. The light of the rising sun struck into the tent. He saw and started back.
"'You are not Hassan,' he said. 'You are the slave Kaneke, whom we bought.'
"'I am Hassan,' I answered. 'Ask my wife here, whom you know, if I am not Hassan. Also, if I am not, where is Hassan?'
"'Yes, he is Hassan, my husband,' broke in the woman.
"'This is witchcraft!' he cried, and ran away.
"'Now he is gone to fetch the others,' I said to the woman. 'Fasten back the sides of the tent that I may see, and give me the guns.'
"She obeyed, though then she sat exposed, and I took the double– barrelled gun and held it ready.
"Presently, they all came, five or six Arabs, or half Arabs, and a score or so of black soldiers. Even the slaves came, dragging their yokes, fifty or more of them of whom perhaps thirty were men, all known to me, for had we not shared the yoke? There they stood huddled together behind the Arabs, staring.
"'Take a knife,' I whispered to the woman; 'slip out, get among the slaves and cut the thongs of the yokes.'
"She nodded—have I not told you that girl had wits, Macumazahn?— and slipped away.
"Cried the fat one, the captain:
"'This fellow, whom we all know for Kaneke, the slave whom we bought, says that he is Hassan our lord. Yes, there he sits in Hassan's robes and says that he is Hassan. Dog, where is Hassan?'
"'Inside this garment,' I answered. 'Listen. I made a bargain with Hassan, I who am a wizard. I forgave him his sins against me, and in return he gave me his soul while his body flew away to Paradise.'
"'The liar!' shouted the captain. 'Kill him!' and he brandished a spear.
"'Admit that I am Hassan or I will send you to where you will learn that I am no liar,' I said quietly.
"In answer he lifted the spear to stab me. Then I shot him dead.
"'Now am I Hassan?' I asked, while the rest stared at him.
"One or two who were frightened said 'Yes'. Others stood silent, and a big fellow began to put a cap upon his gun. I shot him with the other barrel, then, rising, roared in a great voice:
"'On to them, slaves, if you would be free!' for by now I saw that the woman had cut many of the thongs.
"Those men were brave, they came of good stock. They heard, and leapt on to the Arabs with a shout, knocking them down with the yokes and throttling them with their hands. Soon it was over. Most of them were killed, but two or three crawled before me crying that I was certainly Hassan.
"'Very well,' I said. 'Take away these'—here I pointed to the dead men—'and throw them into yonder ravine, and bid the women prepare food while I make prayer according to my custom.'
"Then I took Hassan's beautiful prayer–rug, spread it and made obeisance in the proper fashion, muttering with my lips as I had often watched him do; after which everything went smoothly. That is all the story, Macumazahn."
When he had finished this tale, which, true or false, of its sort was remarkable even in equatorial Africa, where such things happen, or happened, by the score without anybody hearing of them, I sat awhile considering Kaneke.
To tell the truth he was worth study. A giant of a man in size, he was not a negro by any means, for his features had a somewhat Semitic cast and he was yellow–hued rather than black. Moreover, he had hair, not wool, wavy hair that he wore rather long. His eyes were so prominent, round, and lustrous that they gave an owl– like cast to his countenance, his features well cut, although the lips were somewhat coarse and the nose was hooked like a hawk's beak, while his hands and feet were thin and shapely, and in curious contrast to his great athletic frame and swelling muscles. His age might have been anything between thirty–five and forty, and he carried his years well, moving with the swing and vigour of youth.