Thinking black; 22 years without a break in the long grass of Central ...

THE DESERT JOURNEY 159
and Water, and this is how he most quaintly works out
at the Euclidean Q.E.D. "A king indeed is King Fire,"
says he, " for listen, oh listen. You pack all your
treasures into your house, and {^ sweru!') an advancing
forest fire having licked up all the grass now leaps up at
your thatch, and devours your all, licking up in flame
even the last vestige of house and goods. But, look ye !
down dips the sun, the cold night wind darts into your
body, and you gladly kneel before that same King Fire
(the destroyer of your earthly all), craving his cheering
warmth. Yea, you beseech him to cook your food, so little
dare you disdain King Fire.
"So, too, with King Water. The rushing water per-
chance swallows in death your loved first-born, drowned
perhaps in a canoe or crossing a rickety bridge. Yea, he,
King Water, is the murderer of your darling, but darest
thou refuse to drink him ? Contrariwise, at sundown you
cringingly kneel with your cup and—and drink of your
son's murderer ! Hail, King Water ! and hail, King
Fire ! though ye slay me, yet must I cling to you."
Certain it is that, poetic ravings apart, this kingship of
these elements is a dry old forensic dictum among
negroes, and (arson excepted) damages from fire and
water in Africa are disallowed on the plea that it is an
" act of God."
More : next comes a choking simoom, every man
lying prone on the earth, head butting the sand. Good
it is to see the reign of Law even here, for your nude
natives are a lawless lot, and the Lord thus gives them an