WESTERN LIBERIA 103

consistency, spoke Buzie, but in so low a tone that no
one could follow him.

The devil was paying his respects to the chief and
to the strangers, so the interpreter explained in
Bande, and was ready to dance for them. There was
an uneasy pause while I wondered with the
embarrassment of a man in a strange restaurant
whether I had enough in my pocket. But a dash of a
shilling was sufficient and the devil danced. It was
not so accomplished a dance as we saw later by a
devil belonging to a woman's society in Buzie
country; the lack of religious enthusiasm in the
Bande tribe, if it allows them to lead an easier life,
less under the fear of poisoning, diminishes their
artistic talent. Vitality was about the only quality
one could allow Landow; he lashed a small whip; he
twirled like a top; he ran up and down between the
huts with long sliding steps, his skirts raising the dust
and giving his progress an appearance of immense
speed. His interpreter did his best to keep up with
him, brushing him when he was within reach. The
spirit was definitely carnival; no one above the age
of childhood was really scared of Landow; they had
all passed through his school, and one suspected that
the blacksmith of Mosambolahun, the slack grimy
town, had not maintained very carefully his un-
masked authority. He was a 'good fellow', one felt,
and like so many good fellows he went on much too
long: he would sit on the ground and mutter, then
run up and down a bit and sit down again. He was a
bore as he played on and on in the blistering after-
noon sun, hoping for another dash, which I simply
hadn't got with me. One woman ran up and flung