INTO BUZIE COUNTRY 163

had watched dancing in grotesque masks, the mere
heads of the local bush schools. A new hut was being
fenced in for him by the townsfolk as my carriers
climbed the slope to the compound: this was a force
ruling by terror and poison, which had already driven
away one District Commissioner, the other side of
the Buzie medal to that which now, as we sat in the
verandah with the town chief and the clerk, so richly
displayed itself.

The servants did the bargaining. Bracelets and
daggers were sold for a few shillings apiece; a sword
with a carved ivory hilt was bought from a fat man
with the authoritative air of an Eastern eunuch for
eight shillings. He lost his temper with Laminah,
who, he said, was spoiling the market. He had a few
words of English; he said 'jes'm' and 'no'm'; there
was something servile and baleful in his manner. He
was one of the richest men in the town. I met him in
my stroll that evening and he asked to have a picture
taken of him. "Which is your hut?" I said. "I'll take
you in front of it."

'That my hut," the fat man said, pointing past a
black bull. "Yes'm. And that. And that. And that.
Yes'm. And that," marking out half the town with
his plump finger. Next day, the terrified Laminah,
who remembered how his bargaining had angered the
stranger, learnt that he was the headman of the devil.

The sales continued until late: all the finest swords
and spears were brought last by men who slipped
quietly in behind the lowered reed screens which at
mosquito-time made the verandah into a little private
room. One owner, at the chief's command, unwill-
ingly brought a lovely sword in a worked leather