Kali shook his head.
“If this had been so the elephant would not have killed Msimu, but Msimu would have killed the elephant. Msimu is dead.”
A weird crackling sound suddenly interrupted him. From the lower cavity in the tree came a strange-looking cloud of red dust; after which the crackling became louder.
Kali at once prostrated himself on his face and began to scream in terror:
“Aka! Msimu! Aka! Aka! Aka!”
At first Stasch drew back, too, but he soon regained his composure, and when Nell and Mea came running up he explained the probable cause to them.
“It is most likely,” he said, “that layers of mold, loosened by the heat, have fallen down and smothered the fire. But Kali believes it was Msimu. Mea shall pour water into the cavity, for if the fire is not smothered and the mold should ignite, it might burst out and the whole tree be consumed.”
Stasch saw that Kali still lay prostrate in terror, repeating “Aka! Aka!” so he picked up his rifle, shot into the cavity, then touched the boy with the butt of the gun and said:
“Your Msimu is shot. Don’t be frightened.”
Kali raised himself a little, but remained on his knees.