You had many slaves with you on the borders of my country, but you sent them away.

You shall die, you shall die, you who call yourselves lions, and the painted rag which you say shadows the world, shall rot with your bones.

As for that box which sings a war-song, I will smash it; it shall not bewitch me as your magic shield bewitched my great doctor, Imbozwi, burning off his hair." Then springing up with wonderful agility for one so fat, he knocked the musical box from Hans' head, so that it fell to the ground and after a little whirring grew silent.
"That is right," squeaked Imbozwi.

"Trample on their magic, O Elephant.
Kill them, O Black One; burn them as they burned my hair." Now things were, I felt, very serious, for already Bausi was looking about him as though to order his soldiers to make an end of us.

So I said in desperation: "O King, you mentioned a certain white man, Dogeetah, a doctor of doctors, who cured you of sickness with a knife, and called him your brother.