Perhaps the priest was asleep, perhaps I could get the canoe away without shooting.

I did not like the job; moreover, his head was held forward and invisible, and how was I to make certain of killing him with a shot in the back?
Lastly, if possible, I wished to avoid firing because of the report.
At that instant the Motombo wheeled round.

Some instinct must have warned him of my presence, for the silence was gravelike save for the soft splash of the rain without.

As he turned the lightning blazed and he saw me.
"It is the white man," he muttered to himself in his hissing whisper, while I waited through the following darkness with the rifle at my shoulder, "the white man who shot me long, long ago, and again he has a gun! Oh! Fate stabs, doubtless the god is dead and I too must die!" Then as if some doubt struck him he lifted the horn to summon help.
Again the lightning flashed and was accompanied by a fearful crack of thunder.

With a prayer for skill, I covered his head and fired by the glare of it just as the trumpet touched his lips.