"It is the divine liquor that makes the white lords shoot straight with their wonderful guns which kill at a thousand paces.

See, I will swallow some of it," and he did, though it must have burnt his tongue.
Thus encouraged, old Babemba sniffed at the coffee and found it fragrant.

Then he called a man, who from his peculiar dress I took to be a doctor, made him drink some, and watched the results, which were that the doctor tried to finish the pannikin.

Snatching it away indignantly Babemba drank himself, and as I had half-filled the cup with sugar, found the mixture good.
"It is indeed a holy drink," he said, smacking his lips.

"Have you any more of it ?" "The white lords have more," said Jerry.