"They invite you to eat with them." Babemba stuck his finger into the tin, and covering it with the sediment of sugar, sucked and reflected.
"It's all right," I whispered to Stephen.

"I don't think he'll kill us after drinking our coffee, and what's more, I believe he is coming to breakfast." "This may be a snare," said Babemba, who now began to lick the sugar out of the pannikin.
"No," answered Jerry with creditable resource; "though they could easily kill you all, the white lords do not hurt those who have partaken of their holy drink, that is unless anyone tries to harm them." "Cannot you bring some more of the holy drink here ?" he asked, giving a final polish to the pannikin with his tongue.
"No," said Jerry, "if you want it you must go there.

Fear nothing.

Would I, one of your own people, betray you ?" "True!" exclaimed Babemba.

"By your talk and your face you are a Mazitu.
How came you--well, we will speak of that afterwards.