Chap. IV. TRAFFIC IN SKULLS. G7 



skull was always treated as a secret matter. The 

 negro(>s would bring them only at night and by 

 stealth, carefully wrapped up in a parcel, and dis- 

 guising the shape of the contents, or covering the 

 top with a few sweet potatoes, to mislead any one 

 whom they might meet. 



Sometimes two negroes engaged in this sort of 

 contraband traffic would meet, by accident, in my 

 house, each with a suspicious-looking bundle under 

 his arm. They would look at each other in a shy, 

 balf-ashamed manner, and then burst out laughing, 

 but finally swearing to keep one another's secret. 

 Skull-selling, however, never became an open, public 

 business. One day old Rabolo came to me, his 

 countenance beaming with satisfaction, and said, in 

 a half whisper : — 



" Chaillie, I shall have something for you to-night 

 which will make your heart glad." 



" What is that ? " I inquired. 



" Rogala, my little Ishogo slave, is sick, and will 

 die to-night : I know it. You have often asked for 

 an Ishogo head, and now you shall have one." 



I was horrified at the old chief's coolness in thus 

 dispensing skulls before their owners were dead, and 

 insisted upon his showing me the sick boy. He led 

 me to the dark shed where the poor slave lay ill. 

 The chikl was dreadfully emaciated with dysentery, 

 the disease of which a great many slaves die when 

 brought from, the interior. He thought himself 

 he was going to die ; but I undertook to prescribe 

 for him. I ordered one of Kabolo's wives to give 

 him warm food. I sent them chickens to make broth 



