Avon Fantasy Reader No. 11 — page 47: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

‘These uncivilized Baloongas, are they really so bad, Mokato?” “Every thought of their head is wicked, brother,” said Mokato. “Oh, come now, you are a Baloonga yourself, even if you have thrown away your earplates and wear shirts and trousers. I don’t believe you were such a bad man, Mokato.”’ The head-man frowned, a little jealous of his former wickedness, as most new converts are. ~ Brother, I was utterly given over to wickedness and lies.” The little man wagged his head and laughed. “What did you do that was so bad?” The head-man seemed a little aghast at what he really had done. ‘‘I—belonged to the M’Bembi, brother,’’ he said in an undertone. “What's that?” “A secret society, brother.” “With signals and passwords and all that?’ inquired the doctor with interest. “The M’Bembi have signals and passwords,” admitted Mokato, glancing around amid the bush. “What kind of a signal do they have?*’ inquired the little man curiously. “I promised Mombo never to reveal it, brother.” Mokato showed the whites of his eyes in his black face and fingered the empty lobes of his ears. “Who is Mombo?” “He is the go—the idol in the lodge of the M’Bembi, brother.” “There you are,” said the doctor. ““You are not supposed to keep a promise to an idol, Mokato. The holy angels would scratch their heads and not know what to think to see Mokato, their new convert, keeping a promise to an idol,”’ “I haven't kept my promise to Mombo, brother,” said the black man. “I have given the sign three times already while we were talking about «t.”’ “The devil you have! Well, I didn’t catch it.” “I can’t furnish you with eyes, brother,” said the man with the looped ears. Mogeglesby broke out laughing. The little Englishman watched the Negro with sharp, rat-like eyes. “Let hina. make it again, by Jove; next time—" his face suddenly lighted up—"T caught it, I know the signal!” “Can you make it?’ asked Mokato, a little crestfallen himself now. “Not with my shoes on,” crowed the doctor. “Isn't that the deuce of a way to throw a sign—with your toes?” The big Englishman interrupted this quizzing with his heavy voice— “I imagine you had a hard time, Mokato, changing from the customs of the M’Bembi to the way Parson Spence wants you to live?” ““Wickedness is a strange thing, brother,’ said Mokato. “A man misses tt. When I feel moved to fall back into my old ways, the angel fights in here and keeps me from it.” The black man tapped his chest. “You do want to go back sometimes,” observed the little doctor. “When I am asleep,” said Mokato, “the devils come and put things in 45 Comicbooks.com