It was a raiding palaver

It was a raiding palaver. Some of the people of Akasava had crossed the river to Ochori and stolen women and goats, and I believe there was a man or two killed, but that is unimportant. The goats and the women were alive, and cried aloud for vengeance. They cried so loud that down at headquarters they were heard and Mr. Commissioner Niceman--that was not his name, but it will serve--went up to see what all the noise was about. He found the Ochori people very angry, but more frightened.
"If," said their spokesman, "they will return our goats, they may keep the women, because the goats are very valuable."
So Mr. Commissioner Niceman had a long, long palaver that lasted days and days, with the chief of the Akasava people and his councillors, and in the end moral suasion triumphed, and the people promised on a certain day, at a certain hour, when the moon was in such a quarter and the tide at such a height, the women should be returned and the goats also.
So Mr. Niceman returned to headquarters, swelling with admiration for himself and wrote a long report about his genius and his administrative abilities, and his knowledge of the native, which was afterwards published in Blue Book (Africa) 7943-96.
It so happened that Mr. Niceman immediately afterwards went home to England on furlough, so that he did not hear the laments and woeful wailings of the Ochori folk when they did not get their women or their goats.
Sanders, working round the Isisi River, with ten Houssas and an attack of malaria, got a helio message:

"Go Akasava and settle that infernal woman
palaver.--Administration."

So Sanders girded up his loins, took 25 grains of quinine, and leaving his good work--he was searching for M'Beli, the witch-doctor, who had poisoned a friend--trekked across country for the Akasava.
In the course of time he came to the city and was met by the chief.
"What about these women?" he asked.
"We will have a palaver," said the chief. "I will summon my headmen and my councillors."
"Summon nothing," said Sanders shortly. "Send back the women and the goats you stole from the Ochori."
"Master," said the chief, "at full moon, which is our custom, when the tide is so, and all signs of gods and devils are propitious, I will do as you bid."
"Chief," said Sanders, tapping the ebony chest of the other with the thin end of his walking-stick, "moon and river, gods or devils, those women and the goats go back to the Ochori folk by sunset, or I tie you to a tree and flog you till you bleed."
"Master," said the chief, "the women shall be returned."
"And the goats," said Sanders.
"As to the goats," said the chief airily, "they are dead, having been killed for a feast."
"You will bring them back to life," said Sanders.
"Master, do you think I am a magician?" asked the chief of the Akasava.
"I think you are a liar," said Sanders impartially, and there the palaver finished.
That night goats and women returned to the Ochori, and Sanders prepared to depart.
He took aside the chief, not desiring to put shame upon him or to weaken his authority.