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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Leopard Woman + +Author: Stewart Edward White + +Illustrator: W. H. D. Koerner + +Posting Date: August 11, 2012 [EBook #9401] +Release Date: December, 2005 +First Posted: September 29, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LEOPARD WOMAN *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Richard Prairie, Tonya Allen, +and Project Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<br> +<br> +<hr> +<br> +<p class="ctr"> +<a name="frontis.jpg"></a> +<a href="images/frontis.jpg"><img src="images/frontis_th.jpg" alt="'Go I say!' cried the Leopard Woman"></a> + +<h1>THE LEOPARD WOMAN</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>STEWART EDWARD WHITE</h2> + +<h3><i>Illustrated by W. H. D. Koerner</i></h3> + +<h3><i>1916</i></h3> +<br> +<br> +<h2>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER</h3> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a href="#i">I. The March</a> +<br><a href="#ii"> II. The Camp</a> +<br><a href="#iii"> III. The Rhinoceros</a> +<br><a href="#iv"> IV. The Stranger</a> +<br><a href="#v"> V. The Encounter</a> +<br><a href="#vi"> VI. The Leopard Woman</a> +<br><a href="#vii"> VII. The Water Hole</a> +<br><a href="#viii"> VIII. The Thirst</a> +<br><a href="#ix"> IX. On the Plateau</a> +<br><a href="#x"> X. The <i>Suliani</i></a> +<br><a href="#xi"> XI. The Ivory Stockade</a> +<br><a href="#xii"> XII. The Pilocarpin</a> +<br><a href="#xiii"> XIII. The Tropic Moon</a> +<br><a href="#xiv"> XIV. Over the Ranges</a> +<br><a href="#xv"> XV. The Sharpening of the Spear</a> +<br><a href="#xvi"> XVI. The Murder</a> +<br><a href="#xvii"> XVII. The Darkness</a> +<br><a href="#xviii"> XVIII. The Leopard Woman Changes Her Spots</a> +<br><a href="#xix"> XIX. The Trial</a> +<br><a href="#xx"> XX. Kingozi's Ultimatum</a> +<br><a href="#xxi"> XXI. The Messengers</a> +<br><a href="#xxii"> XXII. The Second Messengers</a> +<br><a href="#xxiii"> XXIII. The Council of War</a> +<br><a href="#xxiv"> XXIV. M'tela's Country</a> +<br><a href="#xxv"> XXV. M'tela</a> +<br><a href="#xxvi"> XXVI. Waiting</a> +<br><a href="#xxvii"> XXVII. The Magic Bone</a> +<br><a href="#xxviii">XXVIII. Simba's Adventure</a> +<br><a href="#xxix"> XXIX. Winkleman's Safari Arrives</a> +<br><a href="#xxx"> XXX. Winkleman Appears</a> +<br><a href="#xxxi"> XXXI. Light Again</a> +<br><a href="#xxxii"> XXXII. The Colours</a> +<br><a href="#xxxiii">XXXIII. Curtain</a> +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<p> +<a href="#frontis.jpg">"'Go, I say!' cried the Leopard Woman. 'And hold up your head. If this is +suspected of you, you will surely die'" ... <i>Frontispiece</i></a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#illusp040.jpg">"'If you <i>will</i> ride in a hammock, you ought to teach your men to shoot,' +was Kingozi's greeting"</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#illusp066.jpg">"After the flat crack of the rifle a hollow <i>plunk</i> indicated that the +bullet had told"</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#illusp122.jpg">"Their eyes were large with curiosity as to this man and woman of a new +species ... Kingozi touched his lips to the <i>tembo</i>"</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#illusp180.jpg">"'Cazi Moto, take this stick and make on the ground marks exactly like +those on the <i>barua</i>. Make them deep, so that I may feel them with my +hands'"</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#illusp282.jpg">"The search party found Winkleman, very dirty, quite hungry, profoundly +chagrined"</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#illusp300.jpg">"At the top of the hill the guide stopped and pointed. Kingozi gathered +that through the distant cleft he indicated the strangers must come"</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#illusp308.jpg">"So intent was the Leopard Woman on the examination and on Kingozi that +she seemed utterly unconscious of the men standing over opposite ... A +more startlingly exotic figure for the wilds of Central Africa could not +be imagined"</a> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2>THE LEOPARD WOMAN</h2> + +<br> +<br> +<br> + + +<h2><a name="i">CHAPTER I</a></h2> + +<h3>THE MARCH</h3> + +<p> +It was the close of the day. Over the baked veldt of Equatorial Africa a +safari marched. The men, in single file, were reduced to the unimportance +of moving black dots by the tremendous sweep of the dry country stretching +away to a horizon infinitely remote, beyond which lay single mountains, +like ships becalmed hull-down at sea. The immensities filled the world--the simple immensities of sky and land. Only by an effort, a wrench of the +mind, would a bystander on the advantage, say, of one of the little rocky, +outcropping hills have been able to narrow his vision to details. +</p> + +<p> +And yet details were interesting. The vast shallow cup to the horizon +became a plain sparsely grown with flat-topped thorn trees. It was not a +forest, yet neither was it open country. The eye penetrated the thin +screen of tree trunks to the distance of half a mile or more, but was +brought to a stop at last. Underfoot was hard-baked earth, covered by +irregular patches of shale that tinkled when stepped on. Well-defined +paths, innumerable, trodden deep and hard, cut into the iron soil. They +nearly all ran in a northwesterly direction. The few traversing paths took +a long slant. These paths, so exactly like those crossing a village green, +had in all probability never been trodden by human foot. They had been +made by the game animals, the swarming multitudinous game of Central +Africa. +</p> + +<p> +The safari was using one of the game trails. It was a compact little +safari, comprising not over thirty men all told. The single white man +walked fifty yards or so ahead of the main body. He was evidently tired, +for his shoulders drooped, and his shuffling, slow-swinging gait would +anywhere have been recognized by children of the wilderness as that which +gets the greatest result from the least effort. Dressed in the brown cork +helmet, the brown flannel shirt with spine-pad, the khaki trousers, and +the light boots of the African traveller little was to be made of either +his face or figure. The former was fully bearded, the latter powerful +across the shoulders. His belt was heavy with little leather pockets; a +pair of prismatic field-glasses, suspended from a strap around his neck, +swung across his chest; in the crook of his left arm he carried a light +rifle. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately at his heels followed a native. This man's face was in +conformation that of the typical negro; but there the resemblance ceased. +Behind the features glowed a proud, fierce spirit that transformed them. +His head was high but his eyes roved from right to left restlessly, never +still save when they paused for a flickering instant to examine some +gazelle, some distant herd of zebra or wildebeeste standing in the vista +of the flat-topped trees. His nostrils slowly expanded and contracted with +his breathing, as do those of a spirited horse. In contrast to the gait of +the white man he stepped vigorously and proudly as though the long day had +not touched his strength. He wore a battered old felt hat, a tattered +flannel shirt, a ragged pair of shorts, and the blue puttees issued by the +British to their native troops. The straps of two canteens crossed on his +breast; a full cartridge belt encircled his waist; he carried lightly and +easily one of those twelve-pound double cordite rifles that constitute the +only African life insurance. +</p> + +<p> +Fifty yards in the rear marched the carriers. They were a straight, strong +lot, dressed according to their fancy or opportunity in the cast-off +garments of the coast; comical in the ensemble, perhaps, but worthy of +respect in that all day each had carried a seventy-pound load under a +tropical sun, and that they were coming in strong. +</p> + +<p> +And finally, bringing up the rear, marched a small, lively, wizened little +fellow, dressed as nearly as possible like the white man, and carrying as +the badge of his office a bulging cotton umbrella and the <i>kiboko</i>--the +slender, limber, stinging rhinoceros-hide whip. +</p> + +<p> +It was the end of a long march. This could be guessed by the hour, by the +wearied slouch of the white man, above all by the conduct of the safari. +The men were walking one on the heels of the other. Their burdens, carried +on their heads, held them erect. They stepped out freely. But against the +wooden chop boxes, the bags of cornmeal <i>potio</i>, the bundles of canvas +that made up some of the loads, the long safari sticks went <i>tap, tap, +tap</i>, in rhythm. This tapping was a steady undertone to the volume of +noise that arose from thirty throats. Every man was singing or shouting at +the full strength of his lungs. A little file of Wakamba sung in unison +one of the weird wavering minor chants peculiar to savage peoples +everywhere; some Kavirondos simply howled in staccato barks like beasts. +Between the extremes were many variations; but every man contributed to +the uproar, and tapped his load rhythmically with his long stick. By this +the experienced traveller would have known that the men were very tired, +tired to the point of exhaustion; for the more wearied the Central African +native, or the steeper the hill he, laden, must surmount, the louder he +sings or yells. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Maji hapana m'bale, bwana</i>," observed the gun bearer to the white man. +"Water is not far, master." +</p> + +<p> +The white man merely nodded. These two had been together many years, and +explanations were not necessary between them. He, as well as Simba, had +noticed the gradual convergence of the game trails, the presence of small +grass birds that flushed under their feet, the sing-sing buck behind the +aloes, the increasing numbers of game animals that stared or fled at the +sight and sound of the safari. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing more was said. The way led to the top of one of those low +transverse swells that conceal the middle distance without actually +breaking the surface of the veldt. In the corresponding depression beyond +now could be discerned a wandering slender line of green. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Maji huko!</i>" murmured Simba. "There is the water." +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he stooped low, uttering a peculiar hissing sound. The white man, +too, dropped to the ground, throwing his rifle forward. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Nyama, bwana!</i>" he whispered fiercely, "<i>karibu sana!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +He pointed cautiously over the white man's shoulder. The safari, at the +sight of the two dropping to a crouch, had stopped as though petrified, +and stood waiting in silence. +</p> + +<p> +"We have no meat," Simba reminded his master in Swahili. +</p> + +<p> +The white man eased himself back to a sitting posture, resting his elbows +on his knees, as all sensible good rifle shots do when they have the +chance. Simba, his eyes glowing fiercely, staring with almost hypnotic +intensity over his master's shoulder, quivered like an eager dog. +</p> + +<p> +"Hah!" he grunted as the loud spat of the bullet followed the rifle's +crack. "<i>Na kamata</i>--he has it!" he added as the wildebeeste plunged into +full view. +</p> + +<p> +The hunter manipulated the bolt to throw in a new cartridge, but did not +shift his position. In less remote countries the sportsman, unlimited in +ammunition but restricted in chances, would probably have pumped in four +or five shots until the quarry was down. The traveller and Simba watched +closely, with expert eyes, to determine whether a precious second +cartridge should be expended. +</p> + +<p> +"Where?" asked the white man briefly. +</p> + +<p> +"Low in the shoulder," replied Simba. +</p> + +<p> +The wildebeeste plunged wildly here and there, kicking, bucking, menacing +the unseen danger with his horns. For several seconds longer the two +watched, then rose leisurely to their feet. Simba motioned to the waiting +safari, who, correctly interpreting the situation, broke into a trot. Both +Simba and his master knew that had the animal not received a mortal wound +it would before this have whirled to look back. The fact that it still ran +proved its extremity. Sure enough, within the hundred yards it suddenly +plunged forward on its nose, rolled over, and lay still. +</p> + +<p> +The fierce countenance of the gun bearer lit up in triumph. He shifted the +heavy rifle and reached out to touch the lighter weapon resting again in +the crook of his master's arm. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Nyama Yangu! Nyama Yangu!</i>" he murmured. That was Simba's name for the +light rifle that did most of the shooting. The words meant simply "my +meat." Simba had a name for everything from the sheath knife of his office +to the white man himself. Indeed Culbertson in the Central countries was +Culbertson to none. Should you inquire for news of him by that name news +you could not obtain; but of Bwana Kingozi you might learn from many +tribes and peoples. +</p> + +<p> +But now the safari, topping the hill, swept down with a rapid fire of +safari sticks against the loads and a chorus whose single word was +"<i>n'yama!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +Simba was already at the carcass, <i>Kisu M'kubwa</i>, his thin-bladed knife, +in his hand. The men eased their loads to the ground, and stood about with +eagerly gleaming eyes, as would well-trained dogs in like circumstances. +Simba briefly indicated the three nearest to act as his assistants. The +wildebeeste was rapidly skinned and as rapidly dismembered, the meat laid +aside. Only once did the white man speak or manifest the slightest +interest. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Sarrara indani yangu</i>--the tenderloin is mine." +</p> + +<p> +The wizened little headman with the umbrella and the <i>kiboko</i>, who +answered to the name of Cazi Moto, stepped forward and took charge of the +indicated delicacy. Soon all was ready for a resumption of the march. +Nothing was left of the wildebeeste save the head and the veriest offal. +The stomach and intestines, even, had been emptied of their contents and +packed away in the hide. +</p> + +<p> +Already the carrion birds had gathered in incredible numbers. The sky was +full of them circling; an encompassing ring of them sat a scant fifty +yards distant, their wings held half out from their bodies, as though they +felt overheated. And in the low bushes could be discerned the lurking, +furtive, shadowy jackals. +</p> + +<p> +The men were laughing, their weariness forgotten. Maulo, the camp +humourist, declaimed loudly at the top of his lungs, mocking the +marabouts, the buzzards, the vultures great and small, the kites and the +eagles. +</p> + +<p> +"Go to the lion," he cried, "he kills much, and leaves. Little meat will +you get here. We keep what we get!" +</p> + +<p> +And the men broke into meaningless but hearty laughter, as though at +brilliant wit. +</p> + +<p> +But Bwana Kingozi's low voice cut across the merriment. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bandika!</i>" he commanded. +</p> + +<p> +And immediately Cazi Moto and Simba took up the cry. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bandika! bandika! bandika!</i>" they vociferated over and over. Cazi Moto +moved here and there, lively as a cricket, his eyes alert for any +indication of slackness, his <i>kiboko</i> held threateningly. +</p> + +<p> +But there was no need for the latter. The men willingly enough swung aloft +their loads, now augmented by the meat, and the little caravan moved on. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had Cazi Moto, bringing up the rear, quitted the scene when the +carrion birds swooped. They fell from the open sky like plummets, their +wings half folded. When within ten feet of the ground they checked their +fall with pinion and tail, and the sound of them was like the roar of a +cataract. Those seated on the ground moved forward in a series of ungainly +hops, trying for more haste by futile urgings of their wings. Where the +wildebeeste had fallen was a writhing, flopping, struggling brown mass. In +an incredibly brief number of seconds it was all over. The birds withdrew. +Some sat disgruntled and humpbacked in the low trees; some merely hopped +away a few yards to indulge in gloomy thoughts. A few of the more +ambitious rose heavily and laboriously with strenuous beating of pinions, +finally to soar grandly away into the infinities of the African sky. Of +the wildebeeste remained only a trampled bloody space and bones picked +clean. The jackals crept forward at last. So brief a time did all this +occupy that Maulo, looking back, saw them. +</p> + +<p> +"Ho, little dogs!" he cried with one of his great empty laughs; "your +stomachs will go hollow but you can fill your noses!" +</p> + +<p> +They tramped on steadily toward the low narrow line of green trees, and +the sun sank toward the hills. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="ii">CHAPTER II</a></h2> + +<h3>THE CAMP</h3> + +<p> +The game trails converged at a point where the steep, eroded bank had been +broken down into an approach to a pool. The dust was deep here, and arose +in a cloud as a little band of zebra scrambled away. The borders of this +pool were a fascinating palimpsest: the tracks of many sorts of beast had +been impressed there in the mud. Both Kingozi and Simba examined them with +an approach to interest, though to an observer the examination would have +seemed but the most casual of glances. They saw the indications of zebra, +wildebeeste, hartebeeste, gazelles of various sorts, the deep, round, +well-like prints of the rhinoceros, and all the other usual inhabitants of +the veldt. But over these their eyes passed lightly. Only three things +could here interest these seasoned African travellers. Simba espied one of +them, and pointed it out, just at the edge of the narrow border of softer +mud. +</p> + +<p> +"There is the lion," said he. "A big one. He was here this morning. But no +buffalo, <i>bwana</i>; and no elephant." +</p> + +<p> +The water in the pool was muddy and foul. Thousands of animals drank from +it daily; and after drinking had stood or wallowed in it. The flavour +would be rich of the barnyard, which even a strong infusion of tea could +not disguise. <i>Kingozi</i> had often been forced to worse; but here he hoped +for better. +</p> + +<p> +The safari had dumped down the loads at the top of the bank, and were +resting in utter relaxation. The march was over, and they waited. +</p> + +<p> +Bwana Kingozi threw off the carefully calculated listless slouch that had +conserved his strength for an unknown goal. His work was not yet done. +</p> + +<p> +"Simba," he directed, "go that way, down the river[<a href="#1">1</a>] and look for another +pool--of good water. Take the big rifle." +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="1">1</a>: Every watercourse with any water at all, even in occasional +pools, is <i>m'to</i>--a river--in Africa.] +</p> + +<p> +"And I to go in the other direction?" asked Cazi Moto. +</p> + +<p> +Bwana Kingozi considered, glancing at the setting sun, and again up the +dry stream-bed where, as far as the eye could reach, were no more +indications of water. +</p> + +<p> +"No," he decided. "It is late. Soon the lions will be hunting. I will go." +</p> + +<p> +The men sprawled in abandon. After an interval a shrill whistle sounded +from the direction in which Bwana Kingozi had disappeared. The men +stretched and began to rise to their feet slowly. The short rest had +stiffened them and brought home the weariness to their bones. They +grumbled and muttered, and only the omnipresence of Cazi Moto and the +threat of his restless whip roused them to activity. Down the stream they +limped sullenly. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi stood waiting near the edge of the bank. The thicket here was very +dense. +</p> + +<p> +"Water there," he briefly indicated. "The big tent here; the opening in +that direction. Cook fire over there. Loads here." +</p> + +<p> +The men who had been standing, the burdens still on their heads, moved +forward. The tent porter--who, by the way, was the strongest and most +reliable of the men, so that always, even on a straggling march, the tent +would arrive first--threw it down at the place selected and at once began +to undo the cords. The bearers of the kitchen, who were also reliable +travellers, set about the cook camp. +</p> + +<p> +A big Monumwezi unstrapped a canvas chair, unfolded it, and placed it near +his master. The other loads were arranged here, in a certain long-ordained +order; the meat piled there. Several men then went to the assistance of +Mali-ya-bwana, the tent bearer; and the others methodically took up +various tasks. Some began with their <i>pangas</i> to hew a way to the water +through the dense thicket that had kept it sweet; others sought firewood; +still others began to pitch the tiny drill tents--each to accommodate six +men--in a wide circle of which the pile of loads was the centre. As the +men fell into the ordered and habitual routine their sullenness and +weariness vanished. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi dropped into the canvas chair, fumbled for a pipe, filled and +lighted it. With a sigh of relief he laid aside his cork helmet. The day +had not only been a hard one, but an anxious one, for this country was new +to every member of the little expedition, native guides had been +impossible to procure, and the chances of water had been those of an arid +region. +</p> + +<p> +The removal of the helmet for the first tune revealed the man's features. +A fine brow, upstanding thick and wavy hair, and the clearest of gray eyes +suddenly took twenty years from the age at first made probable by the +heavy beard. With the helmet pulled low this was late middle age; now +bareheaded it was only bearded youth. Nevertheless at the corners of the +eyes were certain wrinkles, and in the eyes themselves a direct competent +steadiness that was something apart from the usual acquisition of youth, +something the result of experience not given to most. +</p> + +<p> +He smoked quietly, his eye wandering from one point to another of the new-born camp's activities. One after another the men came to report the +completion of their tasks. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Pita ya maji tayiari</i>," said Sanguiki coming from the new-made water +trail. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>I zuru</i>," approved Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Hema tayiari</i>," reported Simba, reaching his hand for the light rifle. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi glanced toward the tent and nodded. A licking little fire +flickered in the cook camp. The tiny porter's tents had completed their +circle, and in front of each new smoke was beginning to rise. Cazi Moto +glided up and handed him the <i>kiboko</i>, the rhinoceros-hide whip, the +symbol of authority. Everything was in order. +</p> + +<p> +The white man rose a little stiffly and walked over to the pile of meat. +For a moment he examined it contemplatively, aroused himself with an +apparent effort, and began to separate it into four piles. He did not +handle the meat himself, but silently indicated each portion with his +<i>kiboko</i>, and Simba or Cazi Moto swiftly laid it aside. +</p> + +<p> +"This for the gun-bearer camp," commanded Kingozi, touching with his foot +the heavy "backstraps" and the liver--the next choicest bits after +tenderloin. He raised his voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Kavirondo!" he called. +</p> + +<p> +Several tall, well-formed black savages of this tribe arose from one of +the little fires and approached. The white man indicated one of the piles +of meat. +</p> + +<p> +"Wakamba!" he summoned; then "Monumwezi"; and finally "Baganda!" +</p> + +<p> +Thus the four tribes represented in his caravan were supplied. The men +returned to their fires, and began the preparation of their evening meal. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi turned to his own tent with a sigh of relief. Within it a cot had +been erected, blankets spread. An officer's tin box stood open at one end. +On the floor was a portable canvas bath. While the white man was divesting +himself of his accoutrements, Cazi Moto entered bearing a galvanized pail +full of hot water which he poured into the tub. He disappeared only to +return with a pail of cold water to temper the first. +</p> + +<p> +"Bath is ready, <i>bwana</i>," said he, and retired, carefully tying the tent +flaps behind him. +</p> + +<p> +Fifteen minutes later Kingozi emerged. He wore now a suit of pajamas +tucked into canvas "mosquito boots," with very thin soles. He looked +scrubbed and clean, the sheen of water still glistening on his thick wavy +hair. +</p> + +<p> +The canvas camp chair had been placed before two chop boxes piled one atop +the other to form a crude table on which were laid eating utensils. As +soon as Cazi Moto saw that his master was ready, he brought the meal. It +consisted simply of a platter of curry composed of rice and the fresh meat +that had been so recently killed that it had not time to get tough. This +was supplemented by bread and tea in a tall enamelware vessel known as a +<i>balauri</i>. From the simplicity of this meal one experienced would have +deduced--even had he not done so from a dozen other equally significant +nothings--that this was no sporting excursion, but an expedition grimly in +earnest about something. +</p> + +<p> +The sun had set, and almost immediately the darkness descended, as though +the light had been turned off at a switch. The earth shrunk to a pool of +blackness, and the heavens expanded to a glory of tropical stars. All +visible nature contracted to the light thrown by the flickering fires +before the tiny white tents. The tatterdemalion crew had, after the +curious habit of Africans, cast aside its garments, and sat forth in a +bronze and savage nakedness. All day long under the blistering sun your +safari man will wear all that he hath, even unto the heavy overcoat +discarded by the latest arrival from England's winter; but when the chill +of evening descends, then he strips happily. The men were fed now, and +were content. A busy chatter, the crooning of songs, laughter, an +occasional shout testified to this. A general relaxation took the camp. +</p> + +<p> +The white man finished his meal and lighted his pipe. Even yet his day's +work was not quite done, and he was unwilling to yield himself to rest +until all tasks were cleared away. +</p> + +<p> +"Cazi Moto!" he called. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly, it seemed, the headman stood at his elbow. +</p> + +<p> +"To-morrow," said Kingozi deliberately, and paused in decision so long +that Cazi Moto ventured a "Yes, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"To-morrow we rest here. It will be your <i>cazi</i> (duty) to find news of the +next water, or to find the water. See if there are people in this country. +Take one man with you. Let the men rest and eat." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Are there sick?" +</p> + +<p> +"Two men." +</p> + +<p> +"Let them come." +</p> + +<p> +Cazi Moto raised his voice. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>N'gonjwa!</i>" he summoned them. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi looked at them in silence for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +"What is the matter with you?" he asked of the first, a hulking, stupid-looking Kavirondo with the muscles of a Hercules. +</p> + +<p> +The man replied, addressing Cazi Moto, as is etiquette; and although +Kingozi understood perfectly, he awaited his headman's repetition of the +speech as though the Kavirondo had spoken a strange language. +</p> + +<p> +"Fever, eh?" commented Kingozi aloud to himself, for the first time +speaking his own tongue. "We'll soon see. Cazi Moto," he instructed in +Swahili, "the medicine." +</p> + +<p> +He thrust a clinical thermometer beneath the Kavirondo's tongue, glancing +at a wrist watch as he did so. +</p> + +<p> +"Cazi Moto," he said calmly after three minutes, "this man is a liar. He +is not sick; he merely wants to get out of carrying a load." +</p> + +<p> +The Kavirondo, his eyes rolling, shot forth a torrent of language. +</p> + +<p> +"He says," Cazi Moto summarized all this, "that he was very sick, but that +this medicine"--indicating the thermometer--"cured him." +</p> + +<p> +"He lies again," said Kingozi. "This is not medicine, but magic that tells +me when a man has uttered lies. This man must beware or he will get +<i>kiboko</i>." +</p> + +<p> +The Kavirondo scuttled away, and Kingozi gave his attention to the second +patient. This man had an infected leg that required some minor surgery. +When the job was over and Kingozi had washed his hands, he relighted his +pipe and sat back in his chair with a sigh of content. The immediate +foreground sank below his consciousness. He stared across the flickering +fires at the velvet blackness; listened across the intimate, idle noise of +the camp to the voice of the veldt. +</p> + +<p> +For with the fall of darkness and the larger silence of darkness, the +veldt awoke. Animals that had dozed through the hot hours and grazed +through the cooler hours in somnolent content now quivered alert. There +were runnings here and there, the stamp of hoofs, sharp snortings as taut +nerves stretched. Zebras uttered the absurd small-dog barks peculiar to +them; ostriches boomed; jackals yapped; unknown birds uttered hasty wild +calls. Numerous hyenas, near and far away, moaned like lost souls. Kingozi +listened as to the voice of an old acquaintance telling familiar things; +the men chattered on, their whole attention within the globe of light from +their fires. +</p> + +<p> +But suddenly the noise stopped as though it had been cut by a knife. Total +silence fell on the little encampment. The men, their various actions +suspended, listened intently. From far away, apparently, a low, vibrating +rumble stole out of the night's immensity. It rose and seemed to draw +near, growing hollow and great, until the very ground seemed to tremble as +though a heavy train were passing, or the lower notes of a great organ had +been played in a little church. And then it died down, and receded to the +great distance again, and was ended by three low, grunting coughs. +</p> + +<p> +The veldt was silent. The zebra barkings were still; the night birds had +hushed; the hyenas and jackals and all the other night creatures down--it +almost seemed--to the very insects had ceased their calls and cries and +chirpings. One might imagine every living creature rigid, alert, +listening, as were these men about the little fires. +</p> + +<p> +The tension relaxed. The men dropped more fuel on the fires, coaxing the +flame brighter. A whispering comment rose from group to group. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Simba! simba! simba!</i>" they hissed one to the other. +</p> + +<p> +A lion had roared! +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="iii">CHAPTER III</a></h2> + +<h3>THE RHINOCEROS</h3> + +<p> +In the first gray dusk Simba and Cazi Moto slipped away on the errands +appointed for them--to find people and to find water, if possible. The +cook camp, too, was afoot, dark figures passing and repassing before a +fire. But the rest of the men slept heavily, seizing the unwonted chance. +</p> + +<p> +When the first rays of the sun struck the fly of the small green master's-tent Kingozi appeared, demanding water wherewith to wash. At the sound of +his voice men stirred sleepily, sat up, poked the remains of their tiny +fires. As though through an open tap the freshness of night-time drained +away. The hot, searching, stifling African day took possession of the +world. +</p> + +<p> +After breakfast Kingozi looked about him for shelter. A gorgeous, red-flowering vine had smothered one of the flat-topped thorn trees in its +luxuriance. The growths of successive years had overlaid each other. +Kingozi called two men with <i>pangas</i> who speedily cut out the centre, +leaving a little round green room in the heart of the shadow. Thither +Kingozi caused to be conveyed his chop-box table, his canvas chair, and +his tin box; and there he spent the entire morning writing in a blank book +and carefully drawing from field notes in a pocketbook a sketch map of the +country he had traversed. At noon he ate a light meal of bread, plain rice +with sugar, and a <i>balauri</i> of tea. Then for a time he slept beneath the +mosquito bar in his tent. +</p> + +<p> +At this hour of fiercest sun the whole world slept with him. From the +baked earth rose heat waves almost as tangible as gauze veils. Objects at +a greater distance than a hundred yards took on strange distortions. The +thorn trees shot up to great heights; animals stood on stilts; the tops of +the hills were flattened, and from their summits often reached out into +space long streamers. Sometimes these latter joined across wide intervals, +creating an illusion of natural bridges or lofty flat-topped cliffs with +holes clear through them to the open sky beyond. All these things +shimmered and flickered and wavered in the mirage of noon. Only the sun +itself stared clear and unchanging. +</p> + +<p> +At about two o'clock Kingozi awoke and raised his voice. Mali-ya-bwana, +next in command after Cazi Moto and Simba, answered. +</p> + +<p> +"Get the big gun," he was told, "and the water bottles." +</p> + +<p> +Mali-ya-bwana was not a professed gun bearer, but he could load, and +Kingozi believed him staunch. Therefore, often, in absence of Simba, the +big Baganda had been pressed into this service. +</p> + +<p> +The blasting heat was fiercest at this hour. The air was saturated by it +just as water may hold a chemical in solution. Every little while a wave +would beat against the cheek as though a furnace door had been opened. +Nevertheless Kingozi knew that this was also the hour when the sun's power +begins to decline; when the vertical rays begin to give place. For it is +not heat that kills, but the actinic power of rays unfiltered by a long +slant through the earth's atmosphere. +</p> + +<p> +The two men tramped methodically along, paying little attention to their +surroundings. Game dozed everywhere beneath the scanty shade, sometimes +singly, sometimes in twos or threes, sometimes in herds. Motionless they +stood; and often, were it not for the switch of a tail, they would have +remained unobserved. Even the sentinel hartebeestes, posted atop high ant +hills on the outskirts of the herds, seemed half asleep. Nevertheless they +were awake enough for the job, as was evidenced when the two human figures +came too near. Then a snort brought every creature to its feet, staring. +</p> + +<p> +The objective of the men seemed to be a rise of land which the lessening +mirage now permitted to appear as a small kopje, a solitary hill with +rocky outcrops. Toward this they plodded methodically: Kingozi slouching +ahead, Mali-ya-bwana close at his heels, very proud of his temporary +promotion from the ranks. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. At the signal +Kingozi stopped and looked back inquiringly over his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +Mali-ya-bwana was pointing cautiously to a low red clay ant hill +immediately in their path and about thirty yards ahead. To the casual +glance it looked no different from any of the hundreds of others of like +size and colour everywhere to be seen. Kingozi's attention, however, now +narrowed to a smaller circle than the casual. It did not need Mali-ya-bwana's whispered "<i>faru</i>" (rhinoceros) to identify the mound. +</p> + +<p> +Cautiously the two men began to back away. When they had receded some +twenty yards, however, the huge beast leaped to its feet. The rapidity of +its movements was extraordinary. There intervened none of the slow and +clumsy upheaval one would naturally expect from an animal of so massive a +body and such short, thick legs. One moment it slumbered, the next it was +afoot, warned by some slight sound or jar of the earth or--as some +maintain--by a telepathic sense of danger. Certainly, as far as they knew, +neither Kingozi nor Mali-ya-bwana had disturbed a pebble or broken a twig. +</p> + +<p> +The rhinoceros faced them, snorting loudly. The sound was exactly that of +steam roaring from a locomotive's safety valve. Strangely enough, in spite +of the massive structure and the loose, thick skin of the beast, it +conveyed an impression of taut, nervous muscles. Though it faced directly +toward them, the men knew that they were as yet unseen. The rhinoceros' +eyesight is very short, or very circumscribed, or both; and only objects +in motion and comparatively close enter its range of vision. Kingozi and +his man held themselves rigidly immovable, waiting for what would happen. +The rhinoceros, too, held himself rigidly immovable, his nostrils dilating +between snorts, his ears turning; for his senses of smell and hearing made +up in their keenness for the defects of his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, without the slightest warning, he stuck his tail perpendicular +and plunged forward at a clumsy-looking but exceedingly swift gallop. +</p> + +<p> +An inexperienced man would have considered himself the object of a +deliberate "charge"; but an old African traveller, such as Kingozi, knew +this for a blind rush in the direction toward which the animal happened to +be headed. The rhinoceros, alarmed by the first intimation of danger, +unable to get further news from its keener senses, had been seized by a +panic. Were nothing to deflect him from the straight line, he would +continue ahead on it until the panic had run out. +</p> + +<p> +But the two men were exactly in that line! +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi hitched his light rifle forward imperceptibly. Although this was +at present only a blind rush, should the rhinoceros catch sight of them he +would fight; and within twenty-five yards or so his eyesight would be +quite good enough. As the beast did not slow up in the first ten yards, +but rather settled into its stride, Kingozi took rapid aim and fired. +</p> + +<p> +His intention was neither to kill nor to cripple his antagonist. If that +had been the case, he would have used the heavy double rifle that Mali-ya-bwana held ready near his elbow. The bullet inflicted a slight flesh wound +in the outer surface of the beast's left shoulder. Kingozi instantly +passed the light rifle back with his right hand, at the same motion +seizing the double rifle with his left. +</p> + +<p> +But at the <i>spat</i> of the bullet the rhino veered toward the direction from +which it seemed to his stupid brain the hurt had come. Tail erect, he +thundered away down the slope. +</p> + +<p> +For a hundred yards he careered full speed, then slowed to a trot, finally +stopped, whirled, and faced to a new direction. The sound of his blowing +came clearly across the intervening distance. +</p> + +<p> +A low bush grew near. The rhino attacked this savagely, horning it, +trampling it down. The dust arose in clouds. Then the huge brute trotted +slowly away, still snorting angrily, pausing to butt violently the larger +trees, or to tear into shreds some bush or ant hill that loomed +dangerously in the primeval fogs of his brain. +</p> + +<p> +"Sorry, old chap," commented Kingozi in his own language, "but you're none +the worse. Only I'm afraid your naturally sweet temper is spoiled for to-day, at least." +</p> + +<p> +He turned to exchange guns with Mali-ya-bwana. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>N'dio, bwana</i>," assented the latter to a speech of which he understood +not one word. Mali-ya-bwana was secretly a little proud of himself for +having stuck like a gun bearer, instead of shinning up a thorn tree like a +porter. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi slipped a cartridge into the rifle, and the two resumed their walk +toward the kopje. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="iv">CHAPTER IV</a></h2> + +<h3>THE STRANGER</h3> + +<p> +By the time the two men had gained the top of the hill the worst heat of +the day had passed. Kingozi seated himself on a flat rock and at once +began to take sights through a prismatic compass, entering the +observations in a pocketbook. Mali-ya-bwana, bolt upright, stared out over +the thinly wooded plain below. He reported the result of his scouting in a +low voice, to which the white man paid no attention whatever. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Twiga[<a href="#2">2</a>] bwana</i>," he said, and then, as his eye caught the flash of many +sing-sing horns, "<i>kuru, mingi</i>." Thus he named over the different +animals--the topi, the red hartebeeste, the eland, zebra, some warthogs, +and many others. The beasts were anticipating the cool of the afternoon, +and were grazing slowly out from beneath the trees, scattering abroad over +the landscape. +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="2">2</a>: Giraffe.] +</p> + +<p> +From even this slight elevation the outlook extended. Isolated mountain +ranges showed loftier; the tops of unguessed hills peeped above the curve +of the earth; the clear line of the horizon had receded to the outer +confines of terrestrial space, but even then not far enough to touch the +cup of the sky. Elsewhere the heavens meet the horizon: in Africa they lie +beyond it, so that when the round, fleecy clouds of the Little Rains sail +down the wind there is always a fleet of them beyond the earth +disappearing into the immensities of the infinite. There is space in +African skies beyond the experience of those who have dwelt only in other +lands. They dwarf the earth; and the plains and mountains, lying in weeks' +journeys spread before the eye, dwarf all living things, so that at the +last the man of imagination here becomes a humble creature. +</p> + +<p> +For an hour the two remained on top the kopje. The details of the unknown +country ahead, toward which Kingozi gave his attention, were simple. From +the green line of the watercourse, near which the camp showed white and +tiny, the veldt swept away for miles almost unbroken. Here and there were +tiny parklike openings of clear grass; here and there more kopjes standing +isolated and alone, like fortresses. Far down over the edge of the world +showed dim and blue the tops of a short range of mountains. Vainly did +Kingozi sweep his glasses over the landscape in hope of another line of +green. No watercourse was visible. On the other hand, the scattered growth +of thorn trees showed no signs of thickening to the dense spiky jungle +that is one of the terrors of African travel. There might be a watercourse +hidden in the folds of the earth; there might be a rainwater "tank," or a +spring, on any of the kopjes. Simba and Cazi Moto were both experienced, +and capable of a long round trip. The problem of days' journeys was not +pressing at this moment. Kingozi noted the compass bearings of all the +kopjes; took back sights in the direction from which he had come; closed +his compass; and began idly to sweep the country with his glasses. In an +unwonted mood of expansion he turned to Mali-ya-bwana. +</p> + +<p> +"We go there," he told the porter, indicating the blue mountain-tops. +</p> + +<p> +"It is far," Mali-ya-bwana replied. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi continued to look through his glasses. Suddenly he stopped them on +an open plain three or four miles back in the direction from which he had +come the day before. Mali-ya-bwana followed his gaze. +</p> + +<p> +"A safari, <i>bwana</i>," he observed, unmoved. "A very large safari," he +amended, after a moment. +</p> + +<p> +Through his prismatic glasses Kingozi could see every detail plainly. +After his fashion of talking aloud, he reported what he saw, partly to the +black man at his side, but mostly to himself. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Askaris</i>,"[<a href="#3">3</a>] he said, "six of them. The man rides in a <i>machele</i>[<a href="#4">4</a>]--he +is either a German or a Portuguese; only those people use <i>macheles</i>--unless he is sick! Many porters--four are no more white men. More +<i>askaris!</i>" He smiled a little contemptuously under his beard. "This is a +great safari, Mali-ya-bwana. Four tin boxes and twelve <i>askaris</i> to guard +them; and eighty or more porters; and sixteen men just to carry the +<i>machele!</i> This must be a <i>Bwana M' Kubwa</i>." +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="3">3</a>: Native troops, armed with Snider muskets.] +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="4">4</a>: A hammock slung on a long pole, and carried by four men at +each end.] +</p> + +<p> +"That is what Kavirondos might think," replied Mali-ya-bwana calmly. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi looked up at him with a new curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +"But not yourself?" +</p> + +<p> +"A man who is a <i>Bwana M'kubwa</i> does not have to be carried. He does not +need <i>askaris</i> to guard him in this country. And where can he get <i>potio</i> +for so many?" +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo!" cried Kingozi, surprised. "This is not porter's talk; this is +headman's talk!" +</p> + +<p> +"In my own country I am headman of many people," replied Mali-ya-bwana +with a flash of pride. +</p> + +<p> +"Yet you carry my tent load." +</p> + +<p> +But Mali-ya-bwana made no reply, fixing his fierce eyes on the distant +crawling safari. +</p> + +<p> +"It must be a sportsman's safari," said Kingozi, this time to himself, +"though what a sportsman wants in this back-of-beyond is a fair conundrum. +Probably one of these chappies with more money than sense: wants to go +somewhere nobody else has been, and can't go there without his caviare and +his changes of clothes, and about eight guns--not to speak of a Complete +Sportsman's Outfit as advertised exclusively by some Cockney Tom Fool on +Haymarket." + +He contemplated a problem frowningly. "Whoever it is will be a nuisance--a +<i>damn</i> nuisance!" he concluded. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>N'dio, bwana</i>," came Mali-ya-bwana's cheerful response to this speech in +a language strange to him. +</p> + +<p> +"You have asked a true question," Kingozi shifted to Swahili. "Where is +<i>potio</i> to be had for so large a safari? Trouble--much trouble!" He arose +from the flat stone. "We will go and talk with this safari." +</p> + +<p> +At an angle calculated to intercept the caravan, Kingozi set off down the +hill. +</p> + +<p> +After twenty minutes' brisk walk it became evident that they were +approaching the route of march. Animals fled past them in increasing +numbers, some headlong, others at a dignified and leisurely gait, as +though performing a duty. The confused noise of many people became audible +and the tapping of safari sticks against the loads. +</p> + +<p> +At the edge of a tiny opening Kingozi, concealed behind a bush, reviewed +the new arrivals at close range, estimating each element on which a +judgment could be based. As usual, he thought aloud, muttering his +speculations sometimes in his own language, sometimes in the equally +familiar Swahili. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Askaris</i> not <i>pukha[<a href="#5">5</a>] askaris</i> of the government. Those are not Sniders +they carry--don't know that kind of musket. Those boxes are not the usual +type--wonder where they were bought!" +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="5">5:</a> Genuine--regular.] +</p> + +<p> +The hammock came into view, swinging on the long pole. It was borne by +four men at each end--experienced <i>machele</i> carriers who would keep step +with a gentle gliding. Eight more walked alongside as relay. They would +change places so skilfully that the occupant of the hammock could not have +told when the shift took place. Alongside walked a tall, bareheaded, very +black man. Kingozi's experienced eye was caught by differences. +</p> + +<p> +"Of what tribe is that man?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +But Mali-ya-bwana was also puzzled. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know, bwana. He is a <i>shenzi</i>[<a href="#6">6</a>]." +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="6">6</a>: Wild Man.] +</p> + +<p> +The unknown was very tall, very straight, most well formed. But his face +was extraordinarily ugly. His flat, wide nose, thick lips, and small +yellow eyes were set off by an upstanding mop of hair. His expression was +of extraordinary fierceness. He walked with a free and independent stride, +and carried a rifle. +</p> + +<p> +"He is not of this country. He is from the west coast, or perhaps Nubia or +the Sudan," was Kingozi's conclusion. +</p> + +<p> +"Many of these people are <i>shenzis</i>," Mali-ya-bwana pursued his own +thought. +</p> + +<p> +"That is true," Kingozi acknowledged. "If this is a sportsman, from what +part did he hail to have got together this lot! We will see." +</p> + +<p> +As the swinging hammock came opposite his concealment, Kingozi stepped +forward. +</p> + +<p> +Every one in sight looked in his direction, but none showed any +astonishment at this apparition out of the wilderness. The sophisticated +African has ceased to be surprised at anything a white man may do. If he +can make fire by rubbing a tiny stick <i>once</i>, why should he not do +anything under heaven he wants to? A locomotive, an automobile, a flying +machine are miracles, but no less--and no greater--than ordinary matches. +Once admit the ability to transcend natural laws, once admit the +possibility of miracles, why be surprised at anything? If a white man +chose to appear thus in an unknown country, why not? If he chose again to +vanish into thin air, again why not? Only the fierce-looking savage +carrying the rifle rolled his eyes uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +But at this precise moment a diversion on the opposite side of the line +attracted attention enough. A galvanic shiver ran down the string of +porters, succeeded at once by a crashing of loads cast hastily to the +ground. With unanimity the bearers swarmed across the little open space +toward and to either side of Kingozi and his attendant. Reaching the +fringe of flat-topped trees they sprang into the low branches, heedless of +the long thorns, and scrambled aloft until at least partially concealed. A +few of the bolder members lurked behind the trunks, but held themselves +ready for an instant ascent. From a hundred throats arose a confused cry +of "<i>Faru! Faru!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +Not joining this first flight remained only the <i>askaris</i>, the eight men +bearing the hammock, and the tall Nubian. Of these the <i>askaris</i> were far +ahead and to the rear; the hammock bearers were decidedly panicky; only +the Nubian seemed cool and self-possessed. The occupant of the hammock +thrust out a foot to descend. +</p> + +<p> +But before this could be accomplished a rhinoceros burst fully into view +across the open space. His tail was up, he was snorting loudly, and he +headed straight for the hammock. That was large, moving, and directly in +his line of vision. The sight was too much for the bearers. With a howl +they dropped the pole and streaked it to join their brothers in the thorn +trees. The pole and the canopy of the hammock tangled inextricably its +occupant. +</p> + +<p> +A ragged volley from the muskets of the <i>askaris</i> merely seemed to add to +the confusion. With great coolness the Nubian discharged first one barrel +then the other of the heavy rifle he carried. The recoil, catching him in +a bad posture, knocked him backward. The bullets kicked up a tremendous +dust part way between himself and the charging beast. He was now without +defence. Nevertheless he stepped in front of the entangled struggling +figure on the ground. +</p> + +<p> +Before the appearance of the rhinoceros into the open Kingozi had +exchanged rifles, and stood at the ready. He was a good hundred yards from +the hammock. Even in the rush of events he, characteristically, found time +for comments, although they did not in the least interfere with his rapid +movements. +</p> + +<p> +"Hope they don't wing one another," he remarked of the <i>askaris'</i> volley. +"Rotten shooting! rotten!" as the Nubian stood his ground. At the same +time he pushed forward the safety catch and threw the heavy rifle to his +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +A charging rhinoceros--or one rushing near enough a man's direction to be +dangerous--is not a difficult problem. Given nerve enough, and barring +accidents--which might happen in a London flat--a man is in no danger. If +he opens fire too soon, indeed, he is likely to empty his weapon without +inflicting a stopping wound, but if he will wait until the beast is within +twenty yards or so, the affair is certain. For this reason: just before a +rhinoceros closes, he drops his head low in order to bring his long horn +into action. If the hunter fires then, over the horn, he will strike the +beast's backbone. The shot can hardly be missed, for the range is very +close and the outstanding flanges of the vertebrae make a large mark. The +formidable animal goes down like a stone. In country open enough to +preclude the deadly close-at-hand surprise rush, where one has no chance +to use his weapon at all, the rhinoceros is not dangerous to one who knows +his business. +</p> + +<p> +But in this case Kingozi was nearer a hundred and twenty than twenty yards +from the animal. The mark to be hit was now very small; and it was moving. +In addition the heavy double rifle, while accurate enough at that range, +was not, owing to its weight and terrific recoil, as certain as a lighter +rifle. These things Kingozi knew perfectly. The muscles under his beard +tightened; his gray eyes widened into a glare like that of Simba in sight +of game. +</p> + +<p> +Just before the rhinoceros dropped his head for the toss, the Nubian +stepped directly into the line of fire. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Lala!</i>--lie down!" Kingozi shouted. +</p> + +<p> +Somehow the whip-snap of authority in his voice reached the Nubian's +consciousness. He dropped flat, and almost instantly the white man fired. + +At the roar of the great gun the rhinoceros collapsed in mid career, going +down, as an animal always does under a successful spine shot, completely, +without a struggle or even a quiver. +</p> + +<p> +"That was well shot, master," said Mali-ya-bwana. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi reloaded the rifle and started forward. At the same time the +occupant of the hammock finally emerged from the tangle and came erect. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="v">CHAPTER V</a></h2> + +<h3>THE ENCOUNTER</h3> + +<p> +Kingozi saw a tall figure without a coat, dressed in brown shirt, riding +breeches, and puttees. The Nubian had retrieved a spilled sun helmet even +before the stranger had scrambled erect, so the head and face were +invisible. Kingozi's countenance did not change, but a faint contempt +appeared in his eyes. The first impression conveyed by the numbers of the +tin boxes and their bearers and escort had been deepened. Why? Because the +riding breeches were of that exaggerated cut sometimes actually to be seen +outside tailor's advertisements. They were gathered trimly around an +effeminately slender waist, and then ballooned out to an absurd width, +only to contract again skin tight around the knees. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>M'buzi!</i>" grunted Kingozi, applying to the stranger the superlative of +Swahili contempt. He did not know he spoke aloud; for it is not well for +one white man to criticise another to a native. But Mali-ya-bwana replied. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bibi</i>," he corrected. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi stared. "By Jove, you're right!" he exclaimed in English. "It <i>is</i> +a woman!" He burst into an unexpected laugh. "It isn't balloon breeches; +it's <i>hips!</i>" he cried. This correction seemed to him singularly humorous. +He approached her, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +It was evidently an angry woman, to judge by her gestures and the +deprecating attitude of the Nubian. Kingozi surmised that she probably did +not fancy being dumped down incontinently before an angry rhinoceros. +After a moment, however, her attitude lost its rigidity, she gestured +toward the dead monster, evidently commending the savage. He shook his +head and motioned in Kingozi's direction. The woman turned, showing an +astonished face. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi was now close up. He saw before him a personality. Physically she +was beautiful or not, according as one accepted conventional standards. +The dress she wore revealed fully the fact that she had a tall, well-knit +figure of long, full curves; a thoroughly feminine figure in conformation, +and yet one that looked competent to transcend the usual feminine +incompetencies. So far she measured to a high but customary standard. But +her face was as exotic as an orchid. It was long, narrow, and pale with +three accents to redeem it from what that ordinarily implies--lips of a +brilliant carmine, eyes of a deep sea-green, and eyebrows high, arched, +clean cut, narrow as though drawn by a camel's-hair brush. Indeed, in +civilization no one would have believed them to have been otherwise +produced. In spite of the awkward sun helmet she carried her head +imperiously. +</p> + +<p> +"If you <i>will</i> ride in a hammock, you ought to teach your men to shoot," +was Kingozi's greeting. "It's absurd to go barging through a rhino country +like this. You look strong and healthy. Why don't you walk?" +</p> + +<p> +Her crest reared and her nostrils expanded haughtily. For a half-minute +she stared at him, her sea-green eyes darkening to greater depths. This +did not disturb Kingozi in the least: indeed he did not see it. His eyes +were taking in the surroundings. +</p> + +<p> +The dead rhinoceros lay a scant fifteen paces distant; loads were +scattered everywhere; the <i>askaris</i>, their ancient muskets reloaded, had +drawn near in curiosity. From the thorn trees across the tiny grass +opening porters were descending, very gingerly, and with lamentations. It +is comparatively easy to ascend a thorn tree with the fear of death +snapping at your heels: to descend in cold blood is another matter. +</p> + +<p> +"Why don't you do your work!" he addressed the soldiers. "Do you want to +catch <i>kiboko</i>?" +</p> + +<p> +The startled <i>askaris</i> scuttled away about their business, which was, at +this moment, to herd and hustle the reluctant porters back to their job. +Kingozi, his head and jaw thrust forward, stared after them, his eyes--indeed, his whole personality--projecting aggressive force. The men +hurried to their positions, their loud laughter stilled, glancing +fearfully and furtively over their shoulders, whipped by the baleful glare +with which Kingozi silently battered them. +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a name="illusp040.jpg"></a> +<a href="images/illusp040.jpg"><img src="images/illusp040_th.jpg" alt="'If you <i>will</i> ride in a hammock, you ought to teach your +men to shoot,' was Kingozi's greeting"></a> +</p> + +<p> +Only when the last man had picked up his load did Kingozi turn again to +the woman. Although her bosom still heaved with emotion, it was a +suppressed emotion. He met a face slightly and inscrutably smiling. +</p> + +<p> +"You take it upon yourself to manage my safari?" she said. "You think I +cannot manage my men? It is kind of you." +</p> + +<p> +Her English was faultless, but some slight unusual spacing of the words, +some ultra-clarity of pronunciation, rather than a recognizable accent, +made evident that the language was not her own. +</p> + +<p> +"Your <i>askaris</i> are slack," said Kingozi briefly. +</p> + +<p> +"And how of these?" she demanded imperiously, sweeping with an almost +theatrical gesture the miserable-looking group of hammock bearers. +</p> + +<p> +"They are at fault," replied Kingozi indifferently, "but after all they +are common porters. You can't expect gun-bearer service or <i>askari</i> +service from common porters, now can you?" +</p> + +<p> +He looked at her directly, his clear, steady eyes conveying nothing but a +mild interest in the obvious. In contrast to his detached almost +indifferent calm, the woman was an embodiment of emotions. Head erect, red +lips compressed, breast heaving, she surveyed him through narrowed lids. +</p> + +<p> +"So?" she contented herself with saying. +</p> + +<p> +"It's the nature of the beast to run crazy," pursued Kingozi tranquilly. +"You really can't blame them." +</p> + +<p> +"Then am I to be thrown down, like a sack, when it pleases them to run?" +she demanded tensely. "Really, you are incredible." +</p> + +<p> +"I should expect it. The real point is that you have no business to ride +in a hammock through a rhino country." +</p> + +<p> +The woman's control slipped a very little. +</p> + +<p> +"Who are you to teach me my business?" +</p> + +<p> +For the first time Kingozi's careless, candid stare narrowed to a focus. +</p> + +<p> +"You have not told me what your business is," he replied with an edge of +intention in his tones. Their glances crossed like rapiers for the flash +of an instant. +</p> + +<p> +She turned to the hammock bearers. +</p> + +<p> +"Lie down!" she commanded. Then to the impassive Nubian, "The <i>kiboko!</i> I +suppose," she observed politely to Kingozi, "that you will admit these men +should be punished, and that you will permit me to do so?" +</p> + +<p> +"Surely they should be punished; that goes without saying." +</p> + +<p> +"Give them thirty apiece," she ordered the Nubian. +</p> + +<p> +"That is too many," interposed Kingozi. "Six is a great plenty for such +people. It is their nature to run away." +</p> + +<p> +"Thirty," she repeated to the Nubian, without a glance in the white man's +direction. +</p> + +<p> +The huge negro produced the rhinoceros-hide whip, and went to his task. To +lay thirty lashes on sixteen backs and to do justice to the occasion is a +great task. The Nubian's face streamed sweat when he had finished. The +bearers, who had taken the punishment in silence, arose, saluted, and +begun to skylark among themselves, which was their way of working off +emotion. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Askaris!</i>" summoned the woman. +</p> + +<p> +They came trotting. +</p> + +<p> +"Lay down your guns! Lie down!" +</p> + +<p> +A mild wonder appeared in Kingozi's gray eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you <i>kiboko</i> your <i>askaris?</i>" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +She jerked her head in his direction. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you presume to question my actions?" +</p> + +<p> +"By no means; I am interested in methods." +</p> + +<p> +She paid him no more attention. Kingozi waited patiently until this second +bout of punishment was over. The <i>askaris</i> lay quietly face down until +their mistress gave the word, then leaped to their feet, saluted smartly, +seized their guns, and marched jauntily to their appointed positions. The +woman watched them for a moment, and turned back to Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +Her mood had completely changed. The orgy of punishment had cleared away +the nervous effects of the fright she had undergone. +</p> + +<p> +"So; that is done," she said. "I have travelled much in Africa. I what you +call know my way about. See how my men fall into line. It will be so at +camp. <i>Presto!</i> Quick! The tents will be up, the fires made." +</p> + +<p> +Her lips smiled at him, but her sea-green eyes remained steady and +inscrutable. +</p> + +<p> +"They seem smart enough," acknowledged Kingozi without interest. "Have you +ever tried them out?" +</p> + +<p> +"Tried them out?" she repeated. "I do not understand." +</p> + +<p> +"You never know what hold you really have until you get in a tight place." +</p> + +<p> +"And if I get in a 'tight place,'" she rejoined haughtily, "I shall get +out again--without help from negroes--or anybody." +</p> + +<p> +"Quite so," conceded Kingozi equably. His attitude and the tone of his +voice were indifferent, but the merest flicker of the tail of his eye +touched the dead rhino. His expression remained quite bland. She saw this. +The pallor of her cheek did not warm, but her strangely expressive eyes +changed. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bandika!</i>" she cried sharply. The men began to take up their loads. +</p> + +<p> +"I will wish you a good afternoon," observed Kingozi as though taking his +leave from an afternoon tea. "By the way, do you happen to care for +information about the next water, or do you know all that?" "Thank you, I +know all that," she replied curtly. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>askaris</i> began to shout the order for the advance, "<i>Nenda! nenda!</i>" +the men to swing forward. Kingozi stared after them, watching with a +professional eye the way they walked, the make-up of their loads, the +nature of their equipment; marking the lame ones, or the weak ones, or the +ones recently sick. His eye fell on the figure of the strange woman. She +was striding along easily, the hammock deserted, with a free swing of the +hips, an easy, slouch of the relaxed knees that indicated the accustomed +walker. Kingozi smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"'I know all that,'" he repeated. "Now I wonder if you do, or if some idea +of silly pride makes you say so." He was talking aloud, in English. Mali-ya-bwana stood attentive, waiting for something he could understand. +Kingozi's eye fell on the dead rhinoceros. +</p> + +<p> +"There is good meat; tell the men they can come out to get what they wish +of it. There will be lions here to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"If she 'knew all that,'" observed Kingozi, "she knew more than I did. +Small chance. Still, if she has information or guides, she may know the +next water. But how? Why?" +</p> + +<p> +He shifted his rifle to the crook of his arm. +</p> + +<p> +"That <i>bibi</i> is a great <i>memsahib</i>," he told Mali-ya-bwana. "And this +evening we will go to see her. Be you ready to go also." +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="vi">CHAPTER VI</a></h2> + +<h3>THE LEOPARD WOMAN</h3> + +<p> +In the early darkness of equatorial Africa Kingozi, accompanied by Mali-ya-bwana with a lantern, crossed over to the other camp. Simba and Cazi +Moto had come in almost at dusk; but they were very tired, and Kingozi +considered it advisable to let them rest. They had covered probably +thirty-five miles. Cazi Moto had found no water, and no traces of water. +Furthermore, the game had thinned and disappeared. Only old tracks, old +trails, old signs indicated that after the Big Rains the country might be +habitable for the beasts. But Simba had discovered a concealed "tank" in a +kopje. He had worked his way to it by "lining" the straight swift flight +of green pigeons, as a bee hunter on the plains used to line the flight of +bees. The tank proved to be a deep, hidden recess far back under +overhanging rocks, at once concealed and protected from the sun and +animals. Its water was sweet and abundant. +</p> + +<p> +"No one has used that water. It is an unknown water," concluded Simba. +</p> + +<p> +"How far?" +</p> + +<p> +"Four hours." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Vema</i>." Kingozi bestowed on him the word of highest praise. +</p> + +<p> +The stranger woman's camp was not far away; in fact, but just across the +little dry stream-bed. Her safari was using the same pool with Kingozi's. +</p> + +<p> +At the edge of the camp he paused to take in its disposition. From one +detail to another his eye wandered, and in it dawned a growing approval. +Your native, left to his own devices, pitches his little tents haphazard +here, there, and everywhere, according as his fancy turns to this or that +bush, thicket, or clump of grass. Such a camp straggles abominably. But +here was no such confusion. Back from the water-hole a hundred yards, atop +a slight rise, and under the thickest of the trees, stood a large green +tent with a projecting fly. A huge pile of firewood had been dumped down +in front of it, and at that very moment one of the <i>askaris</i>, kneeling, +was kindling a fire. Behind the big tent, and at some remove, gleamed the +circle of porters' tents each with its little blaze. Loads were piled +neatly, covered with a tarpaulin, and the pile guarded by an <i>askari</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi strode across the intervening space. +</p> + +<p> +Before the big tent a table had been placed, and beside the table a +reclining canvas chair of the folding variety. On a spread of figured blue +cloth stood a bottle of lime juice, a sparklets, and an enamelware bowl +containing flowers. The strange woman was stretched luxuriously in the +chair smoking a cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +She wore a short-sleeved lilac tea gown of thin silk, lilac silk +stockings, and high-heeled slippers. Her hair fell in two long braids over +her shoulders and between her breasts, which the thin silk defined. Her +figure in the long chair fell into sinuous, graceful, relaxed lines. As he +approached she looked at him over the glowing cigarette; and her eyes +seemed to nicker with a strange restlessness. This contrast--of the +restless eyes and the relaxed, graceful body--reminded Kingozi of +something. His mind groped for a moment; then he had it. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bibi ya chui!</i>" he said, half to himself, half to his companion, "The +Leopard Woman!" +</p> + +<p> +And, parenthetically, from that moment <i>Bibi-ya-chui</i>--the Leopard Woman--was the name by which she was known among the children of the sun. +</p> + +<p> +She did not greet him in any way, but turned her head to address commands. +</p> + +<p> +"Bring a chair for the <i>bwana</i>; bring cigarettes; bring <i>balauri--lime juice</i>----" +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi found himself established comfortably. +</p> + +<p> +She moved her whole body slightly sidewise, the better to face him. The +soft silk fell in new lines about her, defining new curves. Her red lips +smiled softly, and her eyes were dark and inscrutable. +</p> + +<p> +"I was what you call horrid to-day," she said. "It was not me: it was the +frightenedness from the rhinoceros. I was very much frightened, so I had +the porters beaten. That was horrid, was it not? Do you understand it? I +suppose not. Men have no nerves, like women. They are brave always. I have +not said what I feel. I have heard of you--the most wonderful shot in +Central Africa. I believe it--now." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi's eyes were lingering on her silk-clad form, the peep of ankles +below her robe. She observed him with slanted eyes, and a little breath of +satisfaction raised her bosom. Abruptly he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"Aren't you afraid of fever mosquitoes in that rig?" said he. +</p> + +<p> +Her body stirred convulsively, and her finely pencilled eyebrows, with +their perpetual air of surprise, moved with impatience; but her voice +answered him equably: +</p> + +<p> +"My friend, at the close of the hard day I must have my comfort. There can +be no fever here, for there are no people here. When in the fever country +I have my 'rig'"--subtly she shaded the word--"just the same. But I have a +net--a big net--like a tent beneath which I sit. Does that satisfy you?" +</p> + +<p> +She spoke with the obvious painstaking patience that one uses to instruct +a child, but with a veiled irony meant for an older intelligence. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"I do appear to catechize you, don't I? But I am interested. It is +difficult to realize that a woman alone can understand this kind of +travel." +</p> + +<p> +He had thrown off his guarded abstraction, and smiled across at her as +frankly as a boy. The gravity of his face broke into wrinkles of laughter; +his steady eyes twinkled; his smile showed strong white teeth. In spite of +his bushy beard he looked a boy. The woman stared at him, her cigarette +suspended. +</p> + +<p> +"You have instructed me about my camp; you have instructed me about my +men; you have instructed me about my marching; you have even instructed me +about my clothes." She tallied the counts on her slender fingers. "Now I +must instruct you." +</p> + +<p> +"Guilty, I am afraid," he smiled; "but ready to take punishment." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well." With a sinuous movement she turned on her elbow to face him. +"Listen! It is this: you should not wear that beard." +</p> + +<p> +She fell back, and raised the cigarette to her lips. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Kingozi stared at her speechless with surprise; but +immediately recovered. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall give to your advice the same respectful consideration you accord +mine," he assured her gravely. +</p> + +<p> +She laughed in genuine amusement. +</p> + +<p> +"Only I have more excuse," continued Kingozi. "A woman--alone--so far +away----" +</p> + +<p> +"You said that before," she interrupted. "In other words, what in--what-you-call? Oh, yes! what in hell am I doing up here? Is that it?" +</p> + +<p> +She turned on him a wide-eyed stare. Kingozi chuckled. +</p> + +<p> +"That's it. What in--in hell <i>are</i> you doing up here?" +</p> + +<p> +"Listen, my friend. In this world I do what I please--always. And when I +find that which people tell me cannot be done, that I do--at once. My life +is full of those things which could not be done, but which I have done." +</p> + +<p> +"I believe you," said Kingozi, but he said it to himself. +</p> + +<p> +"I have done them at home--where I live. I have done them in the cities +and courts. Whatever the people tell me is impossible--'Oh, it cannot be +done!'--with the uplifted hand and eye--you understand--that I do. Four +years ago I came to Africa, and in Africa I have done what they tell me +women have never done. I have travelled in the Kameroons, in Nyassaland, +in Somaliland, in Abyssinia. Then they tell me--'yes, that is very well, +but you follow a track. It is a dim track; but it is there. You go alone--yes; but you have us at your back.' And I ask them: 'What then? where is +this place where there is no track?' And they wave their hands, and say +'Over yonder'; so I come!" +</p> + +<p> +She recited all this dramatically, using her hands much in gesticulation, +her eyes flashing. In proportion as she became animated Kingozi withdrew +into his customary stolid calm. +</p> + +<p> +"Quite so," he commented, "spirit of adventure, and all that sort of +thing. Where did you get this lot?" +</p> + +<p> +"What?" +</p> + +<p> +He waved his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Your men." +</p> + +<p> +She considered him a barely appreciable instant. +</p> + +<p> +"Why--the usual way--from the coast." +</p> + +<p> +"They are strange to me--I do not recognize their tribes," Kingozi replied +blandly. "So you are pushing out into the Unknown. How far do you consider +going?" +</p> + +<p> +"Until it pleases me to stop." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi produced his pipe. +</p> + +<p> +"If you do not mind?" he requested. He deliberately filled and lighted it. +After a few strong puffs he resumed: +</p> + +<p> +"The country, you say, is unknown to you." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course." +</p> + +<p> +"I imagined you told me this afternoon that you knew of this water. I must +have been mistaken." +</p> + +<p> +He blew a cloud, gazing straight ahead of him in obviously assumed +innocence. She examined him with a narrow, sidelong glance. +</p> + +<p> +"No," she said at last, "you were not mistaken. I did tell you so." +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" Kingozi turned to her. +</p> + +<p> +"I was very angry, so I lied," she replied naively. "Women always lie when +they get very angry." +</p> + +<p> +"Or tell the truth--uncomfortably," grinned Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +"Brava!" she applauded. "He does know something about women!" With one of +her sudden smooth movements she again raised herself on her elbow. "How +much?" she challenged. +</p> + +<p> +"Enough," he replied enigmatically. +</p> + +<p> +They both laughed. +</p> + +<p> +Across the accustomed night noises came a long rumbling snarl ending +sharply with a snoring gasp. It was succeeded by another on a different +key. The two took up a kind of antiphony, one against the other, now +rising in volume, now dying down to a low grumble, again suddenly bursting +like an explosion. +</p> + +<p> +"The lions have found that rhino," remarked Kingozi indifferently. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment or so they listened to the distant thunders. +</p> + +<p> +"I have not sufficiently thanked you even yet for this afternoon," she +said. "You saved my life--you know that." +</p> + +<p> +"Happened to be there; and let off a rifle." +</p> + +<p> +"I know shooting. It was a wonderful shot at that distance and in those +circumstances." +</p> + +<p> +"Chancy shot. Had good luck," replied Kingozi shortly. +</p> + +<p> +Undeterred by his tone, she persisted. +</p> + +<p> +"But you are said by many to be the best shot in Africa." +</p> + +<p> +He glanced at her. +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed! I think that a mistake. For whom do you take me?" +</p> + +<p> +"You are Culbertson," she told him. She pronounced the name slowly, +syllable by syllable, as though English proper names were difficult to +her. +</p> + +<p> +He laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"Whoever he may be. I am known as Kingozi hereabouts." +</p> + +<p> +"You are not Cul-bert-son?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am anything it pleases you to have me. And who are you?" +</p> + +<p> +She had become the spoiled darling, pouting at him in half-pretended +vexation. +</p> + +<p> +"You are playing with me. For that I shall not tell you who I am." +</p> + +<p> +"It does not matter; I know." +</p> + +<p> +"You know! But how?" +</p> + +<p> +"I know many things." +</p> + +<p> +"What is it then? Tell me!" +</p> + +<p> +He hesitated, smiling at her inscrutably. The flames from the fire were +leaping high now, throwing the lantern-light into eclipse. An <i>askari</i>, +wearing on his head an individual fancy in marabout feathers, leaned on +his musket, his strong bronze face cast into the wistful lines of the +savage countenance in repose. The lions had evidently compounded their +quarrel. Only an occasional rasping cough testified to their presence. But +in the direction of the dead rhinoceros the air was hideous with the +plaints of the waiting hyenas. Their peculiarly weird moans came in +chorus; and every once in a while arose the shrill, prolonged titter that +has earned them the name of "laughing hyena." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bibi-ya-chui</i>," he told her at length. +</p> + +<p> +She considered this, her red lower lip caught between her teeth. +</p> + +<p> +"The Leopard Woman," she repeated, "and it is thus that I am known! You, +Kingozi--the Bearded One; I, Bibi-ya-chui--the Leopard Woman!" She +laughed. "I think I like it," she decided. +</p> + +<p> +"Now we know all about each other," he mocked. +</p> + +<p> +"But no: you have asked many questions, which is your habit, but I have +asked few. What do you do in this strange land? Is it--what-you-call--'spirit of adventure' also?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not I! I am an ivory hunter." +</p> + +<p> +"You expect to find the elephant here?" +</p> + +<p> +"Who knows--or ivory to trade." +</p> + +<p> +"And then you get your ivory and make the magic pass, and presto! it is in +Mombasa," she said, with a faint sarcasm. +</p> + +<p> +"You mean I have not men enough to carry out ivory. Well, that is true. +But you see my habit is to get my ivory first and then to get <i>shenzis</i> +from the people roundabout to act as porters," he explained to her +gravely. +</p> + +<p> +Apparently she hesitated, in two minds as to what next to say. Kingozi +perceived a dancing temptation sternly repressed, and smiled beneath his +beard. +</p> + +<p> +"I see," she said finally in a meek voice. +</p> + +<p> +But Kingozi knew of what she was thinking. "She is a keen one," he +reflected admiringly. "Caught the weak point in that yarn straight off!" +</p> + +<p> +He arose to his feet, knocking the ashes from his pipe. +</p> + +<p> +"You travel to-morrow?" he asked politely. +</p> + +<p> +"That I have not decided." +</p> + +<p> +"This is a dry country," Kingozi suggested blandly. "Of course you will +not risk a blind push with so many men. You will probably send out scouts +to find the next water." +</p> + +<p> +"That is possible," she replied gravely; but Kingozi thought to catch a +twinkle in her eye. +</p> + +<p> +He raised his voice: +</p> + +<p> +"Boy!" +</p> + +<p> +Mali-ya-bwana glided from one of the small porters' tents. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Qua heri</i>." Kingozi abruptly wished her farewell in Swahili. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Qua heri</i>," she replied without moving. +</p> + +<p> +He turned into the darkness. The tropical stars blazed above him like +candles. Kingozi lapsed into half-forgotten slang. +</p> + +<p> +"Downy bird!" he reflected, which was probably not exactly the impression +the Leopard Woman either intended or thought she had made. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="vii">CHAPTER VII</a></h2> + +<h3>THE WATER-HOLE</h3> + +<p> +A seasoned African traveller in ordinary circumstances sleeps very +soundly, his ear attuned only to certain things. So Kingozi hardly stirred +on his cork mattress, although the lions roared full-voiced satisfaction +when they left the rhinoceros, and the yells of the hyenas rose to a +pandemonium when at last they were permitted to join the feast. Likewise +the nearer familiar noises of men rising to their daily tasks at four +o'clock--the yawning, stretching, cracking of firewood, crackling of fire, +low-voiced chatter--did not disturb him. Yet, so strangely is the human +mind organized, had during the night a soft whisper of padded feet, even +the deep breathing of a beast, sounded within the precincts of the camp, +he would instantly have been broad awake, the rifle that stood loaded +nearby clasped in his hand. Thus he lay quietly through the noises of men +working, but came awake at the sound of men marching. He arose on his +elbow and drew aside the flap of his tent. +</p> + +<p> +At the same instant Cazi Moto stopped outside. The usual formula ensued. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Hodie!</i>" called Cazi Moto. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Karibu</i>," replied Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +Thus Cazi Moto at once awakened and greeted his master, and Kingozi +acknowledged. +</p> + +<p> +Cazi Moto entered the tent and lighted the tiny lantern, for it was still +an hour and a half until daylight. +</p> + +<p> +"I hear men marching," said Kingozi. + +Cazi Moto stopped. +</p> + +<p> +"It is the safari of Bibi-ya-chui." Already Kingozi's nickname for her +had been adopted. +</p> + +<p> +Cazi Moto disappeared, and a moment later was heard outside pouring water +into the canvas basin. +</p> + +<p> +Instead of arising immediately, as was his ordinary custom, Kingozi lay +still. The Leopard Woman was already travelling! What could that mean? +She was certainly taking some chances hiking around thus in the dark. +Perhaps some aged or weak lion had not been permitted a share of that +rhinoceros. And again she was taking chances pushing out blindly with +over a hundred men into the aridity of the desert. Kingozi contemplated +this thought for some time. Then, making up his mind, he arose and began +to dress. +</p> + +<p> +As he was drying his face Simba came for the guns, and a half-dozen of the +porters prepared to strike and furl the tent. Already the canvas +washstand had disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +"Simba," observed Kingozi in English, of which language Simba knew but +three words, "she is no fool. She knows where there is water out yonder; +but it is water at least forty miles away. She's got to push and push hard +to make it, and that's why she's making so early a start. I had a notion +this 'country of the great Unknown' wasn't quite so 'unknown' as it might +be." +</p> + +<p> +He finished this speech coincidentally with the drying of his hands. The +impatient Cazi Moto snatched the towel deftly but respectfully and packed +it away. Simba, who had listened with deference until his <i>bwana</i> should +finish this jargon, grinned. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, suh!" he used two of his English words at a bang. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi ate his breakfast by firelight. With the exception of his camp +chair and the eating service, the camp was by now all packed, and the men +were squatting before their fires waiting. + +But there was a hitch. Kingozi called up Simba and began to question him. +</p> + +<p> +"You say the water is four hours' march?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Four hours for you, or four hours for laden men?" +</p> + +<p> +"The safari can go in four hours, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Is there game there?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, <i>bwana</i>. It is a guarded water, and there is no game." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi considered. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well. I want six men. Before the march we must get meat." +</p> + +<p> +Some time since the flames of the African sunrise had spread to the +zenith, glowing and terrible as a furnace. Although the sky was thus +brilliantly illuminated, the earth, strangely enough, was still gray with +twilight. Objects fifty yards distant were indeterminate. Objects +farther away were lost. The light was daylight, but it was inadequate, as +though charged with mist. +</p> + +<p> +And then suddenly the daylight was clear. +</p> + +<p> +It was like the turning on by a switch. The dim shapes defined clearly, +becoming trees, rocks, distant hills. And almost immediately the rim of +the sun showed above the horizon. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi had already decided on the best direction in which to hunt. +Neither the direction taken by the Leopard Woman's safari nor the +immediate surroundings of the night's orgy over the rhino carcass was +desirable. The fact that the big water-hole below camp had not only +remained unvisited, but apparently even desired, led him to deduce the +existence of another, alternative, drinking place. He had yesterday +explored some distance downstream; therefore he now turned up. +</p> + +<p> +Simba with the big rifle followed close at his heels. The six porters +stole along fifty yards in the rear. They were quite as anxious for +meat--promptly--as anybody, and were as unobtrusive as shadows. +</p> + +<p> +For upward of a mile the hunters encountered nothing but a few dik-dik and +steinbuck--tiny grass antelope, too small for the purpose. Then a shift +of wind brought to them a medley of sound--a great persistent barking of +zebras supplying the main volume. At the same time they saw, over a +distant slight rise, a cloud of dust. +</p> + +<p> +Simba's eyes were gleaming. +</p> + +<p> +"Game! Much game there, <i>bwana!</i>" he cried. +</p> + +<p> +"I see," replied Kingozi quietly. +</p> + +<p> +The porters accompanied them to within a few rods of the top of the rise. +There they squatted, and the other two crawled up alone. +</p> + +<p> +Below them, probably three hundred yards away, was a larger replica of the +other water-hole. At its edge and in its shallows stood a few beasts. But +the sun was now well above the horizon, the drinking time was practically +over. +</p> + +<p> +Three long strings of game animals were walking leisurely away in three +different directions. They were proceeding soberly, in single file, nose +to tail. The ranks ran with scarcely a break, to disappear over the low +swells of the plain. Alongside the plodders skipped and ran, rushed back +and forth the younger, frivolous characters, kicking up their heels, +biting at one another, or lowering their horns in short mimic charges--gay, animated flankers to the main army. There were several sorts, each +in its little companies or bands, many times repeated, of from two or +three to several score; although occasionally strange assortments and +companionships were to be seen, as a black, shaggy-looking wildebeeste +with a troop of kongoni. Kingozi saw, besides these two, also the bigger +and smaller gazelles, many zebra, topi, the lordly eland; and, apart, a +dozen giraffes, two rhinoceros, and some warthogs. There were probably two +thousand wild animals in sight. +</p> + +<p> +The hunters lay flat, watching. This multiplicity afforded them a +wonderful spectacle, but that was about all. If they should crawl three +yards farther they would indubitably be espied by some one. It was +impossible to single out a beast as the object of a stalk: all the others +must be considered, too. There was no cover. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi was too old at the business to hurry. He considered the elements +of his problem soberly before coming back to his first and most obvious +conclusion. Then he raised himself slowly to his favourite sitting +position and threw off the safety. +</p> + +<p> +The distance was a fair three hundred yards, which is a long shot--when it +<i>is</i> three hundred yards. The fireside and sporting magazine hunters of +big game are constantly hitting 'em through the heart at even greater +distances--estimated. It is actually a fact, proven many times, that those +estimates should be divided by two in order to get near the measured +truth! The "four hundred yards if it's an inch!" becomes two hundred--and +even two hundred yards at living game in natural surroundings is a long +and creditable shot. +</p> + +<p> +In taking his aim Kingozi modified his usual custom because of the +distance. When one can get his beast broadside on, the most immediately +fatal shot is one high in the shoulder, about three-quarters of the way +up. That drops an animal dead in his tracks. The next best is a bullet +low in the shoulder. Third is a really accurate heart shot. This latter +is always fatal, of course; but ordinarily the quarry will run at racing +speed for some little distance before falling dead. In certain types of +country this means considerable tracking, may even mean the loss of the +animal. Next comes anywhere in the barrel forward of the short ribs--a +chancy proceeding, and one leading to long chases. After that the +likelihood of a cripple is too great. +</p> + +<p> +Now it is evident that one must aim at what he can be sure of hitting. +The high shoulder shot is all right if the distance is so short that one +can be absolutely certain of placing his bullet within a six-inch circle. +Otherwise the chance of over-shooting--always great--becomes prohibitive. +The low shoulder shot increases the circle to from eight to twelve inches, +with the chance outside that of merely breaking a foreleg, grazing +brisket, or missing entirely under the neck. The heart shot--or rather an +attempt at it--is safer for a longer range, not because the mark is +larger, but because even if one misses the heart, he is apt to land either +the shoulder or the ribs well forward. The only miss is beneath, and that +is clear, as the heart is low in the body. And at extreme ranges, the +forward one-third of the barrel is the point of aim. It should only +rarely be attempted. Unless a man is certain he can hit that mark, <i>every +time</i>, he is not justified in taking the shot. +</p> + +<p> +This principle applies to every one: as well to the beginner as to the +expert. The only difference between the two is the range at which this +certainty exists. The tyro's limit of absolute certainty for the heart +shot may be--and probably is--a hundred yards; for the high shoulder it +may be as near as thirty. This takes into consideration his inexperience +in the presence of game as well as his inaccuracy with the rifle, and it +keeps in mind that he must hit that mark not merely nine times out of ten, +but <i>every time</i>. If he cannot get within the hundred yards by stalking, +then he should refuse the chance. As expertness rises in the scale the +distances increase. Provided there were no such things as nerves, luck, +faulty judgment, and the estimate of distances one man should be as +mercifully deadly as another. Naturally the man who had to stalk to within +a hundred yards would not get as many shots as the one who could take his +chance at two hundred. This conduct of venery is an ideal that is only +approximated. Hence misses. +</p> + +<p> +But even if a man lives rigorously up to his principles and knowledge, +there are other elements that bring in uncertainty. For one thing, he must +be able to estimate distance with some degree of accuracy. It avails +little to know that you can hit a given mark at two hundred and fifty +yards, if you do not know what two hundred and fifty yards is. And here +enter a thousand deceits: direction of light, slope of ground, nature of +cover, temperature, mirage, time of day, and the like. An apparent hundred +yards over water or across a cañon would--were, by some dissolving-view-change, bush-dotted plain to be substituted--become nearer three hundred +in the latter circumstances. There is a limit to the best man's +experience; a margin of error in the best man's judgment. Hence more +misses. +</p> + +<p> +There is only one method for any man to acquire even this proximate skill; +and that requires long and patient practice. It is this: he should sight +over his rifle at a wild animal, noting carefully the apparent relative +size of the front sight-bead and the animal's body. He should then pace +the distance between himself and that animal. After he has done this a +hundred times, he will be able to make a pretty close guess by marking how +large the beast shows up through the sights. That is, for that one species +of game! In Central Africa, where in a well-stocked district there are +from twenty to thirty species, the practice becomes more onerous. This +same practice--of pacing the distances--however, has also trained a man's +eye for country. He is able to supplement the front-sight method by the +usual estimate by eye. Most men do not take this trouble. They practise at +target range until they can hit the bull's-eye with fair regularity, miss +with nearly equal regularity in the hunting field, and thenceforth talk +vaguely of "missed him at five hundred yards." It must have been five +hundred. The beast looked very small, there was an awful lot of country +between him and it, and "I wasn't a bit rattled--cool as a cucumber--and I +<i>know</i> I never miss an object of that size at any reasonable range." He +was right: he shot as deliberately as he ever did at the butts. He missed, +not because of the distance, but because he did not know the distance. It +was exactly the range at which he had done the most of his practice--two +hundred yards! +</p> + +<p> +All these considerations have taken several pages to tell. Kingozi weighed +each one of them. Yet so long had been his experience, so habitual had +become his reactions, that his decision was made almost instantly. A +glance at the intervening ground, another through his sights. The top of +the bead covered half a zebra's shoulder. The distance was not far under +or over three hundred. Kingozi knew that, barring sheer accident, he could +hit his mark at that distance. +</p> + +<p> +The animals meantime were moving forward slowly along the three diverging +trails. The last of them had left the water-hole. Kingozi nodded to Simba. +Simba, understanding from long association just what was required of him, +rose slowly and evenly to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +The apparition of this strange figure on the skyline brought a score of +animals to a stand. They turned their heads, staring intently, making up +their minds, their nostrils wide. Kingozi, who had already picked his +beast and partially assured his aim, almost immediately squeezed the +trigger. +</p> + +<p> +Over a second after the flat crack of the rifle a hollow <i>plunk</i> indicated +that the bullet had told. It was a strange sound, unmistakable to one who +has once heard it, much as though one brought a drinking glass smartly, +hollow down, into the surface of water. +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a name="illusp066.jpg"></a> +<a href="images/illusp066.jpg"><img src="images/illusp066_th.jpg" alt="After the flat crack of the rifle a hollow <i>plunk</i> indicated that the bullet had told"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"Hah!" ejaculated Simba. +</p> + +<p> +"Where?" asked Kingozi, who knew by long experience that Simba's sharp +eyes had noted the smallest particular of the beast's behaviour when the +bullet landed, and thence had already deduced its location. +</p> + +<p> +Without removing his eyes, Simba indicated with his forefinger a shot +about midway of the ribs. +</p> + +<p> +At the sound the rear guard of the animals raced madly away for about +seventy yards, whirled in a phalanx, and gazed back. Neither man moved. +Simba continued to stare, and Kingozi had lifted his prism glasses. A tyro +would have attempted to draw near for a finishing shot, and so would +probably have been let in for a long chase. A freshly wounded animal, if +kept moving, is capable of astonishing endurance. But these two knew +better than that. In a very few minutes the zebra, without fright, without +suffering--for a modern bullet benumbs--toppled over dead. Again Simba +raised his voice exultantly to the waiting porters. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Nyama! nyama!</i>" he shouted. +</p> + +<p> +And they, racing eagerly forward, their faces illuminated with one of the +strongest joys the native knows, shouted back: +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Nyama! nyama!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +For another two days the provisioning was assured. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="viii">CHAPTER VIII</a></h2> + +<h3>THE THIRST</h3> + +<p> +The little safari made the distance to Simba's guarded water in a trifle +over the four hours. Camp was made high up on the kopje whence the eye +could carry to immense distances. The wall of mountains was now nearer. +Through his glasses Kingozi could distinguish rounded foothills. He tried +to make out whether certain dark patches were groves or patches of bush--they might have been either--but was unable to determine. Relative sizes +did not exist. The mountains might be five thousand feet tall or only a +fifth of that. And by exactly that proportion they might be a day's or a +five days' journey distant! +</p> + +<p> +Carefully Kingozi examined the length of the range. At length his +attention was arrested. A thread of smoke, barely distinguishable against +the gray of distance, rose within the shadow of the hills. +</p> + +<p> +"Simba!" Kingozi summoned. Then, on the gun bearer's approach: "Look +through the glasses and tell me whether that smoke is a house or a fire in +the grass." +</p> + +<p> +Simba accepted the glasses, but first took a good look with the naked eye. +He caught the location of the smoke almost at once. Then for a full two +minutes he stared through the lenses. +</p> + +<p> +"It is a house, <i>bwana</i>," he decided. +</p> + +<p> +As though the words had been a magic spell the mountains seemed in +Kingozi's imagination to diminish in size and to move forward. They had +assured a definite proportion, a definite position. Their distance could +be estimated. +</p> + +<p> +"And how far?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Very far, <i>bwana</i>," replied Simba gravely, "eleven hours; twelve hours." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi reflected. The safari of the Leopard Woman had passed the kopje +not over a mile away; indeed Kingozi had left her trail only a short +distance back. On the supposition that she was well informed, it seemed +unlikely that she could expect to make the whole distance from the last +camp to the mountains in one march. Therefore there must be another water +between. In that case, if Kingozi followed her tracks, he would arrive at +that water. On the other supposition--that she was striking recklessly +into the unknown--well, all the more reason for following her tracks! +</p> + +<p> +They commenced their journey before daylight the following morning. Each +man was instructed to fill his water bottle; and the instructions were +rigidly enforced. In the darkness they stumbled down the gentle slopes of +the kopjes, each steering by the man ahead, and Kingozi steering by the +stars. The veldt was still, as though all the silences, driven from those +portions inhabited by the beasts, had here made their refuge. The earth +lay like a black pool becalmed. Overhead the stars blazed clearly, slowly +faded, and gave way to the dawn. The men spoke rarely, and then in low +voices. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi led the way steadily, without hurrying, but without loitering. +Daylight came: the sun blazed. The country remained the same in character. +Behind them the kopje dwindled in importance until it took its place with +insignificant landmarks. The mountains ahead seemed no nearer. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of three hours, by the watch Kingozi carried on his wrist, he +called the first halt. The men laid down their loads, and sprawled about +in abandon. Kingozi produced a pipe. +</p> + +<p> +The rest lasted a full half hour. Then two hours more of marching, and +another rest. By now a normal day's march would be about over. But this +was different. Kingozi rigidly adhered to the plan for all forced marches +of this kind: three hours, a half-hour's rest; then two hours, a half-hour's rest; and after that march and rest as the men can stand it, +according to their strength and condition. +</p> + +<p> +This latter is the cruel period. At first the ranks hold together. Then, +in spite of the efforts of the headman to bring up the rear, the weaker +begin to fall back. They must rest oftener, they go on with ever-increasing difficulty. The strong men ahead become impatient and push on. +The safari is no longer a coherent organization, but an aggregate of +units, each with his own problem of weariness, of thirst, finally of +suffering. More and more stretches the distance between the <i>bwana</i> and +his headman. +</p> + +<p> +No native of the porter intelligence has the slightest forethought for the +morrow, and very little for the day. If it is hot and he has started +early, his water bottle is empty by noon. +</p> + +<p> +This wise program Kingozi entered upon carefully. The three hours' march +went well; the two hours followed with every one strong and cheerful; then +two hours more without trouble. Kingozi's men were picked, and hard as +nails. By now it was one o'clock; coming the hottest part of the day. The +power of the vertical sun attained its maximum. Kingozi felt as though a +heavy hand had been laid upon his head and was pressing him down. The +mirage danced and changed, its illusions succeeding one another momently +as the successive veils of heat waves shimmered upward. Reflected heat +scorched his face. His spirit retired far into its fastness, taking with +it all his energies. From that withdrawn inner remoteness he doled out the +necessary vitality parsimoniously, drop by drop. Deliberately he withdrew +his attention from the unessentials. Not a glance did he vouchsafe to the +prospect far or near; not a thought did he permit himself of speculation +or of wandering interest. His sole job now was to plod on at an even gait, +to keep track of time, to follow the spoor of the Leopard Woman's safari, +to save himself for later. If he had spared any thought at all, it would +have been self-congratulation that Simba and Cazi Moto were old and tried. +For Simba relieved him of the necessity of watching for dangerous beasts, +and Cazi Moto of the responsibility of keeping account of the men. +</p> + +<p> +At the rest periods Kingozi sat down on the ground. Then in the relaxation +his intelligence emerged. He took stock of the situation. +</p> + +<p> +Mali-ya-bwana and nine others were always directly at his heels. They +dropped their loads and grinned cheerfully at their <i>bwana</i>, their bronze +faces gleaming as though polished. If only they were all like this! Then +perhaps five minutes later a smaller group came in, strongly enough. The +first squad shouted ridiculing little jokes at them; and they shrieked +back spirited repartee, whacking their loads vigorously with their safari +sticks. These, too, would cause no anxiety. But then Kingozi sat up and +began to take notice. The men drifted in by twos and threes. Kingozi +scrutinized them closely, trying to determine the state of their strength +and the state of their spirit. And after twenty minutes, or even the full +half hour allotted to the rest period, Cazi Moto came in driving before +him seven men. + +The wizened little headman was as cheerful and lively and vigorous as +ever. He, too, grinned, but his eyes held a faint anxiety, and he had +shifted his closed umbrella to his left hand and held the <i>kiboko</i> in his +right. At the fifth rest period five of the seven men stumbled wearily in; +but Cazi Moto and the other two did not appear before Kingozi ordered a +resumption of the march. +</p> + +<p> +But the mountains had moved near. When this had happened Kingozi could not +have told. It was between two rest periods. From an immense discouraging +distance, they towered imminent. It seemed that a half-hour's easy walk +should take them to the foothills. Yet not a man there but knew that this +nearness was exactly as deceitful as the distance had been before. +</p> + +<p> +The afternoon wore on. Kingozi's canteen was all but empty, though he had +drunk sparingly, a swallow at a time. His tongue was slightly swollen. The +sun had him to a certain extent; so that, although he could rouse himself +at will, nevertheless, he moved mechanically in a sort of daze. +</p> + +<p> +He heard Simba's voice; and brought himself into focus. +</p> + +<p> +The gun bearer was staring at something on the ground. Kingozi followed +the direction of his gaze. Before him lay a dead man. +</p> + +<p> +It was one of the common porters--a tall, too slender savage, with armlets +of polished iron, long, ropy hair--a typical <i>shenzi</i>. His load was +missing: evidently one of the <i>askaris</i> had taken it up. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi's safari filed by, each man gazing in turn without expression at +the huddled heap. Only Maulo, the camp jester, hurled a facetious comment +at the corpse. Thereupon all the rest laughed after the strange, heartless +custom of the African native. Or is it heartless? We do not know. +</p> + +<p> +The day's march had passed through the phase of coordinated action. It was +now the duty of each man to get in if he could. It was Kingozi's duty to +arrive first, and to arrange succour for Cazi Moto and those whom he +drove. +</p> + +<p> +Twenty minutes beyond the dead man they came upon three porters sitting by +the wayside. They were men in the last extremity of thirst and exhaustion, +their eyes wide and vacant, their tongues so swollen that their teeth were +held apart. Nothing was to be done here, so Kingozi marched by. +</p> + +<p> +Then he came upon a half-dozen bags of <i>potio</i>. They were thrown down +pellmell, anyhow; so that Kingozi concluded they had been surreptitiously +thrown away, and not temporarily abandoned with intent to return for them. +</p> + +<p> +After that the trail resembled the traces of a rout. Every few yards now +were the evidences of desperation: loads of <i>potio</i>, garments, water +bottles emptied and cast aside in a gust of passion at their emptiness. At +intervals also they passed more men, gaunt, incredibly cadaverous, +considering that only the day before they had been strong and well. They +sat or lay inert, watching the safari pass, their eyes apathetic. Kingozi +paid no attention to them, nor to the loads of <i>potio</i>, nor to the +garments and accoutrements; but he caused Simba to gather the water +bottles. After a time Simba was hung about on all sides, and resembled at +a short distance some queer conical monster. +</p> + +<p> +Then they topped the bank of a wide shallow dry streambed and saw the +remnants of other safari below them. +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman sat on a tent load. Even at this distance her erect +figure expressed determination and defiance. The Nubian squatted beside +her. Men lay scattered all about in attitudes of abandon and exhaustion; +yet every face was turned in her direction. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi descended the bank and approached, his experienced eye registering +every significant detail. +</p> + +<p> +She turned to him a face lowering like a thundercloud, her eyes flashing +the lightnings, her lips scarlet and bitten. Kingozi noted the bloodied +<i>kiboko</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"They won't go on!" she cried at him harshly. "I can't make them! It is +death for them here, but all they will do is to sit down! It is maddening! +If they must die----" +</p> + +<p> +She leaped to her feet and drew an automatic pistol. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bandika!</i>" she cried. "Take your loads! Quickly!" +</p> + +<p> +She threatened the man nearest her. He merely stared, his expression dull +with the infinite remoteness of savage people. Without further parley she +fired. Although the distance was short, she missed, the bullet throwing up +a spurt of sand beneath the man's armpit. He did not stir, nor did his +face change. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi's bent form had straightened. An authority, heretofore latent, +flashed from his whole personality. +</p> + +<p> +"Stop!" he commanded. +</p> + +<p> +She turned toward him a look of convulsed rage. Then suddenly her +resistance to circumstances broke. She hurled the automatic pistol at the +porter, and flopped down on the tent load, hiding her face in her hands. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi paid her no further attention. +</p> + +<p> +"Simba!" he called. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, suh!" +</p> + +<p> +"Take one man. Collect all water bottles. Take a lantern. Go as rapidly +as you can to find water. Fill all the bottles and bring them back. +There are people in the hills. There will be people near the water. Get +them to help you carry back the water bottles." +</p> + +<p> +Simba selected Mali-ya-bwana to accompany him, but this did not meet +Kingozi's ideas. +</p> + +<p> +"I want that man," said he. +</p> + +<p> +Simba and one of the other leading porters started away. Kingozi gave his +attention to the members of the other safari. +</p> + +<p> +They sat and sprawled in all attitudes. But one thing was common to all: +a dead sullenness. +</p> + +<p> +"Why do you not obey the <i>memsahib?</i>" Kingozi asked in a reasonable tone. +</p> + +<p> +No one answered for some time. Finally the man who had been shot at +replied. +</p> + +<p> +"There is no water. We are very tired. We cannot go on without water." +</p> + +<p> +"How can you get water if you do not go on?" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Hapana shauri yangu</i>," replied the man indifferently, uttering the +fatalistic phrase that rises to the lips of the savage African almost +automatically, unless his personal loyalty has been won--"that is not my +affair." He brooded on the ground for a space then looked up. "It is the +business of porters to carry loads; it is the business of the white man to +take care of the porters." And in that he voiced the philosophy of this +human relation. The porters had done their job: not one inch beyond it +would they go. The white woman had brought them here: it was now her +<i>shauri</i> to get them out. +</p> + +<p> +"You see!" cried the Leopard Woman bitterly. "What can you do with such +idiots!" +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi directed toward her his slow smile. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I see. Do you remember I asked you once when you were boasting your +efficiency, whether you had ever tried your men? Your work was done +smartly and well--better than my work was done. But my men will help me in +a fix, and yours will not." +</p> + +<p> +"You are quite a preacher," she rejoined. "And you are exasperating. Why +don't you do something?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am going to," replied Kingozi calmly. +</p> + +<p> +He called Mali-ya-bwana to him. +</p> + +<p> +"Talk to these <i>shenzis</i>," said he. +</p> + +<p> +Mali-ya-bwana talked. His speech was not eloquent, nor did it flatter the +Leopard Woman, but it was to the point. +</p> + +<p> +"My <i>bwana</i> is a great lord," said he. "He is master of all things. He +fights the lion, he fights the elephant. Nothing causes him to be afraid. +He is not foolish, like a woman. He knows the water, the sun, the wind. +When he speaks it is wisdom. Those who do what he says follow wisdom. +<i>Bassi!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +Immediately this admonition was finished Kingozi issued his first command: +</p> + +<p> +"Bring all loads to this place." +</p> + +<p> +Nobody stirred at first. +</p> + +<p> +"My loads, the loads of Bibi-ya-chui--all to this place." +</p> + +<p> +Mali-ya-bwana and the other fourteen of Kingozi's safari who were now +present brought their loads up and began to pile them under Kingozi's +direction. +</p> + +<p> +"Quickly!" called Kingozi in brisk, cheerful tones. "The water is not far, +but the day is nearly gone. We must march quickly, even without loads." +</p> + +<p> +The import of the command began to reach the other porters. This white man +did not intend to camp here then--where there was no water! He did not +mean to make them march with loads! He knew! He was a great lord, and +wise, as Mali-ya-bwana had said! One or two arose wearily and stiffly, and +dragged their loads to the pile. Others followed. Kingozi's men helped the +weakest. Kingozi himself worked hard, arranging the loads, covering them +with tarpaulins, weighting the edges. +</p> + +<p> +His intention reached also the Leopard Woman. She watched proceedings +without comment for some time. Then she saw something that raised her +objection. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall want that box," she announced. "Leave that one out. And that is +my tent being brought up now." +</p> + +<p> +Apparently Kingozi did not hear her. He bestowed the box in a space left +for it, and piled the two tent loads atop. The Leopard Woman arose and +glided to his side. +</p> + +<p> +"That box----" she began. +</p> + +<p> +"I heard you," replied Kingozi politely, "but it will really be impossible +to carry anything at all." +</p> + +<p> +"That box is indispensable to me," she insisted haughtily. +</p> + +<p> +"You have no men strong enough to carry a load: and mine will need all the +strength they have left before they get in." +</p> + +<p> +He went on arranging the loads under the tarpaulins. +</p> + +<p> +"Those loads are my tent," she said, as Kingozi turned away. +</p> + +<p> +"We cannot take them." +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes flashed. She whirled with the evident intention of issuing her +commands direct. Kingozi's weary, slow indifference fell from him. In one +bound he faced her, his chin thrust forward. His blue eyes had focussed +into a cold, level stare. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't dare interfere!" he ordered. "If you attempt it, I shall order you +restrained--physically. Understand? I do not know how far you intend to +travel--or where; but if you value your future authority and prestige with +your own men, do not make yourself a spectacle before them." +</p> + +<p> +"You would not dare!" she panted. +</p> + +<p> +The tenseness relaxed. Kingozi became again the slow-moving, slouching, +indifferent figure of his everyday habit. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I can dare almost anything--when I have to. You do not seem to +understand. You have come a cropper--a bad one. Left to yourselves you are +all going to die here. If I am to help you to your feet, I must do it +without interference. I think we shall get through: but I am not at all +certain. Go and sit down and save your strength." +</p> + +<p> +"I hate you!" she flashed. "I'd rather die here than accept your help! I +command you to leave me!" +</p> + +<p> +"Bless you!" said Kingozi, as though this were a new thought. "I wasn't +thinking especially of <i>you</i>; I am sorry for your boys." +</p> + +<p> +Mali-ya-bwana, under his directions, had undone the loads containing the +lanterns. Everything seemed now ready for the start. All of Kingozi's +safari had arrived except Cazi Moto and five men. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you any water left?" Kingozi asked the Leopard Woman. +</p> + +<p> +She stared straight ahead of her, refusing to answer. Unperturbed, Kingozi +turned to the Nubian. +</p> + +<p> +"Which is <i>memsahib's</i> canteen?" +</p> + +<p> +The Nubian silently indicated two of the three hung on his person. Kingozi +shook them, and found them empty. His own contained still about a pint, +and this he poured into one of hers. She appeared not to notice the act. +</p> + +<p> +The march was resumed. Mali-ya-bwana was instructed to lead the way +following the scraped places on the earth, the twigs bent over, and the +broken branches by which Simba had marked his route for them. Kingozi +himself brought up the rear. Reluctantly, apathetically, the Leopard +Woman's men got to their feet. Kingozi was everywhere, urging, +encouraging, shaming, joking, threatening, occasionally using the <i>kiboko</i> +he had taken from one of the <i>askaris</i>. At last all were under way. The +Leopard Woman sat still on the load, the Nubian crouched at her back. The +long, straggling, staggering file of men crawled up the dry bank and +disappeared one by one over the top. Each figure for a moment was +silhouetted against the sky, for the sun was low. Kingozi toiled up the +steep, his head bent forward. In his turn he, too, stood black and massive +on the brink, the outline of his powerful stooped shoulders gold-rimmed in +light. She watched him feverishly, awaiting from him some sign that he +realized her existence, that he cared whether or not she was left behind. +He did not look back. In a moment he had disappeared. The prospect was +empty of human life. +</p> + +<p> +She arose. For an instant her face was convulsed with a fairly demoniac +fury. Then a mask of blankness obliterated all expression. She followed. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="ix">CHAPTER IX</a></h2> + +<h3>ON THE PLATEAU</h3> + +<p> +Two hours into the night Kingozi, following in the rear, saw a cluster of +lights, and shortly came to a compact group of those who had gone before +him. They were drinking eagerly from water bottles. Simba, lantern in +hand, stood nearby. A number of savages carrying crude torches hovered +around the outskirts. Kingozi could not make out the details of their +appearance: only their eyeballs shining. He drew Simba to one side. +</p> + +<p> +"There are many <i>shenzis</i>?" +</p> + +<p> +"Many, like the leaves of the grass, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"The huts are far?" +</p> + +<p> +"One hour, <i>bwana</i>, in the hills." +</p> + +<p> +"These <i>shenzis</i> are good?"--meaning friendly. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bwana</i>, the <i>sultani</i> of these people is a great lord. He has many +people, and much riches. He has told, his people to come with me. He +prepares the guest house for you." +</p> + +<p> +"Tired, Simba?" +</p> + +<p> +"It has been a long path since sunup, <i>bwana</i>. But I had water, and the +people gave me <i>potio</i> and meat. I am strong." +</p> + +<p> +"Cazi Moto is back there--in the Thirst," suggested Kingozi, "and many +others. And there is no water." +</p> + +<p> +"I will go, <i>bwana</i>, and take the <i>shenzis</i> with me." +</p> + +<p> +He set about gathering the water bottles and gourds that had not been +emptied. Mali-ya-bwana and, unexpectedly, a big Kavirondo of Kingozi's +safari, volunteered. The rest prepared to continue the journey. +</p> + +<p> +But another delay occurred. The Leopard Woman, who had walked indomitably, +now collapsed. Her eyes were sunken in her head, her lips had paled; only +the long white oval of her face recalled her former splendid and exotic +beauty. When the signal to proceed was given, she stepped forward as +firmly as ever for perhaps a dozen paces, then her knees crumpled under +her. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid I'm done," she muttered to Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +In the latter's eyes, for the first time, shone a real and ungrudging +admiration. He knelt at her side and felt her pulse. Without hesitation, +and in the most matter-of-fact way, he unbuttoned her blouse to the waist +and tore apart the thin chemise beneath. +</p> + +<p> +"Water," he commanded. +</p> + +<p> +With the wetted end of his neck scarf he beat her vigorously below the +left breast. After a little she opened her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"That's better," said Kingozi, and began clumsily to rebutton her blouse. +</p> + +<p> +A slow colour rose to her face as she realized in what manner she had been +exposed, and she snatched her garments together. Kingozi, watching her +closely, seemed to see in this only a satisfactory symptom. +</p> + +<p> +"That's right; now you're about again. Blood going once more." +</p> + +<p> +They proceeded. A man on either side supported the Leopard Woman's steps. +</p> + +<p> +Shortly the hills closed around them. The dark velvet masses compassed +them about, and the starry sky seemed suddenly to have been thrust upward +a million miles. The open plain narrowed to a track along which they +groped single file. They caught the sound of running water to their left; +but far below. There seemed no end to it. +</p> + +<p> +But then, unexpectedly, they found themselves on a plateau, with the mass +of the mountains on one side and the sea of night on the other, as though +it might be the spacious deck of a ship. A multitude of people swarmed +about them, shining naked people, who stared; and there seemed to be huts +with conical roofs, and a number of little winking fires that shifted +position. The people led the way to a circular hut of good size, with a +conical thatched roof and wattle walls. Kingozi stooped his head, +thrusting the lantern inside. The interior had been swept. A huge earthen +tub full of water stood by the door. The place contained no other +furnishings. +</p> + +<p> +"Bring the <i>memsahib</i> here," he commanded. +</p> + +<p> +She was half dragged forward. Kingozi took her in his arms to prevent her +falling. +</p> + +<p> +"Bring grass," he ordered. +</p> + +<p> +The request was repeated outside in Swahili, and turned into a strange +tongue. Kingozi heard many feet hurrying away. +</p> + +<p> +He stood supporting the half-fainting form of the Leopard Woman. Her head +rested against his shoulder. Her eyes were closed, her muscles had all +gone slack, so that her body felt soft and warm. Kingozi, waiting, +remembered her as she had looked the evening of his call--silk-clad, +lithe, proud, with blood-red lips, and haughty, fathomless eyes, and the +single jewel that hung in the middle of her forehead. Somehow at this +moment she seemed smaller, in her safari costume, and helpless, and +pathetic. He felt the curve of her breast against him, and the picture of +her as he had seen her out there in the Thirst arose before his eyes. At +that time it had not registered: he was too busy about serious things. But +now, while he waited, the incident claimed, belated, his senses. His +antagonism, or distrust, or coldness, or suspicion, or indifference, or +whatever had hardened him, disappeared. He stared straight before him at +the lantern, allowing these thoughts and sensations to drift through him. +Subconsciously he noted that the lamp flame showed a halo, or rather two +halos, one red and one green. By experience he knew that this portended +one of his stabbing headaches through the eyes. But the thought did not +hold him. He contemplated unwaveringly the spectacle of this soft, warm, +helpless but indomitable piece of femininity fronting the African wilderness +unafraid. Unconsciously his arms tightened around her, drawing her to him. +She gave no sign. Her form was limp. Apparently she was either half asleep +or in a stupor. But had Kingozi looked down when he tightened his arms, +instead of staring at the halo-encircled lantern, he would have seen her +glance sidewise upward into his face, he would have discerned a fleeting +smile upon her lips. +</p> + +<p> +Almost immediately the people were back with armfuls of the long grass +that grows on the edge of mountainous country. Under Kingozi's directions +they heaped it at one side. He assisted the Leopard Woman to this +improvised couch and laid her upon it. She seemed to drop instantly +asleep. +</p> + +<p> +They brought more grass and piled it in another place. Mali-ya-bwana +superintended these activities zealously. He had drunk his fill, had +bolted a chunk of goat's flesh one of the savages had handed him, now he +was ready to fulfil his <i>bwana's</i> commands. +</p> + +<p> +"You will eat?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +But Kingozi was not hungry. His strong desire was for a tall <i>balauri</i> of +hot tea, but this could not be. He knew it Was unsafe to drink the water +unboiled--it is unsafe to drink any African water unboiled--but this time +it could not be helped. He was not even very tired, though his eyes +burned. There was nothing more to do. Kingozi knew that Simba and Cazi +Moto would not attempt to come in. +</p> + +<p> +They now had both food and water, and would camp somewhere out on the +plain. +</p> + +<p> +"I will sleep," he decided. +</p> + +<p> +Mali-ya-bwana at once thrust the savages outside, without ceremony, +peremptorily. When the <i>bwana</i> of an African belonging to the safari class +wants anything, the latter gets it for him. The headman of the author of +these lines went single handed and stopped in its very inception a royal +<i>n'goma</i>, or dance, to which men had come a day's journey, merely because +his <i>bwana</i> wanted to sleep! Kingozi was here alone, in a strange country, +for the moment helpless; but Mali-ya-bwana hustled the tribesmen out as +brusquely as though a regiment were at his back. Which undoubtedly had its +effect. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi sat down on the straw and blew out his lantern. The wattle walls +were not chinked; so the sweet night wind blew through freely; and +elusively he saw stars against the night. The Leopard Woman breathed +heavily in little sighs. He was not sleepy. Then everything went black---- +</p> + +<p> + +When Kingozi awakened it was full daylight. A varied murmur came happily +from outside, what the Africans call a <i>kalele</i>--a compound of chatter, +the noise of occupation, of movement, the inarticulate voice of human +existence. He glanced across the hut. The Leopard Woman was gone. +</p> + +<p> +"Boy!" he shouted. +</p> + +<p> +At the sound of his voice the <i>kalele</i> ceased. Almost immediately Cazi +Moto stooped to enter the doorway. Cazi Moto was dressed in clean khaki, +and bore in his hand a <i>balauri</i> of steaming tea. Kingozi seized this and +drained it to the bottom. +</p> + +<p> +"That is good," he commented gratefully. "I did not expect to see you, +Cazi Moto. Did all the men get in?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Vema!</i> And the men of the Leopard Woman?" +</p> + +<p> +"Many died, <i>bwana</i>; but many are here." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi arose to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +"I must have food. These <i>shenzis</i> eat what?" +</p> + +<p> +"Food is ready, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"I will eat. Then we must make <i>shauri</i> with these people to get our +loads. My men must rest to-day." +</p> + +<p> +"Come, <i>bwana</i>," said Cazi Moto. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi stooped to pass through the door. When he straightened outside, he +paused in amazement. Before him stood his camp, intact. The green tent +with the fly faced him, the flaps thrown back to show within his cot and +tin box. White porters' tents had been pitched in the usual circle, and +before each squatted men cooking over little fires. The loads, covered by +the tarpaulin, had been arranged in the centre of the circle. At a short +distance to the rear the cook camp steamed. +</p> + +<p> +Cazi Moto stood at his elbow grinning. +</p> + +<p> +"Hot water ready, <i>bwana</i>," said he; and for the first time Kingozi +noticed that he carried a towel over his arm. +</p> + +<p> +"This is good, very good, Cazi Moto!" said he. "<i>Backsheeshi m'kubwa</i> for +this; both for you and for Simba." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, <i>bwana</i>," said Gaza Moto. "Simba brought the water, and it +saved us; and I thought that my <i>bwana</i> should not sleep on grass a second +time before these <i>shenzis</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Who carried in the loads? Not our porters?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, <i>bwana</i>, the <i>shenzis</i>." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi glanced at his wrist watch. It was only ten o'clock. "When?" +</p> + +<p> +"Last night." +</p> + +<p> +"They went back last night?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>. Mali-ya-bwana considered that it was bad to leave the +loads. There might be hyenas--or the <i>shenzis</i>----" +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi slapped his thigh with satisfaction. This was a man after his own +heart. +</p> + +<p> +"Call Mali-ya-bwana," he ordered. +</p> + +<p> +The tall Baganda approached. +</p> + +<p> +"Mali-ya-bwana," said Kingozi. "You have done well. For this you shall +have <i>backsheeshi</i>. But more. You need not again carry a load. You will +be--" he hesitated, trying to invent an office, but reluctant to infringe +upon the prerogatives of either Simba or Cazi Moto. "You will be headman +of the porters; and you, Cazi Moto, will be headman of all the safari, and +my own man besides." +</p> + +<p> +The Baganda drew himself erect, his face shining. Placing his bare heels +together, he raised his hand in a military salute. Kingozi was about to +dismiss him, but this arrested his intention. +</p> + +<p> +"Where did you learn to do that?" he asked sharply. +</p> + +<p> +"I was once in the King's African Rifles."[<a href="#7">7</a>] +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="7">7</a>: Only, of course, Mali-ya-bwana gave the native name for these +troops.] +</p> + +<p> +"You can shoot, then?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Good!" commented Kingozi thoughtfully. Then after a moment: "<i>Bassi</i>." +</p> + +<p> +Mali-ya-bwana saluted once more and departed. Kingozi turned toward his +tent. +</p> + +<p> +It had been pitched under a huge tree, with low, massive limbs and a shade +that covered a diameter of fully sixty yards. Before it the usual table +had been made of piled-up chop boxes, and to this Cazi Moto was bearing +steaming dishes. The threatened headache had not materialized, and Kingozi +was feeling quite fit. He was ravenously hungry, for now his system was +rested enough to assimilate food. His last meal had been breakfast before +sunup of the day before. Without paying even casual attention to his +surroundings he seated himself on a third chop box and began to eat. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi's methods of eating had in them little of the epicure. He simply +ate all he wanted of the first things set before him. After this he drank +all he wanted from the tall <i>balauri</i>. Second courses did not exist for +Kingozi. Then with a sigh of satisfaction, he fumbled for his pipe and +tobacco, and looked about him. +</p> + +<p> +The guest house had been built, as was the custom, a little apart from the +main village. The latter was evidently around the bend of the hill, for +only three or four huts were to be seen, perched among the huge +outcropping boulders that were, apparently, characteristic of these hills. +The mountains rose rather abruptly, just beyond the plateau; which, in +turn, fell away almost as abruptly to the sweep of the plains. The bench +was of considerable width--probably a mile at this point. It was not +entirely level; but on the other hand not particularly broken. A number of +fine, symmetrical trees of unknown species grew at wide intervals, +overtopping a tangle of hedges, rank bushes, vines, and shrubs that +appeared to constitute a rough sort of boundary between irregular fields. +A tiny swift stream of water hurried by between the straight banks of an +obviously artificial ditch. +</p> + +<p> +But though the village was hidden from view, its inhabitants were not. +They had invaded the camp. Kingozi examined them keenly, with curiosity. +Naked little boys and girls wandered gravely about; women clung together +in groups; men squatted on their heels before anything that struck their +attention, and stared. +</p> + +<p> +These people, Kingozi noted, were above middle size, of a red bronze, of +the Semitic rather than the Hamitic type, well developed but not obviously +muscular, of a bright and lively expression. The women shaved their heads +quite bare; the men left a sort of skull cap of hair atop the head. +Earlobes were pierced and stretched to hold ivory ornaments running up to +the size of a jampot. There were some, but not many, armlets, leglets, and +necklets of iron wire polished to the appearance of silver. The women wore +brief skirts of softened skins: the men carried a short shoulder cape, or +simply nothing at all. Each man bore a long-bladed heavy spear. Before +squatting down in front of whatever engaged his attention for the moment, +the savage thrust this upright in the ground. Kingozi, behind his pipe, +considered them well: and received a favourable impression. An immovable, +unblinking semicircle crouched at a respectful distance taking in every +detail of the white man's appearance and belongings, watching his every +move. Nobody spoke; apparently nobody even winked. +</p> + +<p> +Now appeared across the prospect two men walking. One was an elderly +savage, with a wrinkled, shrewd countenance. He was almost completely +enveloped in a robe of softened skins. Followed him a younger man, +dangling at the end of a thong a small three-legged stool cut entire from +a single block of wood. The old man swept forward with considerable +dignity; the younger, one hand held high in the most affected fashion, +teetered gracefully along as mincingly as any dandy. +</p> + +<p> +The visitor came superbly up to where Kingozi sat, and uttered a greeting +in Swahili. He proved to possess a grand, deep, thunderous voice. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Jambo!</i>" he rolled. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi stared up at him coolly for a moment; then, without removing his +pipe from his teeth, he remarked: +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Jambo!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +The old man, smiling, extended his hand.[<a href="#8">8</a>] +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="8">8</a>: Many African tribes shake hands in one way or another.] +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi, nursing the bowl of his pipe, continued to stare up at him. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you the <i>sultani?</i>" he demanded abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +The old man waved his hand in courtly fashion. +</p> + +<p> +"I am not the <i>sultani</i>," he answered in very bad Swahili; "I am the +headman of the <i>sultani</i>." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi continued to stare at him in the most uncompromising manner. In +the meantime the younger man had loosed the thong from his wrist and had +placed the stool on a level spot. The prime minister to the <i>sultani</i> +arranged his robe preparatory to sitting down. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi removed his pipe from his lips, and sat erect. +</p> + +<p> +"Stand up!" he commanded sharply. "If you are not the <i>sultani</i> how dare +you sit down before me!" +</p> + +<p> +The youth whisked the stool away: the old man covered his discomfiture in +a flow of talk. Kingozi listened to him in silence. The visitor concluded +his remarks which--as far as they could be understood--were entirely +general: and, with a final courtly wave of the hand, turned away. Then +Kingozi spoke, abruptly, curtly. +</p> + +<p> +"Have your people bring me eggs," he said, "milk, <i>m'wembe</i>."[<a href="#9">9</a>] +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="9">9</a>: A sort of flour ground from rape seeds.] +</p> + +<p> +The old man, somewhat abashed, made the most dignified retreat possible +through the keenly attentive audience of his own people. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi gazed after him, his blue eyes wide with their peculiar aggressive +blank stare. A low hum of conversation swept through the squatting +warriors. Those who understood Swahili murmured eagerly to those who did +not. These uttered politely the long drawn "A-a-a-a!" of savage interest. +</p> + +<p> +"Cazi Moto, where is my chair?" Kingozi demanded, abruptly conscious that +the chop box was not very comfortable. +</p> + +<p> +"Bibi-ya-chui has it." +</p> + +<p> +"Where is she?" +</p> + +<p> +"Right behind you," came that young woman's voice in amused tones. "You +have been so busy that you have not seen me." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi turned. The chair had been placed in a bare spot close to the +trunk of the great tree. He grinned cheerfully. +</p> + +<p> +"I was pretty hungry," he confessed, "and I don't believe I saw a single +thing but that curry!" +</p> + +<p> +"Naturally. It is not to be wondered at. Are you all rested?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm quite fit, thanks. And you?" +</p> + +<p> +She was still in her marching costume; but her hair had been smoothed, her +face washed. The colour had come back to her lips, the light to her +expression. Only a faint dark encircling of the eyes, and a certain +graceful languor of attitude recalled the collapse of yesterday. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I am all right; but perishing for a cigarette. Have you one?" +</p> + +<p> +"Sorry, but I don't use them. Are not all your loads up yet?" +</p> + +<p> +"None of them." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, they should be in shortly. Cazi Moto has given you breakfast, of +course." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. But nobody has yet gone for my loads." +</p> + +<p> +"What!" exclaimed Kingozi sharply. "Why did you not start men for them +when you first awakened?" +</p> + +<p> +She smiled at him ruefully. +</p> + +<p> +"I tried. But they said they were very tired from yesterday. They would +not go." +</p> + +<p> +"Simba!" called Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +"Suh!" +</p> + +<p> +"Bring the headman of Bibi-ya-chui. Is he that mop-headed blighter?" he +asked her. +</p> + +<p> +"Who? Oh, the Nubian, Chaké. No; he is just a faithful creature near +myself. I have no headman." +</p> + +<p> +"Who takes your orders, then?" +</p> + +<p> +"The <i>askaris</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Which one?" +</p> + +<p> +"Any of them." She made a mouth. "Don't look at me in that fashion. Is +that so very dreadful?" +</p> + +<p> +"It's impossible. You can never run a safari in that way. Simba, bring all +the <i>askaris</i>." +</p> + +<p> +Simba departed on his errand. Kingozi turned to her gravely. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear lady," said he gravely, "I am going to offend you again. But this +won't do. You are a wonderful woman; but you do not know this game well +enough. I acknowledge you will handle this show ordinarily in tiptop +style; but in a new country, in contact with new peoples--it's a +specialist's job, that's all." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm beginning to think so," she replied with unexpected humility. +</p> + +<p> +"Already you've lost control of your organization: you nearly died from +lack of water--By the way, why didn't you push ahead with your Nubian, and +find the water?" +</p> + +<p> +"I had to get my men on." +</p> + +<p> +He looked on her with more approval. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you're safe out of it. And now, I beg of you, don't do it any +more." +</p> + +<p> +"Is my little scolding all done?" she asked after a pause. +</p> + +<p> +"Forgive me. I did not mean it as a scolding." +</p> + +<p> +She sat upright and rested her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands. +Her long sea-green eyes softened. +</p> + +<p> +"Listen: I deserve that what you say. I thought I knew, because always I +have travelled in a good country. But never the hell of a dry country. I +want you to know that you are quite right, and I want to tell you that I +know you saved me and my men: and I would not know what to do now if you +were not here to help me. There!" she made a pretty outward-flinging +gesture. "Is that enough?" +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi, like most men whose natural efficiency has been hardened by wide +experience, while impervious to either open or wily antagonism, melted at +the first hint of surrender. A wave of kindly feeling overwhelmed the last +suspicions--absurd suspicions--his analysis had made. He was prevented +from replying by the approach of Simba at the head of eight of the +<i>askaris</i>. They slouched along at his heels, sullen and careless, but when +they felt the impact of Kingozi's cold glare, they straightened to +attention. Kingozi ran his eye over them. +</p> + +<p> +"Where are the other four?" he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +"Three are in the <i>shenzis'</i> village. One says he is very tired." +</p> + +<p> +"Take Mali-ya-bwana and Cazi Moto. Take the leg chains. Bring that one man +before me with the chains on him. Have him bring also his gun; and his +cartridges." +</p> + +<p> +Ignoring the waiting eight, Kingozi resumed his conversation with the +Leopard Woman. +</p> + +<p> +"They are out of hand," said he. "We must impress them." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Kiboko?</i>" she inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps--but you have rather overdone that. We shall see." +</p> + +<p> +"I heard you talk with that old man a few moments ago," she said. "And I +heard also much talk of our men about it. He is a very powerful chief--next to the <i>sultani</i>. Are not you afraid that your treatment of him will +make trouble? You were not polite." +</p> + +<p> +"What else have you heard?" +</p> + +<p> +"This <i>sultani</i> has apparently several hundred villages. They keep goats, +fat-tailed sheep, and some few cattle. They raise <i>m'wembe</i>, beans, +peanuts, and bananas. They have a war caste of young men." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi listened to her attentively. +</p> + +<p> +"Good girl!" said he. "You use your intelligence. These are all good +points to know." +</p> + +<p> +"But this old man----" +</p> + +<p> +"No; I have not insulted him. I know the native mind. I have merely +convinced him that I am every bit as important a person as his <i>sultani</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you do next? Call on the <i>sultani</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"By no means. Wait until he comes. If he does not come by, say to-morrow, +send for him." +</p> + +<p> +Simba appeared leading a downcast <i>askari</i> in irons. Kingozi waved his +hand toward those waiting in the sun; and the new captive made the ninth. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, Simba, go to the village of these <i>shenzis</i>. Tell the other three +<i>askaris</i> to come; and at once. Do not return without them." +</p> + +<p> +Simba, whose fierce soul all this delighted beyond expression, started off +joyfully, trailed by a posse of his own choosing. +</p> + +<p> +"What are you going to do?" asked the Leopard Woman curiously. +</p> + +<p> +"Get them in line a bit," replied Kingozi carelessly. "I feel rather lazy +and done up to-day; don't you?" +</p> + +<p> +"That is so natural. And I am keeping your chair----" +</p> + +<p> +"I've been many trips without one. This tree is good to lean against----" +</p> + +<p> +They chatted about trivial matters. A certain ease had crept into their +relations: a guard had been lowered. To a small extent they ventured to +question each other, to indulge in those tentative explorations of +personality so fascinating in the early stages of acquaintanceship. To her +inquiries Kingozi repeated that he was an ivory hunter and trader; he came +into this country because new country alone offered profits in ivory these +days; he had been in Africa for fifteen years. At this last she looked him +over closely. +</p> + +<p> +"You came out very young," she surmised. +</p> + +<p> +"When my father took me out of the medical school to put me into the +ministry. I had a knack for doctoring. I ran away." +</p> + +<p> +"Why did you come to Africa?" +</p> + +<p> +"Didn't particularly. Started for Iceland on a whaling ship. Sailed the +seven seas after the brutes. Landed on the Gold Coast--and got left +behind." +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him hard, and he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"'Left' with my kit and about sixty pounds I had hung on to since I left +home--my own money, mind you! <i>And</i> a harpoon gun! Lord!" he laughed +again, "think of it--a harpoon gun! You loaded it with about a peck of +black powder. Normally, of course, it shot a harpoon, but you could very +near cram a nigger baby down it! And kick! If you were the least bit off +balance it knocked you flat. It was the most extraordinary cannon ever +seen in Africa, and it inspired more respect, acquired me more <i>kudos</i> +than even my beard." +</p> + +<p> +"So <i>that's</i> why you wear it!" she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +"What?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing; go on." +</p> + +<p> +"Just the sight of that awe-inspiring piece of ordnance took me the length +of the Congo without the least difficulty." +</p> + +<p> +"Tell me about the Congo." +</p> + +<p> +Apparently, at this direct and comprehensive question, there was nothing +to tell about the Congo. But adroitly she drew him on. He told of the +great river and its people, and the white men who administered it. The +subject of cannibals seemed especially to fascinate her. He had seen +living human beings issued as a sort of ration on the hoof to native +cannibal troops. +</p> + +<p> +Simba returned with the other three <i>askaris</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi arose from the ground and stretched himself. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sorry," said he, "I'm afraid I shall have to ask you for the chair +now." +</p> + +<p> +She arose, wondering a little. He placed the chair before the waiting line +of <i>askaris</i>, and planted himself squarely in it as in a judgment seat. He +ran his eye over the men deliberately. +</p> + +<p> +"You!" said he suddenly, pointing his forefinger at the man in irons. "You +have disobeyed my orders. You are no longer an <i>askari</i>. You are a common +porter, and from now on will carry a load. It is not my custom to use +<i>kiboko</i> on <i>askaris</i>; but a common porter can eat <i>kiboko</i>, and Mali-ya-bwana, my headman of safari, will give you twenty-five lashes. <i>Bassi!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +Mali-ya-bwana, well pleased thus early to exercise the authority of his +new office, led the man away. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi dropped his chin in his hand, a movement that pushed out his beard +in a terrifying manner. One after another of the eleven men felt the +weight of his stare. At last he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"I have heard tales of you," said he, "but I who speak know nothing about +you. You are <i>askaris</i>, soldiers with guns, and next to gun bearers are +the greatest men in the safari. Some have told me that you are not +<i>askaris</i>, that you are common porters--and not good ones--who carry guns. +I do not know. That we shall see. This is what must be done now, and done +quickly: the loads of your <i>memsahib</i> must be brought here, and camp made +properly, according to the custom. Perhaps your men are no longer tired: +perhaps you will get the <i>shenzis</i>. That is not my affair. You +understand?" +</p> + +<p> +The answer came in an eager chorus. + +He ran his eye over them again. +</p> + +<p> +"You," he indicated, "stand forward. Of what tribe are you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Monumwezi, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Your name?" +</p> + +<p> +The man uttered a mouthful of gutturals. +</p> + +<p> +"Again." +</p> + +<p> +He repeated. +</p> + +<p> +"That is not a good name for me. From now on you are--Jack." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know the customs of <i>askaris?</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"H'm," Kingozi commented in English, "nobody would guess it. Then +understand this: You are headman of <i>askaris</i>. You take the orders: you +report to me--or the <i>memsahib</i>," he added, almost as an afterthought. +"To-morrow morning <i>fall in</i>, and I will look at your guns. <i>Bassi!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +They filed away. Kingozi arose and returned the chair. +</p> + +<p> +"Is that all you will do to them?" she demanded. "I tell you they have +insulted me; they have refused to move; they should be punished." +</p> + +<p> +"That's all. They understand now what will happen. You will see: they will +not refuse again." +</p> + +<p> +She appeared to struggle against a flare of her old rebellious spirit. +</p> + +<p> +"I will leave it to you," she managed at last. +</p> + +<p> +The squatting savages had not moved a muscle, but their shining black eyes +had not missed a single detail. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="x">CHAPTER X</a></h2> + +<h3>THE SULTANI</h3> + +<p> +Six hours later the Leopard Woman's camp had arrived, had been pitched, +and everything was running again as usual. The new <i>askari</i> headman, Jack, +had reported pridefully to Kingozi. The latter had nodded a careless +acknowledgment; and had referred the man to his mistress. She had +disappeared for a time, but now emerged again, bathed, freshened, dainty +in her silken tea gown, the braids of hair down her back, the band of +woven gold encircling her brow, the single strange jewel hanging in the +middle of her forehead. For a time she sat alone under her own tree; but, +as Kingozi showed no symptoms of coming to her, and as she was bored and +growing impatient, she trailed over to him, the Nubian following with her +chair. Kingozi was absorbed in establishing points on his map. He looked +up at her and nodded pleasantly, then moved his protractor a few inches. +</p> + +<p> +"Just a moment," he murmured absorbedly. +</p> + +<p> +She lit a cigarette and yawned. The immediate prospect was dull. Savages +continued to drift in, to squat and stare, then to move on to the porters' +camps. There a lively bartering was going on. From some unsuspected store +each porter had drawn forth a few beads, some snuff, a length of wire, or +similar treasure; and with them was making the best bargain he could for +the delicacies of the country. The process was noisy. Four <i>askaris</i>, with +their guns, stood on guard. The shadows were lengthening in the hills, and +the heat waves had ceased to shimmer like veils. +</p> + +<p> +"That's done," said Kingozi at last. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank the Lord!" she ejaculated. "This bores me. Why do we not do +something? I should like some milk, some eggs--many things. Let us summon +this king." +</p> + +<p> +But Kingozi shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"That's all very well where the white man's influence reaches. But not +here. I doubt if there are three men in this people who have ever even +seen a white man. Of course they have all heard of us, and know a good +deal about us. We must stand on our dignity here. Let the <i>sultani</i> come +to us, all in his own time. Without his goodwill we cannot move a step +farther, we cannot get a pound of <i>potio</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"How long will it take? I want to get on. This does not interest me. I +have seen many natives." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"Two days of visit. Then perhaps a week to get <i>potio</i> and guides." +</p> + +<p> +"Impossible! I could not endure it!" +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid you will have to. I know the untamed savage. He is inclined +to be friendly, always. If you hurry the process, you must fight. That's +the trouble with a big mob like yours. It is difficult to feed so many +peacefully. Even in a rich country they bring in <i>potio</i> slowly--a cupful +at a time. With the best intentions in the world you may have to use +coercion to keep from starving. And coercion means trouble. Look at +Stanley--he left hostilities everywhere, that have lasted up to now. The +people were well enough disposed when he came among them with his six or +eight hundred men. But he had to have food and he had to have it quickly. +He could not wait for slow, diplomatic methods. He had to <i>take</i> it. Even +when you pay for a thing, that doesn't work. The news travelled ahead of +him, and the result was he had to fight. And everybody else has had to +fight ever since." +</p> + +<p> +"That is interesting. I did not know that." +</p> + +<p> +"A small party can negotiate. That's why I say you have too many men." +</p> + +<p> +"But the time wasted!" she cried aghast. +</p> + +<p> +"Time is nothing in Africa." He went on to tell her of the two travellers +in Rhodesia who came upon a river so wide that they could but just see +from one bank to the other; and so swift that rafts were of little avail. +So one man went back for a folding boat while the other camped by the +stream. Four months later the first man returned with the boat. The +"river" had dried up completely! +</p> + +<p> +"They didn't mind," said Kingozi, "they thought it a huge joke." +</p> + +<p> +An hour before sundown signs of activity manifested themselves from the +direction of the invisible village. A thin, high, wailing chant in female +voices came fitfully to their ears. A compact little group of men rounded +the bend and approached. Their gait was slow and stately. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," remarked Kingozi, feeling for his pipe, "we are going to be +honoured by that visit from his majesty." +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman leaned forward and surveyed the approaching men with +some interest. They were four in number. Three were naked, their bodies +oiled until they glistened with a high polish. One of them carried a +battered old canvas steamer chair; one a fan of ostrich plumes; and one a +long gourd heavily decorated with cowrie shells. The fourth was an +impressive individual in middle life, hawkfaced, tall and spare, carrying +himself with great dignity. He wore a number of anklets and armlets of +polished wire, a broad beaded collar, heavy earrings, and a sumptuous robe +of softened goatskins embroidered with beads and cowrie shells. As he +strode his anklets clashed softly. His girt was free, and he walked with +authority. Altogether an impressive figure. +</p> + +<p> +"The <i>sultani</i> is a fine-looking man," observed Bibi-ya-chui. "I suppose +the others are slaves." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi threw a careless glance in the direction of the approaching group. +</p> + +<p> +"Not the <i>sultani</i>--some understrapper. Chief Hereditary Guardian of the +Royal Chair, or something of that sort, I dare say." +</p> + +<p> +The tall man approached, smiling graciously. Kingozi vouchsafed him no +attention. Visibly impressed, the newcomer rather fussily superintended +the unfolding and placing of the chair. The slaves with the plumed fan and +the gourd stationed themselves at either side. The other two men fell +back. +</p> + +<p> +Now the shrill chanting became more clearly audible. Shortly appeared a +procession. Women bearing burdens walked two by two. Armed men with spears +and shields flanked them. As they approached, it could be seen that they +were very gorgeous indeed; the women hung with strings of cowries, bound +with glittering brass and iron, bedecked with strings of beads. To one +familiar with savage peoples there could be no doubt that these were close +to the purple. Each bead, each shell, each bangle of wire had been passed +through many, many hands before it reached this remote fastness of +barbarity; and in each hand, you may be sure, profits had remained. But +the men were more impressive still. Stark naked of every stitch of cloth +or of tanned skins, oiled with an unguent carrying a dull red stain, their +heads shaved bare save for a small crown patch from which single feathers +floated, they symbolized well the warrior stripped for the fray. A beaded +broad belt supported a short sword and the <i>runga</i>, or war club; an oval +shield of buffalo hide, brilliantly painted, hung on the left arm; a +polished long-bladed spear was carried in the right hand. And surrounding +the face, as a frame, was a queer headdress of black ostrich plumes. Every +man of them wore about his ankles hollow bangles of considerable size; and +these he clashed loudly one against the other as he walked. +</p> + +<p> +It made a great uproar this--the clang of the iron, the wild wailing of +the women's voices. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi moved his chair four or five paces to the front. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sorry," he told her, "but I must ask you to stay where you are. This +is an important occasion." +</p> + +<p> +He surveyed the oncoming procession with interest. +</p> + +<p> +"Swagger old beggar," he observed. "His guard are well turned out. You +know those markings on the shields are a true heraldry--the patterns mean +families, and all that sort of thing." +</p> + +<p> +The chanting grew louder as the procession neared. The warriors stared +fiercely straight ahead. Before Kingozi they parted to right and left, +forming an aisle leading to his chair. Down this the women came, one by +one, still singing, and deposited their burdens at the white man's feet. +There were baskets of <i>m'wembe</i>, earthen bowls of eggs, fowls, gourds of +milk, bundles of faggots and firewood, woven bags of <i>n'jugu</i> nuts, +vegetables, and two small sheep. Kingozi stared indifferently into the +distance; but as each gift was added to the others he reached forward to +touch it as a sign of acceptance. Their burdens deposited, they took their +places in front of the ranks of the warriors. +</p> + +<p> +"Am I supposed to speak?" asked the Leopard Woman. +</p> + +<p> +"Surely." +</p> + +<p> +"Shouldn't we order out our <i>askaris</i> with their guns to make the parade?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. We could not hope to equal this show, possibly. Our lay is to do the +supercilious indifferent." He turned to his attentive satellite. "Cazi +Moto," he ordered, "tell our people, quietly, to go back to their camps. +They must not stand and stare at these <i>shenzis</i>. And tell M'pishi to make +large <i>balauris</i> of coffee, and put in plenty of sugar." +</p> + +<p> +Cazi Moto grinned understandingly, and glided away. Shortly the safari men +could be seen sauntering unconcernedly back to their little fires. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the warriors cried out in a loud voice, and raised their right +arms and spears rigidly above their heads. A tall, heavily built man +appeared around the bend. He was followed by two young women, who flanked +him by a pace or so to the rear. They were so laden with savage riches as +to be almost concealed beneath the strings of cowrie shells and bands of +beads. In contrast the man wore only a long black cotton blanket draped to +leave one shoulder and arm bare. Not an earring, not a bangle, not even a +finger ring or a bead strap relieved the sombre simplicity of the black +robe and the dark skin. +</p> + +<p> +"But this man is an artist!" murmured Bibi-ya-chui. "He understands +effect! This is stage managed!" +</p> + +<p> +The <i>sultani</i> approached without haste. He stopped squarely before +Kingozi's chair. The latter did not rise. The two men stared into each +other's eyes for a full minute, without embarrassment, without contest, +without defiance. Then the black man spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Jambo, bwana</i>," he rumbled in a deep voice. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Jambo, sultani</i>" replied Kingozi calmly. +</p> + +<p> +They shook hands. +</p> + +<p> +With regal deliberation the visitor arranged his robes and sat down in the +battered old canvas chair. A silence that lasted nearly five minutes +ensued. +</p> + +<p> +"I thank you, <i>sultani</i>, for the help your men have given. I thank you for +the houses. I thank you for these gifts." +</p> + +<p> +The <i>sultani</i> waved his hand magnificently. +</p> + +<p> +"It is not the custom of white men to give gifts until their departure," +continued Kingozi, "but this knife is yours to make friendship." +</p> + +<p> +He handed over a knife, of Swedish manufacture, the blade of which +disappeared into the handle in a most curious fashion. The <i>sultani's</i> +eyes lit up with an almost childish delight, but his countenance showed no +emotion. He passed the knife on to the dignitary who stood behind his +chair. +</p> + +<p> +"This," said Kingozi, taking one of the steaming <i>balauris</i> from Cazi +Moto, "is the white man's <i>tembo</i>." +</p> + +<p> +The <i>sultani</i> tasted doubtfully. He was pleased. He gave back the +<i>balauri</i> at last with a final smack of the lips. +</p> + +<p> +"Good!" said he. +</p> + +<p> +Another full five minutes of silence ensued. Then the <i>sultani</i> arose. He +cast a glance about him, his eye, avid with curiosity, held rigidly in +restraint. It rested on the Leopard Woman. +</p> + +<p> +"I see you have one of your women with you," he remarked. +</p> + +<p> +He turned, without further ceremony, and stalked off, followed at a few +paces by the two richly ornamented girls. The warriors again raised their +spears aloft, holding them thus until their lord had rounded the cliff. +Then, the women in precedence, they marched away. Kingozi puffed his pipe +indifferently. +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman was visibly impatient, visibly roused. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you letting him go?" she demanded. "Do not you inquire the country? +Do not you ask for <i>potio</i>, for guides?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not to-day," replied Kingozi. He turned deliberately to face her, his +eyes serious. "Please realize once for all that we live here only by force +of <i>prestige</i>. My only chance of getting on, our only chance of safety +rests on my ability to impress this man with the idea that I am a bigger +lord than he. And, remember, I have lived in savage Africa for fifteen +years, and I know what I am doing. This is very serious. You must not +interfere; and you must not suggest." +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman's eyes glittered dangerously, but she controlled +herself. +</p> + +<p> +"You talk like a sultan yourself," she protested at length. "You should +not use that tone to me." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi brushed the point aside with a large gesture. +</p> + +<p> +"I will play the game of courtesy with you, yes," said he, "but only when +it does not interfere with serious things. In this matter there must be no +indefiniteness, no chance for misunderstanding. Politeness, between the +sexes, means both. I will repeat: in this you must leave me free hand no +interference, no suggestion." +</p> + +<p> +"And if I disobey your commands?" she challenged, with an emphasis on the +last word. +</p> + +<p> +He surveyed her sombrely. +</p> + +<p> +"I should take measures," he replied finally. +</p> + +<p> +"You are not my master: you are not the master of my men!" +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi permitted himself a slight smile. +</p> + +<p> +"If you believe that last statement, just try to give an order to your men +counter to an order of mine. You would see. And of course in case of a +real crisis I should have to make myself master of you, if you seemed +likely to be troublesome." +</p> + +<p> +"I would kill you! I warn you; I go always armed!" +</p> + +<p> +From the folds of her silken robe she produced a small automatic pistol +which she displayed. Kingozi glanced at it indifferently. +</p> + +<p> +"In that case you would have to kill yourself, too; and then it would not +matter to either of us." +</p> + +<p> +"I find you insufferable!" she cried, getting to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +She moved away in the direction of her camp. The faithful Nubian folded +her chair and followed. At the doorway of her tent she looked back. +Kingozi, his black pipe in his mouth, was bending absorbedly over his map. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xi">CHAPTER XI</a></h2> + +<h3>THE IVORY STOCKADE</h3> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman, emerging from her tent shortly after sunup the next +morning, saw across the opening her own <i>askaris</i> being drilled by +Kingozi, Simba, and Cazi Moto. Evidently the instruction was in rifle +fire. Two were getting individual treatment: Simba and Cazi Moto were +putting them through a careful course in aiming and pulling the trigger on +empty guns. Kingozi sat on a chop box in the shade, gripping his eternal +pipe, and issuing curt orders and criticisms to the baker's dozen, before +him. When he saw the Leopard Woman he arose and strolled in her direction. +</p> + +<p> +"That's the worst lot of so-called <i>askaris</i> I ever saw," he remarked. +"Where did you pick them up?" +</p> + +<p> +His manner was entirely unconscious of any discussions or dissentions. He +looked into her eyes and smiled genially. +</p> + +<p> +"I took them from the recruiting man, as they came," she replied. As +always the deeps of her eyes were enigmatical; but the surfaces, at least, +of her mood answered his. +</p> + +<p> +"They know how to load a gun, and that is about all. I don't believe one +of them ever fired a weapon before this trip. They haven't the most +rudimentary ideas of aiming. Don't even know what sights are for. My boys +will soon whip them into some sort of shape. I came over to see how much +ammunition you have for their muskets. They really ought to fire a few +rounds--after a week of aiming and snapping. Then they'll be of some use. +Not much, though." +</p> + +<p> +"I really don't know," she answered his question. "Chaké will look and +see." +</p> + +<p> +"Send him over to report when he finds out," requested Kingozi, preparing +to return. +</p> + +<p> +"What move does your wisdom contemplate to-day?" she called after him. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, return his majesty's visit this afternoon. Like to go?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I'll let you know when. And if you go, you must be content to stand +two or three yards behind me, and to say nothing." +</p> + +<p> +She flushed, but answered steadily enough: +</p> + +<p> +"I'll remember." +</p> + +<p> +It was nearing sundown when Kingozi emerged from his tent and gave the +signal to move. He had for the first time strapped on a heavy revolver; +his glasses hung from his neck; his sleeve was turned back to show his +wrist watch; and, again for the first time, he had assumed a military-looking tunic. He carried his double rifle. +</p> + +<p> +"Got on everything I own," he grinned. +</p> + +<p> +Simba and Cazi Moto waited near. From the mysterious sources every native +African seems to possess they had produced new hats and various trinkets. +Their khakis had been fresh washed; so they looked neat and trim. +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman wore still one of her silken negligées, and the jewel on +her forehead; but her hair had been piled high on her head. Kingozi +surveyed her with some particularity. She noted the fact. Her satisfaction +would have diminished could she have read his mind. He was thinking that +her appearance was sufficiently barbaric to impress a barbaric king. +</p> + +<p> +They rounded the point of cliffs, and the village lay before them. It +rambled up the side of the mountain, hundreds of beehive houses perched +and clinging, with paths from one to the other. The approach was through a +narrow straight lane of thorn and aloes, so thick and so spiky that no +living thing bigger than a mouse could have forced its way through the +walls. The end of this vista was a heavy palisade of timbers through which +a door led into a circular enclosure ten feet in diameter, on the other +side of which another door opened into the village. Above each of these +doors massive timbers were suspended ready to fall at the cut of a sword. +Within the little enclosure, or double gate, squatted a man before a great +drum. +</p> + +<p> +"They're pretty well fixed here," observed Kingozi critically. "Nobody can +get at them except down that lane. The mountains are impassable because of +the thorn. They must use arrows." +</p> + +<p> +"Why?" asked the Leopard Woman. +</p> + +<p> +"The form of their defence. They shoot between the logs of the palisade +down the narrow lane. If they fought only with spears, the lane would be +shorter, and it would be defended on the flank." +</p> + +<p> +"Why don't they defend it on the flank also, even with arrows?" asked the +Leopard Woman shrewdly. +</p> + +<p> +"'It is not the custom,'" wearily quoted Kingozi in the vernacular. "Don't +ask me <i>why</i> a savage does things. I only know he does." +</p> + +<p> +Their conversation was drowned by the sound of the drum. +</p> + +<p> +The guardian did not beat it, but rubbed the head rapidly with the stick, +modifying the pressure scientifically until the vibrations had well +started. It roared hollowly, like some great bull. +</p> + +<p> +The visitors passed through the defensive anteroom and entered the village +enclosure. +</p> + +<p> +On the flat below the hills, heretofore invisible, stood a half-dozen +large houses. At the end, where the cañon began to narrow, a fence gleamed +dazzlingly white. From this distance the four-foot posts, planted in +proximity like a stockade, looked to have been whitewashed. +</p> + +<p> +People were appearing everywhere. The crags and points of the hills were +filling with bold black figures silhouetted against the sky. Men, women, +children, dogs sprang up, from the soil apparently. As though by magic the +flat open space became animated. Plumed heads appeared above the white +fence in the distance, where, undoubtedly, their owners had been loafing +in the shade. Another drum began to roar somewhere, and with it the echoes +began to arouse themselves in the hills. +</p> + +<p> +Paying no attention to any of this interesting confusion Kingozi sauntered +straight ahead. At his command the Leopard Woman had dropped a pace to the +rear. +</p> + +<p> +"The royal palace is behind the white fence," he volunteered over his +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +They approached the sacred precincts. But while yet fifty yards distant, +Kingozi stopped with an exclamation. He turned to the Leopard Woman, and +for the first time she saw on his face and in his eyes a genuine and +unconcealed excitement. +</p> + +<p> +"My Lord!" he cried to her, "saw ever any man the likes of that!" +</p> + +<p> +The white posts of which the fence was made were elephants' tusks! +</p> + +<p> +"Kingdom coming, what a sight!" murmured Kingozi. "Why, there are hundreds +and hundreds of them--and the smallest worth not less than fifty pounds!" +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes answered him whole-heartedly, for her imagination was afire. +</p> + +<p> +"What magnificence!" she replied. "The thought is great--a palace of +ivory! This is kingly!" +</p> + +<p> +But the light had died in Kingozi's eyes. "Won't do!" he muttered to her. +"Compose your face. Come." +</p> + +<p> +Without another glance at the magnificent tusks he marched on through the +open gate. +</p> + +<p> +Other drums, many drums, were roaring all about. The cliff of the cañon +was filled with sound that buffeted back and forth until it seemed that it +must rise above the hills and overflow the world. A chattering and +hurrying of people could be heard as an undertone. +</p> + +<p> +The small enclosure was occupied by a dozen of the plumed warriors who had +now snatched up emblazoned shield and polished spear; and stood rigidly at +attention. Women of all ages crouched and squatted against the fence and +the sides of a large wattle and thatch building. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi walked deliberately about, looking with detached interest at the +various people and objects the corral contained. He had very much the air +of a man sauntering idly about a museum, with all the time in the world on +his hands, and nowhere much to go. Simba and Cazi Moto remained near the +gate. The Leopard Woman, not knowing what else to do, trailed after him. +</p> + +<p> +This continued for some time. At last her impatience overcame her. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose I may talk," said she resentfully. "How much longer must this +go on? Why do not you make your call and have it over?" +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"You do not know this game. Inside old Stick-in-the mud is waiting in all +his grandeur. He expects me to go in to him. I am going to wait until he +comes out to me. <i>Prestige</i> again." +</p> + +<p> +Apparently without a care in the world, he continued his stroll. Small +naked children ventured from hiding-places and stared. To some of these +Kingozi spoke pleasantly with the immediate effect of causing them to +scuttle back to cover. He examined minutely the tusks comprising the +stockade. They had been arranged somewhat according to size, with the +curve outward. Kingozi spent some time estimating them. +</p> + +<p> +"Fortune here for some one," he observed. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of an hour the <i>sultani</i> gave up the contest and appeared, +smiling, unconcerned. The men greeted each other, exchanged a few words. +Women emerged from the house carrying <i>tembo</i> in gourd bottles, and +smaller half-gourds from which to drink it. Their eyes were large with +curiosity as to this man and woman of a new species. Kingozi touched his +lips to the <i>tembo</i>. They exchanged a few words, and shook hands again. +Then Kingozi turned away, and, followed by the Leopard Woman and his two +men, walked out through the ivory gateway, down through the open flat, +under the fortified portal, and so down the lane of spiky walls. The drums +roared louder and louder. Warriors in spear, shield, and plumed headdress +stood rigid as they passed. People by the hundreds gazed at them openly, +peered at them from behind doors, or looked down on them from the crags +above. They rounded the corner of the cliff. Before them lay their own +quiet peaceful camp. Only the voice of the drums bellowed as though behind +them in the cleft of the hills some great and savage beast lay hid. +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a name="illusp122.jpg"></a> +<a href="images/illusp122.jpg"><img src="images/illusp122_th.jpg" alt="Their eyes were large with curiosity as to this man and woman of a new species.... Kingozi touched his lips to the <i>tembo</i>"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"That seemed to be all right," suggested the Leopard Woman, ranging +alongside again. +</p> + +<p> +"They didn't spear us, if that's what you mean. We can tell more about it +to-morrow." +</p> + +<p> +"What will happen to-morrow?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yesterday and to-day finished the 'side' and ceremony. If to-morrow old +Stick-in-the-mud drifts around quite on his own, like any other <i>shenzi</i>, +and if the women come into camp freely, why then we're all right." +</p> + +<p> +"And otherwise?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, if the <i>sultani</i> stays away, and if you don't see any women at all, +and if the men are painted and carry their shields--they will always carry +their spears--that won't be so favourable." "In which case we fight?" +</p> + +<p> +"No: I'll alter my diplomacy. There's a vast difference between mere +unfriendliness and hostility. I think I can handle the former all right. I +wish I knew a little more of their language. Swahili hardly fills the +bill. I'll see what I can do with it in the next few days." +</p> + +<p> +"You cannot learn a language in a few days!" she objected incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course not. But I seem to know the general root idea of this patter. +It isn't unlike the N'gruimi--same root likely--a bastard combination of +Bantu-Masai stock." +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +"You know," she told him slowly, "I am beginning to believe you <i>savant</i>. +You make not much of it, but your knowledge of natives is extraordinary. +You better than any other man know these people--their minds--how to +influence them." +</p> + +<p> +"I have a little knowledge of how to go at them, that's true. That's about +the only claim I have to being <i>savant</i>, as you call it. My book knowledge +and fact knowledge is equalled by many and exceeded by a great many more. +But mere knowledge of facts doesn't get far in practice," he laughed. +"Lord, these scientists! Helpless as children!" He sobered again. "There's +one man has the science and the psychology both. He's a wonderful person. +He knows the native objectively as I never will; and subjectively as well +if not better. It is a rare combination. He's 'way over west of us +somewhere now--in the Congo headwaters--a Bavarian, name Winkleman." +</p> + +<p> +Had Kingozi been looking at her he would have seen the Leopard Woman's +frame stiffen at the mention of this name. For a moment she said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +"I know the name--he is great scientist," she managed to say. +</p> + +<p> +"He is more than a scientist; he is a great humanist. No man has more +insight, more sympathetic insight into the native mind. A man of vast +influence." +</p> + +<p> +They had reached Kingozi's camp under the great tree. He began to unbuckle +his equipment. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll just lay all this gorgeousness aside," said he apologetically. +</p> + +<p> +But the Leopard Woman did not proceed to her own camp. +</p> + +<p> +"I am interested," said she. "This Winkleman--he has vast influence? More +than yourself?" +</p> + +<p> +"That is hard to say," laughed Kingozi. "I should suppose so." +</p> + +<p> +She caught at a hint of reluctant pride in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us suppose," said she. "Let us suppose that you wanted one thing of +natives, and Winkleman wanted another thing. Which would succeed?" +</p> + +<p> +"Neither. We'd both be speared," replied Kingozi promptly. "Positive and +negative poles, and all that sort of thing." +</p> + +<p> +She puzzled over this a moment, trying to cast her question in a new form. +</p> + +<p> +"But suppose this: suppose Winkleman had obtained his wish. Could you +overcome his influence and what-you-call substitute your own?" +</p> + +<p> +"No more than he could substitute his were the cases reversed. I've +confidence enough in myself and knowledge enough of Winkleman to guarantee +that." +</p> + +<p> +"So it would depend on who got there first?" she persisted; "that is your +opinion?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, yes. But what does it matter?" +</p> + +<p> +"It amuses me to get knowledge. I admire your handle of these people. You +must be patient and explain. It is all new to me, although I thought I had +much experience." +</p> + +<p> +She arose. +</p> + +<p> +"I am tired now. I go to the <i>siesta</i>." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi stared after her retreating figure. The direct form of her +questions had stirred again suspicions that had become vague. +</p> + +<p> +"What's she driving at?" he asked the uncomprehending Simba in English. He +considered the question for some moments. "Don't even know her name or +nationality," he confessed to himself after a while. "She's a queer one. I +suppose I'll have to give her a man or so to help her back across the +Thirst." He pondered again, "I might take her <i>askaris</i>. Country will feed +them now. I'll have a business talk with her." +</p> + +<p> +As the tone of voice sounded final to Simba he ventured his usual reply. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, suh!" said Simba. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xii">CHAPTER XII</a></h2> + +<h3>THE PILOCARPIN</h3> + +<p> +The <i>sultani</i> duly appeared the next morning; women brought in firewood +and products of the country to trade; all was well. The entire day, and +the succeeding days for over a week, Kingozi sat under his big tree, +smoking his black pipe. The <i>sultani</i> sat beside him. For long periods at +a time nothing at all was said. Then for equally long periods a lively +conversation went on, through an interpreter mostly, though occasionally +the <i>sultani</i> launched into his bastard Swahili or Kingozi ventured a few +words in the new tongue. Once in a while some intimate would saunter into +view, and would be summoned by his king. Then Kingozi patiently did the +following things: +</p> + +<p> +(a) He performed disappearing tricks with a rupee or other small object; +causing it to vanish, and then plucking it from unexpected places. +</p> + +<p> +(b) With a pair of scissors--which were magic aplenty in themselves--he +cut a folded paper in such a manner that when unfolded a row of paper +dolls was disclosed. This was a very successful trick. The pleased +warriors dandled them up and down delightedly in an <i>n'goma</i>. +</p> + +<p> +(c) He opened and shut an opera hat. The ordinary "plug hat" was known to +these people, but not an opera hat. +</p> + +<p> +(d) He allowed them to look through his prism glasses. +</p> + +<p> +(e) On rare occasions he lit a match. +</p> + +<p> +This vaudeville entertainment was always a huge success. The newcomers +squatted around the two chairs, and the conversation continued. +</p> + +<p> +Bibi-ya-chui occasionally stood near and listened. The subjects were +trivial in themselves, and repeated endlessly. +</p> + +<p> +Ten minutes of this bored her to the point of extinction. She could not +understand how Kingozi managed to survive ten hours day after day. Only +once was he absent from his post, and then for only a few hours. He went +out accompanied by Simba and a dozen <i>shenzis</i>, and shot a wildebeeste. +The tail of this--an object much prized as a fly whisk--he presented to +his majesty. All the rest of the time he talked and listened. +</p> + +<p> +"It is such childish nonsense!" the Leopard Woman expostulated. "How can +you do it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Goes with the job. It's a thing you must learn to do if you would get on +in this business." +</p> + +<p> +And once more she seemed to catch a glimpse of the infinity of savage +Africa, which has been the same for uncounted ages, impersonal, without +history, without the values of time! +</p> + +<p> +But had she known it, Kingozi was getting what he required. Information +came to him a word now, a word then; promises came to him in single +phrases lost in empty gossip. He collected what he wanted grain by grain +from bushels of chaff. The whole sum of his new knowledge could have been +expressed in a paragraph, took him a week to get, but was just what he +wanted. If he had asked categorical questions, he would have received +lies. If he had attempted to hurry matters, he would have got nothing at +all. +</p> + +<p> +About sundown the <i>sultani</i> would depart, followed shortly by the last +straggler of his people. The succeeding hours were clear of <i>shenzis</i>, for +either the custom of the country or the presence of strangers seemed to +demand an <i>n'goma</i> every evening. In the night stillness sounds carried +readily. The drums, no longer rubbed but beaten in rhythm; the shrill +wailing chants of women; the stamp and shuffle of feet; the cadenced +clapping of hands rose and fell according to the fervour of the dance. The +throb of these sounds was as a background to the evening--fierce, +passionate, barbaric. +</p> + +<p> +After the departure of the <i>sultani</i> Kingozi took a bath and changed his +clothes. The necessity for this was more mental than physical. Then he +relaxed luxuriously. It was then that he resumed his relations with the +Leopard Woman, and that they discussed matters of more or less importance +to both. +</p> + +<p> +The first evening they talked of the wonder of the ivory stockade. Kingozi +had not yet had an opportunity to find out whence the tusks had come, +whether the elephants had been killed in this vicinity, or whether the +ivory had been traded from the Congo. +</p> + +<p> +"It is very valuable," he said. "I must find out whether old Stick-in-the-mud knows what they are worth, or whether he can be traded out of them on +any reasonable basis." +</p> + +<p> +"You will not be going farther," she suggested one evening, apropos of +nothing. +</p> + +<p> +"Farther? Why not?" he asked rather blankly. +</p> + +<p> +"You told me you were an ivory hunter," she pointed out. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah--yes. But I have hardly the goods to trade--come back later," he +stumbled, for once caught off his guard. "I'm really looking for new +hunting grounds." +</p> + +<p> +She did not pursue the subject; but the enigmatic smile lurked for a +moment in the depths of her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Every night after supper Kingozi caused his medicine chest to be brought +out and opened, and for a half-hour he doctored the sick. On this subject +he manifested an approach to enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +"I know I can't doctor them all," he answered her objection, "and that +it's foolish to pick out one here and there; but it interests me. I told +you I was a medical student by training." He fingered over the square +bottles, each in its socket. "This is not the usual safari drug list," he +said. "I like to take these queer cases and see what I can do with them. I +may learn something; at any rate, it interests me. McCloud at Nairobi +fitted me out; and told me what it would be valuable to observe." +</p> + +<p> +She appeared interested, and shortly he became enough convinced of this to +show and explain each drug separately. The quinine he carried in the +hydrochlorate instead of the sulphate, and he waxed eloquent telling her +why. Crystals of iodine as opposed to permanganate of potash for +antiseptic he discussed. From that he branched into antisepsis as opposed +to asepsis as a practical method in the field. +</p> + +<p> +"Theory has nothing to do with it," said he. "It's a matter of which will +<i>work!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +It was all technical; but it interested her for the simple reason that +Kingozi was really enthusiastic. True enthusiasm, without pose or self-consciousness, invariably arouses interest. +</p> + +<p> +"Now here's something you'll never see in another safari kit," said he, +holding up one of the square bottles filled with small white crystals, +"and that wouldn't be found in this one except for an accident. It's +pilocarpin." +</p> + +<p> +"What is pilocarpin?" she asked, making a difficulty of the word. +</p> + +<p> +"It is really a sort of eye dope," he explained. "You know atropin--the +stuff an oculist uses in your eyes when he wants to examine them--leaves +your vision blurred for a day or so." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I know that." +</p> + +<p> +"The effect of atropin is to expand the pupil. Pilocarpin is just the +opposite--it contracts the pupil." +</p> + +<p> +"What need could you possibly have of that?" +</p> + +<p> +"There's the joke: I haven't. But when I was outfitting I could not get +near enough phenacetin. I suppose you know that we use phenacetin to +induce sweating as first treatment of fever." +</p> + +<p> +"I am not entirely ignorant. I can treat fevers, of course." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I took all they could spare. Then McCloud suggested pilocarpin. +Though it is really an eye drug, to be used externally, it also has an +effect internally to induce sweating. So that's why I have it." +</p> + +<p> +She was examining the bottles. +</p> + +<p> +"But you have atropin also. Why is that?" +</p> + +<p> +"There's a good deal of ophthalmia or trachoma floating around some native +districts. I thought I might experiment." +</p> + +<p> +"And this"--she picked up a third bottle--"ah, yes, morphia. But how much +alike they all are." +</p> + +<p> +"In appearance, yes; in effect most radically and fatally different--like +people," smiled Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +But though Kingozi's scientific interest was keen in certain directions--as ethnology, drugs, and zoology--it had totally blind spots. Thus the +Leopard Woman kept invariably on her table the bowl of fresh flowers; and +she manifested an unfailing liking to investigate such strange shrubs, +trees, flowers, or nondescript growths as flourished thereabouts. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know how one names these?" she asked him concerning certain +strange blooms. +</p> + +<p> +"I know nothing whatever about vegetables," he replied with indifferent +scorn. +</p> + +<p> +Several times after that, forgetting, she proffered the same question and +received exactly the same reply. Finally it became a joke to her. Slyly, +at sufficient intervals so that he should not become conscious of the +repetition, she took delight in eliciting this response, always the same, +always delivered with the same detached scorn: +</p> + +<p> +"I know nothing whatever about vegetables." +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime Simba, with great enthusiasm, continued his drill of the +<i>askaris</i>. Kingozi gave them an hour early in the day. They developed +rapidly from wild trigger yanking. An allowance of two cartridges apiece +proved them no great marksmen, but at least steady on discharge. +</p> + +<p> +The "business conversation" Kingozi projected with the Leopard Woman did +not take place until late in the week. By that time he had pieced together +considerable information, as follows: +</p> + +<p> +The mountain ranges at their backs possessed three practicable routes. +Beyond the ranges were grass plains with much game. Water could be had in +certain known places. No people dwell on these plains. This was because of +the tsetse fly that made it impossible to keep domestic cattle. Far--very +far--perhaps a month, who knows, is the country of the <i>sultani</i> M'tela. +This is a very great <i>sultani</i>--very great indeed--a <i>sultani</i> whose +spears are like the leaves of grass. His people are fierce, like the +Masai, like the people of Lobengula, and make war their trade. His people +are known as the Kabilagani. The way through the mountains is known; +guides can be had. The way across the plains is known; but for guides one +must find representatives of a little scattered plains tribe. That can be +done. <i>Potio</i> for two weeks can be had--and so on. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi was particularly interested in these Kabilaganis: and pressed for +as much information as he could. Strangely enough he did not mention the +ivory stockade, nor did he attempt either to trade or to determine whether +or not the <i>sultani</i> knew its value. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of eight days he knew what he wished to know. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall leave in two days," he told the Leopard Woman. "I should suggest +that you go to-morrow. I will send Simba with you to show you the water-hole in the kopje. After that you know the country for yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"But I am not going back!" she cried. "I am going on." +</p> + +<p> +"That is impossible." He went on to explain to her what he had learned of +the country ahead: omitting, however, all reference to M'tela and his +warrior nation. "More plains: more game. That's all. You have more of that +than you can use back where we came from. And with every step you are +farther away. I am going on--very far. I may not come back at all." +</p> + +<p> +She listened to all his arguments, but shook her head obstinately at their +end. +</p> + +<p> +"Your plan does not please me," said she. "I will go and see these plains +for myself." +</p> + +<p> +This was final, and Kingozi at last came to see it so. +</p> + +<p> +"I was going to suggest that I relieve you of your <i>askaris</i>," said he, +"but if you persist in this foolish and aimless plan, you will need them +for yourself." + +"Cannot we go together, at least for a distance?" +</p> + +<p> +But to this he was much opposed. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be travelling faster than your cumbersome safari," he objected. +"I could not delay." +</p> + +<p> +And in this decision he seemed as firm as had she in her intention to +proceed. After a light reconnaissance, so to speak, of argument, appeal, +and charm, she gave over trying to persuade him, and fell back on her +usual lazily indifferent attitude. Kingozi went ahead with his +preparations, laying in <i>potio</i>, examining kits, preparing in every way +his compact little caravan for the long journey before it. Then something +happened. He changed his mind and decided to combine safaris with the +Leopard Woman. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xiii">CHAPTER XIII</a></h2> + +<h3>THE TROPIC MOON</h3> + +<p> +For several nights the plain below the plateau had been a sea of +moonlight, white, ethereal, fragile as spun glass. Each evening the shadow +of the mountains had shortened, drawing close under the skirts of the +hills. In stately orderly progression the quality of the night world was +changing. The heavy brooding darkness was being transformed to a fairy +delicacy of light. +</p> + +<p> +And the life of the world seemed to feel this change, to be stirring, at +first feebly, then with growing strength. The ebb was passed; the tides +were rising to the brim. Each night the throb of the drums seemed to beat +more passionately, the rhythm to become quicker, wilder: the wailing +chants of the women rose in sudden gusts of frenzy. Dark figures stole +about in shadows; so that Kingozi, becoming anxious, gave especial +instructions, and delegated trusty men to see that they were obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +"If our men get to fooling with their women, they'll spear the lot of us!" +he explained. +</p> + +<p> +And at last, like a queen whose coming has been prepared, a queen in whose +anticipation life had quickened, the moon herself rose serenely above the +ranges. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately the familiar objects changed; the familiar shadows vanished. +The world became a different world, full of enchantment, of soft-singing +birds, of chirping insects, of romance and recollections of past years, of +longings and the spells of barbaric Africa. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi sat with the Leopard Woman "talking business" when this miracle +took place. When the great rim of the moon materialized at the mountain's +rim, he abruptly fell silent. The spell had him, as indeed it had all +living things. From the village the drums pulsed more wildly, shoutings of +men commenced to mingle with the voices of the women; a confused clashing +sound began to be heard. In camp the fires appeared suddenly to pale. A +vague uneasiness swept the squatting men. Their voices fell: they +exchanged whispered monosyllables, dropping their voices, they knew not +why. +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman arose and glided to the edge of the tree's shadow, where +she stood gazing upward at the moon. Kingozi watched her. He, old and +seasoned traveller as he was, had indeed fallen under the spell. He did +not consider it extraordinary, nor did it either embarrass or stir his +senses, that standing as she did before the moon and the little fires her +body showed in clear silhouette through her silken robe. Apparently this +was her only garment. It made a pale nimbus about her. She seemed to the +vague remnant of Kingozi's thinking perceptions like a priestess--her +slim, beautiful form erect, her small head bound with the golden fillet +from which, he knew, hung the jewel on her forehead. As though meeting +this thought she raised both arms toward the moon, standing thus for a +moment in the conventional attitude of invocation. Then she dropped her +arms, and came back to Kingozi's side. +</p> + +<p> +Again it was like magic, the sudden blotting out of the slim human figure, +the substitution of the draped form as she moved from the light into the +shadow. But on Kingozi's retina remained the vision of her as she was. He +shifted, caught his breath. +</p> + +<p> +As she came near him his hand closed over hers, bringing her to a halt. +She did not resist, but stood looking down at him waiting. He struggled +for an appearance of calm. +</p> + +<p> +"Who are you?" he asked unsteadily. "You have never told me." +</p> + +<p> +"You have named me--Bibi-ya-chui--the Woman of the Leopards." +</p> + +<p> +She was smiling faintly, looking down at him through half-closed eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"But who are you? You are not English." +</p> + +<p> +"My name: you have given it. Let that suffice. Me--I am Hungarian." She +stooped ever so slightly and touched the upstanding mop of his wavy hair. +"What does it matter else?" she asked softly. +</p> + +<p> +She was leaning: the moonlight came through the branches where she leaned; +the little fires--again the silken robes became a nimbus--and the drums of +the <i>n'goma</i>, the drums seemed to be throbbing in his veins---- +</p> + +<p> +He leaped to his feet and seized her savagely by the shoulders. The soft +silk slipped under his fingers. She threw back her head, looking at him +steadily. Her eyes glowed deep, and the jewel on her forehead. Kingozi was +panting. +</p> + +<p> +"You are wonderful--maddening!" he muttered. This sudden unexpected +emotion swept him away, as a pond, quiet behind the dam, becomes a flood. +</p> + +<p> +"I knew we could be such friends!" she said. +</p> + +<p> +And then one of those tiny incidents happened that so often change the +course of greater events. In the darkness that still lingered the other +side of the camp an <i>askari</i> challenged sharply some lurking wanderer. +According to his recent teaching he used the official word. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Samama!</i>" said he. +</p> + +<p> +The metallic rattle of his musket and the brief official challenge +awakened Kingozi as would a dash of cold water. His instinct to crush to +his breast this alluring, fascinating, willing goddess of the moon was as +strong as ever. But across that instinct lay the shadow of a former day. A +clear picture flashed before his mind. He saw a man in the uniform of a +high office, and heard that man's words of instruction to himself. The +words had concluded with a few informal phrases of trust and confidence. +While these were being spoken, outside a sentry had challenged: +"<i>Samama!</i>" and as he moved, the metal of his accoutrements had clicked. +</p> + +<p> +With a wrench Kingozi turned, dropping her shoulders. He deliberately ran +away. At the edge of his own camp he looked back. She was still standing +as he had left her. The moonlight, striking through the opening in the +branches, fell across her. At this distance she was merely a white figure; +but Kingozi saw her again as she had stood in invocation to the moon. As +though she had only awaited his turning, she raised her hand in grave +salutation and disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi was too restless, too stirred, to sit still. After a vain attempt +to smoke a quiet and ruminative pipe he arose and began to wander about. +The men looked up at him furtively from their little fires where +perpetually meat roasted. He strode on through the camp. His feet bore him +to the narrow lane leading to the village. Down the vista he saw flames +leaping, and figures leaping wildly, too, and the drums beat against his +temples. He turned back seeking quiet, and so on through camp again, and +past the Leopard Woman's tent. His mind was in a turmoil. No perception +reached him of outside things--once the disturbance of human creatures was +past. His feet led him unconsciously. +</p> + +<p> +It was the old struggle. He desired this woman mightily. That he had been +totally indifferent to her before argued nothing. He had been suddenly +awakened: and he was in the prime of life. But the very strength of his +desire warned him. If he had really been on a hunt for ivory--well--he +wrenched his mind savagely from even a contemplation of possibilities. +Still, it would be a very sweet relation in a lonely life--a women of this +quality, this desirability, this understanding, able to travel the +wilderness of Africa, eager for the life, young, beautiful, tingling with +vitality. In spite of himself Kingozi played with the thought. The fever +was in his brain, the magic of the tropic moon was flooding his soul. +</p> + +<p> +Some warning instinct brought him back to the world about him. His steps +had taken him down the cañon trail. He stood at the edge of the open +plain. +</p> + +<p> +Facing him and not twenty yards distant stood a lion. +</p> + +<p> +The sight cleared Kingozi's brain of all its vapours. For the first time +he realized clearly what he had done. He, a man whose continued existence +in this dangerous country had depended on his unfailing readiness, his +ever-present alertness and presence of mind, had committed two of the +cardinal sins. In savage Africa no man must at any time stir a foot into +the veldt or jungle unarmed; in savage Africa no man must go at night +fifty feet from a fire without a torch or lantern. +</p> + +<p> +By day a lion is usually harmless unless annoyed. Game herds manifest no +alarm at his presence, merely opening through their ranks a lane for his +indifferent passing. But at night he asserts his dominion. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi realized his deadly peril. The beast bulked huge and black--a wild +lion is a third larger than his menagerie relative--looking as big as a +zebra against the moonlight. His eyes glowed steadily as he contemplated +this interloper in his domain. After a moment he sank prone, extending his +head. The next move, Kingozi knew, would be the flail-like thrash of the +long tail, followed immediately by the rush. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing was to be done. The immediate surroundings were bare of trees, and +in any case the lightning charge of the beast would have caught his victim +unless the branches had happened to be fairly overhead. +</p> + +<p> +The glowing eyes lowered. A rasping gurgling began deep in the animal's +throat, rising and falling in tone with the inhaling and exhaling of the +breath. This increased in volume. It became terrifying. The long tail +stiffened, whacked first to one side, then to the other. The moment was at +hand. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi stood erect, his hands clenched, every muscle taut. All his senses +were sharpened. He heard the voices of the veldt, near and far, and all +the little sounds that were underneath them. His vision seemed to pierce +the darkness of the shadows, so that he made out the details of the lion's +mane, and even the muscles stiffening beneath the skin. +</p> + +<p> +And then at the last moment a kongoni, panic stricken, running blind, its +nose up, broke through the thin bush to the left and dashed across the +trail directly between the man and the lion. +</p> + +<p> +African animals are subject to these strange, blind panics, especially at +night. The individual so affected appears to lose all sense of its +surroundings. It has been known actually to bump into and knock down men +in plain and open sight. What had so terrified the kongoni it would be +impossible to say. Perhaps a stray breeze had wafted the scent of this +very lion; perhaps some other unseen danger actually threatened, or +perhaps the poor beast merely awakened from the horror of a too vivid +dream. +</p> + +<p> +The diversion occurred at the moment of the lion's greatest tension. His +body was poised for the attack, as a bow is bent to drive forth the arrow. +Probably without conscious thought on his part, instinctively, he changed +his objective. The huge body sprang; but instead of the man the kongoni +was struck down! +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi stooped low and ran hard to the left. When at a safe distance he +straightened his back, and set his footsteps rapidly campward. +</p> + +<p> +The incident had thoroughly awakened him. His brain was working clearly +now, and under forced draught. The magic of moonlight had lost its power. +Habits of years reasserted themselves. His usual iron common sense +regained its ascendency; though, strangely enough, there persisted in his +mind a mystic feeling for the symbolism of this missed danger. +</p> + +<p> +"Settles it!" he said, in his usual fashion of talking aloud. "I'm on a +job, and I must do it. Came near being a messy ass!" +</p> + +<p> +He saw plainly enough that a mission such as his had no place in it for +women--even such women as Bibi-ya-chui. She must go back--or stay here--didn't matter much which. The call of duty sounded very clear. By the time +he had reached the level of the upper plateau his mind was fully made up. +As far as he was concerned the Leopard Woman had definitely lost all +chance of going alone. +</p> + +<p> +The frosted moonlight still lay across the world. It meant nothing but +illumination to Kingozi. By its light he discerned a paper lying against a +bush; and since paper of any sort is scarce, he picked it up. +</p> + +<p> +At camp he lighted his lantern and spread out his find on the table. It +proved to be a map. +</p> + +<p> +A glance proved to Kingozi that it was not his property. He remembered a +sudden wind squall early in the afternoon. Evidently it had swept the +Leopard Woman's table. +</p> + +<p> +The map was in manuscript, very well drawn, and the text was German. From +long habit Kingozi glanced first at the scale of miles, then raised his +eyes to determine what country was represented. After a moment he arose, +took his lantern into his tent, and there spread his find on his cot. +</p> + +<p> +For it was a map of this very locality! +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi examined it with great attention, finally getting out for +comparison his own sketch maps. The German map was a more finished +product; otherwise they were practically the same. Kingozi searched for +and found records of the various waters along his back track. Each was +annotated in ink in a language strange to him--probably Hungarian, he +reflected. At the dry <i>donga</i> where he had overtaken and rescued the +Leopard Woman's water-starved safari he found the legend <i>wasser</i> also. +</p> + +<p> +"Explorations for this map made after the rains," he concluded. +</p> + +<p> +Here the Leopard Woman had written the German word <i>nein!</i> underscored +several times. +</p> + +<p> +So far Kingozi's sketches and the German map were the same. But the German +map furnished all details for some distance in advance. This village was +indicated, and the mountains, and plains beyond. The three practical +routes were plotted by means of red lines. These lines converged at the +far side of the ranges, united in one, and proceeded out across the +plains. Kingozi counted days' journeys by the indicated water-holes up to +eleven. Then the map ceased; but an arrow at the end of the red line was +explained by a compass bearing, and the name M'tela. And, as far as +Kingozi could see, the sole purport of the whole affair was not topography +but a route to the country of M'tela! +</p> + +<p> +Here was a facer! As far as any one knew, the country he had just +traversed was unexplored. Yet here was a good detailed map of just that +route. Furthermore, a copy was in the hands of this woman who claimed she +was out for sport merely, and had no knowledge of the country. Yes--she +had made just that statement. Of course she might be out merely for +adventure, just as she said. If she were of prominence and influence, she +might easily enough have obtained a copy of a private map. But then why +did she pretend ignorance? She seemed never to have heard of the name of +M'tela; yet this map's sole reason for being was that it indicated at +least the beginning of a route to M'tela's country. +</p> + +<p> +Could she be on the same errand as himself? +</p> + +<p> +That sounded fantastic. Kingozi reviewed the circumstances. M'tela was a +formidable myth, gradually taking shape as a reality. He was reported as a +mighty chief of distant borders. Tales of ten thousand spears drifted back +to official attention. Allowing the usual discount, M'tela still loomed as +a powerful figure. Nobody had paid very much attention to him until this +time, but now his distant border had become important. Through it a new +road from the north was projected. The following year the route was to be +explored. The friendship of M'tela and his umpty-thousand spears became +important. His hostility could cause endless trouble and delay. Kingozi's +present job was to lay the foundations for this friendship. +</p> + +<p> +"You have a free hand, Culbertson," the very high official had said to +him. "We are not going to suggest or advise. Choose your own men; take as +many or as few as you please. Take your own time and your own methods. But +get the results." +</p> + +<p> +"I appreciate your confidence, sir," Kingozi had replied. +</p> + +<p> +"You and that man Winkleman are the best hands on earth with natives, and +we know it. Requisition what you want." +</p> + +<p> +This woman was a Hungarian: she possessed a German official map. Could she +be on official business? It did not seem likely. Women are not much good +at that sort of thing in Africa. What official business could she be on? +The same as his own? That seemed still more unlikely; but if so, why +should they not work together? Germany and England had an equal stake in +the opening of this new route. An amical Boundary Commission had just +completed a satisfactory survey between the German and British East +African Protectorates. But she had lied to him, and she had acted lies of +apparent ignorance! Why that? +</p> + +<p> +Having examined the subject from all sides, and having discovered it as +yet incapable of solution, Kingozi, characteristically, decided to go +slow. If she were on the same mission as himself, that fact would develop +in due time, and then they could work together. If she were still on some +mission, but a mission other than his own, that fact, too, would in due +time develop. If she were merely travelling in idle curiosity--well, she +ought not to lie! +</p> + +<p> +For Kingozi had changed his mind. No longer was he determined that she +must turn back at this point. Now he was equally determined that she must +accompany him. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll keep an eye on you, young woman," said he. "You pretend to be very +eager to go on with me. We'll see! But now you'll find it difficult to +quit this game. You may get more of it than you bargained for. If you are +really out just for sport and curiosity, I'm sorry for you. But you +shouldn't lie!" +</p> + +<p> +He copied the map roughly; then returned it to the spot under the bushes +where he had found it. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning he announced to the Leopard Woman his changed decision. He +was self-contained and direct. She smiled secretly to herself. She thought +she understood both the change of decision and the brusqueness. One was +the magic of the tropic moon; the other was the shy, half-ashamed reaction +of the strong man whose emotions have controlled him. The proof--that she +was going with him. +</p> + +<p> +She was wrong! +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xiv">CHAPTER XIV</a></h2> + +<h3>OVER THE RANGES</h3> + +<p> +When the day came for departure the Leopard Woman was indisposed, and +could not travel. At the end of that period eight bags of <i>potio</i> +disappeared. They had to be replaced. Kingozi occupied the time on the +details of his preparations. Then three men deserted, and all loads had to +be redistributed. At last they were off. +</p> + +<p> +A horde of savages accompanied them at first. These dropped off one by one +until there remained only the guides appointed. The trail led steeply +upward. It soon shook free of the thorn tangle and debouched on grassy +rolling shoulders from which a wide, maplike view could be seen of the +country through which they had passed. Shortly they skirted a deep deft +cañon in which sang a brook; and at its head came to a forest. The trees +were tall, their cover dense; long, ropelike vines hung in festoons. It +was very still. A colobus barked somewhere in the tops; the small green +monkeys swung from limb to limb, or scampered along the rope vines, +chattering. Silent, gaudy birds swooped across dusky spaces. The dripping +of water reached the ear; the smell of dampness the nostrils. +</p> + +<p> +This was as far as they went the first day. The climb had been severe; and +at the end of three and a half hours the woman announced that she was done +up. Nothing remained but to make camp. This was done, therefore; and all +the afternoon Kingozi lay flat on the cot he had caused to be brought into +the open air, and blew smoke upward, and stared at the maze of limbs in +the forest roof. The Leopard Woman kept her tent; but he did not offer to +disturb her. He was thinking. +</p> + +<p> +Next day they marched for hours through the forest, and at last came out +on more rolling grass shoulders. Evidently this side of the mountains was +not abrupt, but slanted off in a gentle slope to unknown distances. There +the game began to reappear; and Kingozi dropped two hartebeeste for the +safari. Here Cazi Moto came up in great perturbation to announce that two +of the <i>memsahib's</i> porters were missing. The little headman did not +understand how it happened, as he had zealously brought up the rear. +Unless, of course, it was a case of desertion. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi looked thoughtful, then ordered camp to be pitched. Accompanied by +Simba, Mali-ya-bwana, and three <i>askaris</i> he took the back track. At the +end of an hour and a half of brisk walking he met the two missing porters. +Their explanation was voluble. They had fallen out for a few moments, and +when they had resumed their loads, the safari was ahead. Then they had +hastened, but the road had divided. They had taken the wrong fork. +</p> + +<p> +"Show me where the road divided," ordered Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +The loads were deposited by the side of the trail, and the delinquents, +with every appearance of confidence, led the way back another hour's march +to a veritable fork. Kingozi examined the earth for tracks. +</p> + +<p> +"Could you not see that the safari had gone this way and not that way?" he +asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>," they said together; "we saw it after a little. That is why +we came back." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi grunted, but said nothing. The nine men retraced their steps. Both +porters were on a broad grin, laughing and talking in subdued tones to the +<i>askaris</i>. The <i>bwana</i> strode on rapidly ahead. They followed at a little +dogtrot, carrying their loads easily. +</p> + +<p> +At camp Kingozi ordered them to place the loads in place beneath the +tarpaulin. +</p> + +<p> +"Simba," said he in a casual voice, "these men get <i>kiboko</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>. How many?" +</p> + +<p> +"Fifty." +</p> + +<p> +The bystanders gasped, and the shining countenances of the culprits turned +a sickly gray. Fifty lashes is a maximum punishment, inflicted only for +the gravest crimes. More cannot be administered without fear of grave +consequences. The offence of straggling is generally considered not +serious. Even Simba was not certain he had heard aright. +</p> + +<p> +"How many, <i>bwana</i>?" he asked again. +</p> + +<p> +"Fifty," repeated Kingozi tonelessly, and turned his blank, baleful glare +in their direction. +</p> + +<p> +The punishment was administered. When it was finished the porters, shaking +like leaves, blankets drawn over their bleeding flanks, were brought to +face the white man seated in his chair. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bassi</i>," he pronounced. The word went out into a dead silence, so that +it was heard to the farthest confines of the hushed camp. "Let no man +hereafter miss the trail." +</p> + +<p> +He arose and entered his tent. Cazi Moto was there, unfolding the canvas +bath tub, laying out the clean clothes. He looked up from his occupation, +his wizened face contorted in a shrewd smile. +</p> + +<p> +"No more will we make camp when the sun is only a few hours high," he +surmised. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +"You and I have handled many safaris, Cazi Moto," he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Delays from these causes ceased, but other delays supervened. Never were +the reasons for them attributable to accident; but they were more numerous +than ordinarily. Kingozi said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +All the day's march he walked fifty yards ahead of the long procession. +The Leopard Woman walked part of the time; part of the time she rode a +donkey procured from the <i>sultani</i>. The two necessarily held little +converse during the day. At camp Kingozi had many tasks--camp to arrange, +meat to procure, sick to doctor, guides to interrogate. Only at the +evening meal, which now they shared, did he and his travelling companion +resume their intimacies. +</p> + +<p> +The relation had developed into a curious one. For one thing, it was more +expansive. They discussed many subjects of what might be called general +interest, talking interestedly on books, world politics, colonial +policies, even the larger problems of life. In these discussions they +explored each other's intelligence, came to a mental approachment, a cold, +clear respect for each other's capacity and experience. Never did they +approach the personal. At no time in their acquaintance had they talked so +unrestrainedly, so freely, with so much genuine pleasure; at no time did +they touch so little the mysteries of personality. +</p> + +<p> +If the Leopard Woman felt this, or wondered at the cloaked withdrawal, she +gave no sign. Apparently she was all candour. She seemed to throw herself +frankly and with pleasure into this relationship of the head, to have +forgotten the possibilities so richly though so momentarily disclosed by +the magic of the moon. She lounged in her canvas chair, twisting her lithe +body within her silks; she smoked her cigarettes; the jewel of changing +lights glowed on her forehead; she talked in her modulated voice and +quaint, precise English. The man's pulses remained calm. His eyes did not +miss the beauty of her form, as frankly defined beneath the silk as the +forms of the naked <i>bibis</i> of the village; nor the alluring paleness of +her face in contrast to the red lips; nor the drowning passion of her wide +eyes. But they did not reach his senses. Were the insulation of his plain +duty--which to Kingozi meant quite sincerely his whole excuse for +existence in this puzzling life--were this to be withdrawn--he never even +contemplated the thought. Reminders from that night of the moon prevented +him from doing so. +</p> + +<p> +After this fashion they came to the grass plains of the uplands. Here +ensued more delays. These did not spring from delinquencies in the safari: +the exemplary punishment assured that. But things broke, and things were +forgotten, and things had to be done differently. The guides, procured +with difficulty from the little hunting peoples of the plain, disappeared +at the end of the second day. They professed themselves afraid of Chaké, +the Nubian. The latter vehemently denied having spoken a word to them. +Day's marches were shortened because the woman could not stand long ones. +Kingozi found it a great bother to travel with a woman. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, he made no attempts to separate the safaris. He had been +watching closely. These difficulties, the delays, breakages, and +abbreviations of day's journeys had, nine times out of ten, their origin +in the camp of the Leopard Woman. In ordinary circumstances he would have +put this down to inferior organization. But there was the mysterious, +unmentioned map, whose accuracy, by the way, he found exact. Gradually he +came to the conclusion that the delays were not entirely accidental. The +conclusion became a conviction that the Leopard Woman was making as much +of a drag and as big a nuisance of herself as possible. +</p> + +<p> +Why? +</p> + +<p> +She wanted to become such a burden that Kingozi would go on without her. +Again, why? At the village she had vehemently refused to go back, and had +pleaded to join forces with Kingozi. This puzzled him for some time. Then +he saw. Of course she did not want to turn back. If, as he surmised, she +had some errand with M'tela, like his own, she would not want to turn +back, but she would like a plausible excuse to separate from him once the +ranges of mountains were crossed. Why did she not drop off then on the +excuse, say, of the wonderful new hunting grounds? That would be simple. +Kingozi concluded that she wished the initiative to come from him. And the +more convinced he was that she wanted to get rid of him, the more firmly +he resolved that she must remain. +</p> + +<p> +But it did make for slow travel. +</p> + +<p> +What of it? There was no haste. There was plenty of game, the days passed +pleasantly, the evenings were delightful. A moonbeam flashed in his brain +showing him vistas----He firmly shut the window! +</p> + +<p> +Certainly if Bibi-ya-chui harboured any active desire to drive Kingozi +into leaving her to her own devices, she concealed it well. Occasionally +in the evening, when he stared into the distance, she twisted herself to +look at him. Then her eyes widened, no one could have told with what +emotion. In her fixed stare could have been many things--or nothing. Did +she desire this man, as she had seemed to the night of the full moon, and +did she but bide her time, knowing this was not the moment? Did she desire +this man, and hate him because he had touched her only to turn away? Did +the very simplicity and directness of his nature baffle her? Did she hate +him for his mastering of circumstances but not herself? Any or all of +these emotions might have lain beneath the smoulder in her eyes. One thing +Kingozi would not have seen, had he turned his head suddenly enough, and +that was indifference. But he continued to stare out into the veldt, and +she continued to stare at him; while around them the chatter of men, the +wail of hyenas, the thunder of lions, the shrill, thin cries of night +birds, and the mighty brooding silence that took no account of them all +attended the African night. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xv">CHAPTER XV</a></h2> + +<h3>THE SHARPENING OF THE SPEAR</h3> + +<p> +Thus passed six weeks. By the end of this time the combined safaris had +progressed out into the unknown country about a normal three weeks' +journey. The rest was delay. +</p> + +<p> +They had ventured out into the plain as into an enchanted sea. The +mountains had dropped below the horizon behind them; none had as yet +arisen before. The veldt ran in long, low undulations, so that always they +walked up or down gentle slopes. It was as though a ground swell had set +in toward distant, invisible shores. Here the short grass was still green +from the rains. Water lay in pools at the bottom of <i>dongas</i>. By this good +fortune travel was independent of the permanent water, and hence safe and +easy. Game was everywhere. Not for a single hour in all that six weeks +were they out of sight of it. Scattered over the sward like deer in a pack +the beasts grazed placidly in twos or threes, or in great bands. Without +haste, almost imperceptibly, they drew aside to allow the safari to pass, +and closed in again behind it. Thus the travellers were always the centre +of a little moving oasis of clear space five hundred yards in diameter. +Occasionally some unusual and unexpected crease in the earth or density of +brush in the <i>dongas</i> brought them in surprise fairly atop an unsuspecting +herd. Then ensued a wild stampede. This communicated itself visually to +all the animals in sight. They moved off swiftly. And then still other +remote beasts, unaware of the cause of disturbance, quite out of sight of +the safari, but signalled by twinkle of stripe or flash of rump, also took +flight. So that far over the veldt, at last, the game hordes shifted +uneasily until the impulse died. +</p> + +<p> +In this country were many lions. Most of the requisites of a lion were +here present--abundant game, water, the cover of the low brush in the +<i>dongas</i>. Only lacked a few rocky kopje fastnesses to make it ideal; but +that lack could be, and was, overlooked. The members of the safari often +saw the great beasts sunning themselves atop ant hills; walking with +dignity across the open country; sitting on their haunches to stare with +great yellow eyes at these strangers passing by. Here they had never been +annoyed or hunted; so here they had not become as strictly nocturnal as +nearer settlement. In all their magnificence they stalked abroad, lords of +the veldt. Kingozi's finger itched for the trigger. There is no more +exciting sport than that of lion shooting afoot. It is a case of kill or +be killed; for a lion, once the issue is joined, never gives up. He fights +literally to the death; and when he is so crippled that he can no longer +keep his feet, he drags himself forward, and dies facing his opponent +dauntlessly. No other beast furnishes the same danger, the same thrill. +His mere appearance stirs the most sluggish spirit. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Simba! Simba! Simba!</i>" the exclamation ran back the line of the safari, +the sibilant hissed excitedly. Kingozi's heart bounded, and his knuckles +whitened as he gripped his rifle. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bwana hapana piga?</i>" Simba implored. "Is not <i>bwana</i> going to shoot?" +</p> + +<p> +But Kingozi shook his head. The temptation was strong, but he resisted it. +He refrained from shooting at the lions for exactly the same reason that +he had insulated himself against the Leopard Woman's charms. +</p> + +<p> +In all this wide country were no settled habitations. Your African native +requires hills or forests; he will not dwell on open plains at any great +distance from his natural protection. A few people there were, hunters and +nomads, living on wild honey and game. They were solitaries and lived +where night found them, a little race, shyer than the game. For days and +days they flanked the safari before venturing to approach. Then one would +appear a hundred yards away and open shouted negotiations with the +porters. Perhaps after a few hours he would venture into camp. Invariably +Kingozi interrogated these people. They stood before him palpitating like +birds, poised, tense for flight. He asked them of water, of people, of +routes. By means of kind treatment and little presents he tried to gain +their confidence. Sometimes thus he induced them to talk freely, but never +did he succeed in persuading them to guide him. The mere fact of +interrogation rendered them uneasy. Probably they could not themselves +have understood that uneasiness; but invariably at nightfall they +disappeared. They made fire by the rubbing of sticks, shot poisoned arrows +at game. +</p> + +<p> +From them Kingozi gained little but chatter. They knew accurately every +permanent water, to be sure. This information, in view of the abundance of +rain pools, was not at present valuable; nevertheless Kingozi questioned +them minutely, and made many marks on the map he was preparing. Always he +mentioned M'tela. At first he introduced the name at any time in the +course of the interview; but soon he found that this dried up all +information. So then he reserved that subject for the last. They were +afraid of the very syllables. They spoke them under their breaths, with +side glances. M'tela was a great lord; a lord of terror, to be feared. +</p> + +<p> +At first the information was most vague. M'tela was over yonder--a long +distance--who knows how far? He possessed more or less mythical +characteristics, ranging from a height of forty or fifty feet down to the +mere possession of a charm by which he could kill at a distance. Then, as +the journey went on, the vagueness began to define. M'tela took form as a +big man with a voice like the lion at night. His surroundings began to be +described. He lived in the edge of a forest; his people were many; he had +forty wives, and the like. Still it was far, very far. Kingozi concluded +that none of these people had in person visited the Kabilagani, but were +talking at second hand. +</p> + +<p> +And finally direct information came to him--in the form of fear. M'tela +was a great lord, a lord of many spears, his hand was heavy, he took what +he desired, his warriors were fierce and cruel and could not be gainsaid. +Told under the breath, with furtive glances to right and to left. And not +far: a three days' journey. Kingozi translated this into terms of safari +travel and made it about eight days. And, indeed, though no mountains as +yet raised their peaks above the horizon, fleets of clouds setting sail +from the distant ranges winged their way joyously down a growing wind. +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman fell ill and kept her tent. Kingozi waited two days, +then sought her out. His patience over delay was about gone. The headaches +to which physical exhaustions always made him subject had annoyed him +greatly of late, had rendered him irritable. His eyes bothered him--a +reflex from his run-down condition, he thought, combined with a slight +inflammation due to the glare of sun or yellowing grass. Boracic acid +helped very little. The halo he had noticed around the light that evening +when they had first arrived at the <i>sultani's</i> village returned. He saw it +about every campfire, every lantern flame, even around the brightest of +the stars. Altogether he approached the interview in a strongly impatient +mood. +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman lay abed beneath silken sheets. This was the first time +Kingozi had ever seen sheets of any kind on any kind of a safari. In +reality the Leopard Woman was an enticing, luring vision, but Kingozi, +through the lenses of his mood, saw only the silkiness and "sheetiness" of +those covers. He began to comprehend the numerous tin boxes. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm going to leave you here and push on," he began abruptly. "You will be +all right with the men I shall leave you. When you feel able to do so, +follow on. I'll leave a plain trail." +</p> + +<p> +She objected feebly; but immediately, seeing that this would not touch his +mood, she asked him the reason of his haste. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll tell you," he replied, "about a week distant is a chief named +M'tela. Did you ever hear of him?" +</p> + +<p> +"M'tela?" she repeated the name thoughtfully. "No--but I don't know much +about native tribes." +</p> + +<p> +Remembering her map Kingozi's lips compressed under his beard. What +earthly object could she have in lying?--unless her errand was as secret +as his own. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, he is described as being very powerful. And of course he will hear +of us. It is well to make friends with him before he has had a chance to +think us over too long. I'll just go on and see him." +</p> + +<p> +"When will you start?" she asked, conceding the point without discussion. +</p> + +<p> +"To-morrow morning. I shall make the distance in about five days, +probably: you should be able to do so in eight or ten. How are you feeling +to-day?" +</p> + +<p> +"Better. I wondered would you ask." +</p> + +<p> +He picked up her wrist. +</p> + +<p> +"Pulse seems steady. Any fever?" +</p> + +<p> +"A little early and late." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, keep on with the hydrochlorate. You'll pull out in a day or so." +</p> + +<p> +But the Leopard Woman pulled out in a second or so after Kingozi's +departure. As soon as he was safe away, she threw back the covers and +swung to the edge of the cot. At her call Chaké, the Nubian, appeared. To +him she immediately began to give emphatic directions, repeating some of +them over and over vehemently. He bent his fuzzy head listening, his +yellow eyeballs showing, his fang-like teeth exposed in a grin of +comprehension. When she had finished he nodded, said a few words in his +own tongue, and glided from the tent. +</p> + +<p> +At his own camp he stooped and picked up a weapon. This was a spear, and +belonged to him personally. He had brought it all the way from Nubia. It +differed from any of the native spears of East Africa both in form and in +weight. Its blade was broad and shaped like a leaf; its haft was of wood; +and its heel was shod with only the briefest length of iron. Chaké kept +this spear in a high state of polish, so that its metal shone like silver. +He lifted it, poised it, made as though to throw it, to thrust with it. +Then with a sigh of renunciation he laid it aside. From behind one of the +porters' tents he took another spear, one typical of this country that had +been traded for only a day or two before. This Chaké considered clumsy and +unnecessarily heavy. Nevertheless he bore it out into the long grass where +he squatted in concealment; and, producing a stone, began painstakingly to +sharpen the point and edges. As the slow labour went on he seemed to work +himself gradually to a pitch of excitement. A little crooning song began +to rise and fall, to flow and ebb. His eyes flashed, his back bent to a +tense crouch. Every few moments he dashed the spear against an imaginary +shield, poised it, thrust with it strongly, the chant rising. Then +abruptly his voice fell, his muscles relaxed, he resumed the rythmical +whetting with the stone. +</p> + +<p> +All afternoon he squatted, passing the stone over the steel; polishing +long after the point and edges were as sharp as they could be made. When +the sun grew large at the world's edge he threw himself flat on his belly +and wormed his way to a position a few yards from Kingozi's tent. There he +left the spear. When he had gained a spot a hundred yards away, he arose +to his feet and walked quietly into camp. A moment later he was sitting on +his heels before his fire, eating his evening meal. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xvi">CHAPTER XVI</a></h2> + +<h3>THE MURDER</h3> + +<p> +That night Kingozi was restless and could not sleep. His vision had been +blurring badly during the day, and now his eyeballs ached as though they +had been seared. After his solitary evening meal he wandered about +restlessly, gripping his pipe strongly between his teeth. Shortly after +dark he entered his tent with the idea of turning in early; but the pain +drove him out again. He remained only long enough to substitute his +mosquito boots for his day boots. The Nubian, lying in the long grass +beside the newly sharpened spear, settled himself to wait. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi's figure lost itself among the men of the camp. The strong, clean +wind that blew every day from distant ranges, was falling with the night. +A breath of coolness came with it. Chaké shivered and wished he had +brought his blanket. The time was very long; but back of Chaké were +generations of men who had lain patiently in wait. He gripped the haft of +the heavy spear. +</p> + +<p> +Black night descended in earnest. The little fires were dying down. Still +Kingozi, tortured by his headache, wandered about. Upward of two hours +passed. Then at last the crouching Nubian saw dimly the silhouette of the +white man returning, caught in the glimmer of coals the colour of the +khaki coat he wore. The moment was at hand. Chaké arose to his knees, his +spear in his right hand. As soon as his victim should lie down on the cot, +it was his intention to thrust him through the canvas. It must be +remembered that the cot was placed close to the wall, and that the body of +the sleeper was defined against it. +</p> + +<p> +But unexpectedly the wearer of the khaki coat passed the tent door and +proceeded to the rear where he reached upward to the rear guy rope where +hung a towel, or some such matter. This brought him to within four feet of +the kneeling Nubian, the broad of his back exposed, both arms upraised. +Without hesitation Chaké drove the spear into his back. The sharp long +blade slipped through the flesh as easily as a hot knife into butter. The +murdered man choked once and pitched forward headlong on his face. Chaké, +leaving the weapon, glided swiftly away. +</p> + +<p> +Once well beyond the chance of a fire glimmer he arose to his feet and +quickly regained his own camp. This was exactly on the opposite side of +the circle. The four men with whom he shared his tiny cotton tent, +<i>askaris</i> all as beseemed his dignity, were sound asleep. He squatted on +his heels, pushed together the embers of his fire, staring into the coals. +His ugly face was as though carved from ebony. Only his wild savage eyes +glowed and flashed with a brooding lambent flame; and his wide nostrils +slowly expanded and contracted as though with some inner heaving emotion. +</p> + +<p> +Thus he sat for perhaps ten minutes. Then on the opposite side of the +circle a commotion began. Some one cried out, figures ran to and fro, +commands were given, brands were snatched from dying fires, torches were +lit. Elsewhere, all about camp, sleepers were sitting up, were asking one +another what was the matter. The <i>askaris</i> in Chaké's tent grumbled, and +turned over, and asked what it was all about. Chaké shook his mop of hair, +staring into the fire. +</p> + +<p> +From the Leopard Woman's tent came a sharp summons. The Nubian arose and +stalked boldly across the open space. At the closed tent he scratched his +fingernail respectfully against the canvas. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Karibu, karibu!</i>" summoned his mistress impatiently. He slipped between +the flaps and stood inside. +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman was seated upright in her cot. On the tin box near the +head of the bed burned a candle in a mica lantern. By its dim light her +face looked paler than ever, and deep black circles seemed to have defined +themselves under her eyes. The Nubian and the white woman stared at each +other for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +"It is done?" she asked finally, in a hoarse whisper. +</p> + +<p> +"It is done, <i>memsahib</i>," he replied calmly. +</p> + +<p> +For another pause she stared at him, her eyes widening. "You have done +well. <i>Bassi!</i>" she enunciated at last. +</p> + +<p> +The tent flaps still quivered behind the Nubian's exit, when she threw +herself face downward on the cot. Her body shook with convulsive dry sobs. +After a moment she twisted on her side. Both hands clutched her throat, as +though she strangled for air. Her eyes were round and rolling. It was as +if some mighty pent force were struggling for release. Suddenly the +release came. She began to weep, the tears streaming down her face. +Shortly she commenced to mutter little short disjointed phrases in her own +language. She wrung her hands. +</p> + +<p> +"I had to do it!" she gasped in German. "I had to do it! It was the only +way! Tell me it was the only way!" she seemed to appeal to some one +invisible. And then she resumed her lament in the Hungarian. +</p> + +<p> +But all at once something dried this emotion as the sear of a flame would +dry water over which it passed. The tears ceased, her eyes flashed, she +jerked her body upright, listening. The commotion of pursuit and +investigation was sweeping past her tent. +</p> + +<p> +Distinctly she heard the voice of Kingozi giving commands. +</p> + +<p> +An instant later Chaké darted into the tent and fell to the ground. His +face was the sickly gray of a negro in terror, his eyes rolled in his +head, his teeth chattered, his every muscle trembled. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Memsahib! Memsahib!</i>" he gasped. +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes were blazing with an anger the more fierce in that some of it was +reaction. +</p> + +<p> +"Fool!" she spat at him. +</p> + +<p> +"I killed him, <i>memsahib!</i> I drove the <i>shenzi</i> spear through his back! I +left him lying there! He is a god! He has come back from the dead!" +</p> + +<p> +"Fool!" she repeated, and swung her feet to the floor. "Stay here! Do not +go out!" she commanded, when she had assumed her mosquito boots. She +slipped out between the tent flaps. +</p> + +<p> +Torches were everywhere flickering about. She stopped one of the men as he +passed. +</p> + +<p> +"A <i>shenzi</i> has killed Mavrouki with a spear," the man answered her +question. +</p> + +<p> +She stood for some time watching the torches. Then she saw Kingozi himself +take his place by the pile of loads. +</p> + +<p> +"Fall in!" he commanded sharply. +</p> + +<p> +She returned to her tent. +</p> + +<p> +"Here!" she addressed the crouching Nubian. "It is as I said. You have +been a fool. You have killed a porter by mistake. Now the <i>bwana</i> has +ordered to <i>fall in</i>. He wishes to see if any are missing. Go take your +place, and answer to your name." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, <i>memsahib!</i> Oh, <i>memsahib!</i>" the man was groaning. +</p> + +<p> +"Go, I say!" she cried. "And hold up your head. If this is suspected of +you, you will surely die." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi called the roll by the light of a replenished fire. +</p> + +<p> +As each man was named, he was required to step forward to undergo +Kingozi's scrutiny. +</p> + +<p> +Most were uneasy, many were excited. Kingozi passed them rapidly in +review. But when Chaké came forward, he paused in the machine-like +regularity of his inspection. +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo, my bold buccaneer," said he in English, "what ails you?" +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman had drawn near. Kingozi glanced at her over his +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"I know these Fuzzy-Wuzzies pretty well," he remarked. "This man has the +blood look in his eye." +</p> + +<p> +"He's been sick all day," she ventured. +</p> + +<p> +"Sick, eh? Have you had him about you all evening?" +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman hesitated the least appreciable portion of a second. +</p> + +<p> +"No," she answered, "he was sick; I let him sleep in his own camp." +</p> + +<p> +She withdrew a pace, almost as though washing her hands of the affair. +Kingozi whirled and levelled his forefinger at the Nubian. +</p> + +<p> +"Why did you use a <i>shenzi</i> spear?" he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +Over Chaké's face had come the blank, lifeless expression of the obstinate +savage. Kingozi recognized it, and knew that further interrogation was a +matter of much time and patience. His eyes and head ached cruelly. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well," he answered the Nubian's unspoken opposition. "You'll keep. +Simba, get me the hand irons and the leg irons. Guard this man. To-morrow +we will look into it." He turned away without waiting to see his commands +carried out. "I've got a beastly headache," he remarked to Bibi-ya-chui. +"This affair--this whole affair--will keep. Cazi Moto, I want two men with +guns--my men--to stand by my tent, one in front, one in the rear." +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman watched his drooping, wearied form making its way to his +tent. He walked shuffling, almost stumbling. The habitual masking stare of +her eyes changed. Something softer, almost yearning, crept into them. When +the tent flaps had fallen behind him she threw both arms aloft in a +splendid tragic gesture, careless of the staring men. Her face was +convulsed by strong emotion. She turned and fled to her own tent, where +she threw herself face down on her cot. +</p> + +<p> +"It must be done! It must be done!" she groaned to her pillow. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xvii">CHAPTER XVII</a></h2> + +<h3>THE DARKNESS</h3> + +<p> +Kingozi retired again to his cot; but for a long time he could not get to +sleep. Little things annoyed him. A fever owl in a thorn tree somewhere +nearby called over and over again monotonously, hurriedly, without pause, +without a break in rhythm. Kingozi knew that the bird would thus continue +all night long, and he tried to adjust his mind to the fact, but failed. +It seemed beyond human comprehension that any living creature could keep +up steadily so breathless a performance. Some of the men were chatting in +low voices. Ordinarily he would not have heard them at all; now they +annoyed him. He stood it as long as he could, then shouted "<i>Kalele!</i>" at +them in so fierce a tone that the human silence was dead and immediate. +But this made prominent other lesser noises. Kingozi's headache was worse. +He tossed and turned, but at last fell into a half-waking stupor. +</p> + +<p> +He was brought to full consciousness by the entrance of Cazi Moto. He +opened his eyes. It was still night--a very black night, evidently, for +not a ray of light entered the tent. +</p> + +<p> +"What time is it, Cazi Moto?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Five o'clock, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +It was time to rise if a march was to be undertaken. Kingozi waited a +moment impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +"Why do you not light the candle?" he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +"The candle is lighted, <i>bwana</i>" replied Cazi Moto, with a slight tone of +surprise. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi reached his outspread hand across to his tin box. His fingers +encountered a flame, and were slightly scorched. He lay back and closed +his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"The men have struck their tents?" he asked Cazi Moto after a moment. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>, all is prepared." +</p> + +<p> +Then there must be a dozen little fires, and the tent must be filled with +flickering reflections. Kingozi lay for some time, thinking. He could hear +Cazi Moto moving about, arranging clothes and equipment. When by the +sounds Kingozi knew that the task was finished and Cazi Moto about to +depart, he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall not make safari to-day," he said. Cazi Moto stopped. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bwana?</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"We shall not make safari to-day." +</p> + +<p> +Cazi Moto's mind adjusted itself to this new decision. Then, without +comment, he glided out to reverse all his arrangements. +</p> + +<p> +Left alone Kingozi lay on his back and bent his will power to getting +control of the situation. +</p> + +<p> +He was blind. +</p> + +<p> +At first the mere thought sent so numbing a chill through all his +faculties that he needed the utmost of his fortitude to prevent an +insensate and aimless panic. Gradually he gained control of this. +</p> + +<p> +Then he groped for the candle. By experiment he found that at a distance +of a foot or so the illumination registered. Then there was no paralysis +of the nerve itself. Desperately he marshalled his unruly thoughts, +striving to look back into the remote past of his student days. Fragments +of knowledge came to him, but nothing on which to build a theory of what +was wrong. +</p> + +<p> +"It's mechanical; it's mechanical," he muttered over and over to himself, +but could not seem to progress beyond this point. All he could conclude +was that it was <i>not</i> ophthalmia or trachoma. He had seen a good deal of +these two plagues of Egypt, and their symptoms were absent here. He +concentrated until his mind was weary, and his will slipped. At last in +despair he relaxed and in an unconscious gesture rubbed his eyes with his +forefingers and thumbs. The contact brought him to with a jerk. +</p> + +<p> +The eyeballs, instead of feeling soft and velvety under the lids, were as +hard as marbles. +</p> + +<p> +The shock of this phenomenon rang a bell in his memory. A distinct picture +came to him of his classroom and old Doctor Stokes. He could fairly hear +the slow, impressive voice. +</p> + +<p> +"There is one symptom," the past was saying to him, "one symptom, young +gentlemen, that is not always present; but when present establishes the +diagnosis beyond any doubt. I refer to a peculiar hardening of the eyeball +itself----" +</p> + +<p> +"Glaucoma!" cried Kingozi aloud. +</p> + +<p> +His thoughts, like hounds on a trail, raced off after this new scent. +Desperately he tried to recollect. In snatches he captured knowledge. Of +its accuracy he was sometimes in doubt; but little by little that doubt +grew less. To change the figure, the latent images of his past science +developed slowly, like the images on a photographic plate. +</p> + +<p> +Glaucoma--a hardening, an enlarging of the pupil, a change in the shape +and consistency of the iris--yes, he had it fairly well. Treatment? Let's +see--an operation on the iris, delicate. That was it. Impossible, of +course. But there was something else, a temporary expedient, until the +surgeon could be reached--an undue expansion of the pupil---- +</p> + +<p> +"Why," shouted Kingozi aloud, sitting up in bed. "Pilocarpin, of course!" +</p> + +<p> +What luck! He fervently blessed the shortage of phenacetin that had forced +him to take pilocarpin as a sweating substitute for fever. +</p> + +<p> +"Cazi Moto!" he called. Then, as the headman hurried up: "Get me the box +of medicines, quick!" +</p> + +<p> +He waited until he heard the little man reenter the tent. +</p> + +<p> +"Place it here," he commanded. "Now go." +</p> + +<p> +He groped for the case, opened it---- +</p> + +<p> +The bottles it contained were all of the same shape. He remembered that +the pilocarpin was at the right-hand end--or was it the left? Hastily he +uncorked the left-hand bottle, and was immediately reassured. It contained +tablets. The right-hand bottle, on the contrary, held the typical small +crystals. But a doubt assailed him. At the same end of the case were the +receptacles also of the atropin and the morphia. He remembered the Leopard +Woman's remarking how much alike they all were. Kingozi seemed to see +plainly in his mind's eye the precise arrangement, to visualize even the +exact appearance of the labels on the bottles--first the morphia, next to +it the pilocarpin, and last the atropin. But while he contemplated this +mental image, it shifted. The pilocarpin and atropin changed places. And +this latter recollection seemed as distinct to him as the first had been. +</p> + +<p> +He fingered the three bottles, his brows bent. And across his mental +travail floated another thought that brought him up all standing. +</p> + +<p> +Pilocarpin and atropin had exactly the opposite effect. +</p> + +<p> +"Here, this won't do!" he said aloud. "If I get the wrong stuff in my eyes +it will destroy them permanently." +</p> + +<p> +He raised his voice for Cazi Moto. +</p> + +<p> +"When Bibi-ya-chui is awake," he told the headman, "I want to see her. +Tell her to come." +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xviii">CHAPTER XVIII</a></h2> + +<h3>THE LEOPARD WOMAN CHANGES HER SPOTS</h3> + +<p> +Kingozi washed, dressed, had his breakfast, and sat quietly in his chair. +In the open he found that he had a dim consciousness of light, but that +was all. There was no pain. +</p> + +<p> +After a while Cazi Moto came to report that the Leopard Woman was out and +about. Kingozi's message had been delivered. +</p> + +<p> +"She says you shall come to her tent," concluded Cazi Moto. Kingozi +considered. To insist that she should come to him might lead to a +downright refusal, unless he sent her word of his condition. This he did +not wish to do. His recollections of the classroom were now distinct. He +knew that the pilocarpin would restore his vision within a few hours; and +while the alleviation would be temporary, it might last some months, or +until he could get the proper surgical aid. Therefore it would be as well +not to let the men know anything was even temporarily the matter. +</p> + +<p> +"Take my chair," he ordered Cazi Moto. Then when the latter started off, +he followed, touching lightly the folded seat. As he felt the shade of the +tree under which the Leopard Woman's tent had been pitched, he chanced a +"good morning." Her reply gave him her direction, and he seated himself +facing her. +</p> + +<p> +"I am stupid this morning," he said. "Had a bad night. I wanted you to do +something for me--read a label, as a matter of fact--and it never occurred +to me that I might bring the label to you. Cazi Moto, go get my box of +medicines." +</p> + +<p> +"I do not quite understand," replied the Leopard Woman. "What is it you +would have me do?" +</p> + +<p> +"Read a label--on a bottle." +</p> + +<p> +"Why is it you do not read it yourself?" +</p> + +<p> +"My eyes do not focus well this morning." +</p> + +<p> +"I see," she said slowly. "And you would have me indicate for you the +remedy. That is it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that is it. I've stupidly forgotten which the bottle is I want." +</p> + +<p> +He heard her moving slightly here and there. He strained his ears to +understand what she was about. +</p> + +<p> +"You are blind!" she cried suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +"Temporarily--until I get my remedy. How did you know?" +</p> + +<p> +"The look of you; and just this moment I thrust suddenly at your face." +</p> + +<p> +Cazi Moto arrived with the medicine chest which he placed at his master's +feet, and opened. Kingozi extracted the three bottles. +</p> + +<p> +"The table is directly in front of you," came the Leopard Woman's voice. +</p> + +<p> +He reached out, and after a moment deposited the vials on the table. +</p> + +<p> +"It's one of these," he said, "but I don't know which. Just read them for +me." +</p> + +<p> +"This remedy will cure you?" +</p> + +<p> +"It will give me my sight. I have what is known as glaucoma. It is an +undue expansion of the pupil. This remedy contracts it again. The only +real cure is an operation." +</p> + +<p> +A silence ensued. +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" asked Kingozi at length. +</p> + +<p> +"It interests me," came her voice. "Suppose you had not this remedy?" +</p> + +<p> +"I should remain blind," replied Kingozi simply. +</p> + +<p> +"Until you obtained the remedy?" +</p> + +<p> +"Probably for always. One must not let glaucoma run or it becomes chronic. +It's God's own luck that I have this stuff with me--it's the pilocarpin I +told you of. The other stuff--atropin--would blind me for sure!" +</p> + +<p> +He thrust forward the three bottles. +</p> + +<p> +"Here," he urged. +</p> + +<p> +"If you had not the remedy--this what-you-call--pilocarpin, what would you +do?" An edge of eagerness had crept into her tones. +</p> + +<p> +"Do?" said Kingozi, a little impatiently. "I'd streak it for a surgeon. I +have no desire to lose my sight." +</p> + +<p> +Another pause. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall not read your labels," she decided. Her voice now was low and +decided. +</p> + +<p> +"What!" cried Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +He could hear the rustle of her clothes as she leaned forward. +</p> + +<p> +"Listen," she said. "Why should I do this for you? You have treated me as +a man treats his dog, his horse, his servant, his child--not as a man +treats a woman. Do you think because I have been the meek one, the quiet +one, that I have not cared?" +</p> + +<p> +"But this--my sight----" +</p> + +<p> +"Your sight is safe. You tell me so yourself. Go back to your surgeon. And +if you suffer inconvenience on the way--or pain--or humiliation--or anger +--why that is what you have made me suffer." +</p> + +<p> +"I----?" +</p> + +<p> +"You! You have treated me with scorn, with contempt, like a little child, +as though I did not exist! You have--what-you-call--ridden over--overridden what I propose, what I try to do. You and your lordly way! You +are not a man--you are a fish of cold blood; a statue of iron! You have +nothing but the head! You 'know nothing whatever about vegetables'--nor +women! Bah! Shall I read your labels and give you your sight? Ah, no! ah, +<i>non!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi was stunned. Idly his hand slid forward across the table. It +encountered and closed upon her wrist. Instantly she struggled to be free, +whereupon mechanically he tightened his clasp. She made a desperate effort +to do something. His other hand sought hers. It grasped one of the three +bottles, and even as he determined this fact, she tried again to hurl it +to the ground. Frustrated, she relaxed her grip, and he released her. +</p> + +<p> +He could hear the fling of her body as she stood upright; could catch the +indrawing of her breath. +</p> + +<p> +"Read them for yourself!" was her parting shot as she withdrew. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi sat very still for a long time. Then he arose abruptly and +commanded Cazi Moto to return with him to his own camp. There he caused +his chair to be placed in the shade. +</p> + +<p> +"Cazi Moto," said he, "listen well. You are my other hands; now you must +be something else. I am sick in the eyes; I can see nothing. In one of +these bottles is the medicine that will cure me, and in one of them is the +medicine that will make me blind forever. I do not know which it is; and I +cannot read the <i>barua</i> because I cannot see it. And Bibi-ya-chui cannot +read it. So you must be my eyes. Take a stick, and make on the ground +marks exactly like those on the <i>barua</i>. Make them deep, so that I may +feel them with my hands." +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a name="illusp180.jpg"></a> +<a href="images/illusp180.jpg"><img src="images/illusp180_th.jpg" alt="'Cazi Moto, take a stick and make on the ground marks exactly like those on the <i>barua</i>. Make them deep, so that I may feel them with my hands'"></a> +</p> + +<p> +Cazi Moto sharpened a stick, smoothed out a piece of earth, and squatted +beside it. +</p> + +<p> +The Central African native is untrained either to express himself or to +see pictorially. We have been so trained since the building blocks of our +infancy, so that a photograph of a scene is to us an exact replica of that +scene in miniature. As a matter of fact, it is only an arbitrary and +conventional arrangement of black and white. A raw native sees nothing +more than that even in a portrait of him self. +</p> + +<p> +So Cazi Moto went at this task absolutely unequipped both of brain and of +hand. In addition the label was rather difficult. The printed body of it +contained the firm name of the chemists and their address; the drug itself +was written, Kingozi remembered with exasperation, in his own not very +legible script. +</p> + +<p> +"Dashed fool!" he told himself aloud in his usual habit. "Deserve what +you've got. Ought to have segregated the drugs--ought to have printed the +labels--no use thinking of that now." +</p> + +<p> +Cazi Moto worked painstakingly, his shrewd and wizened face puckered in +absorption. He accomplished a legible <i>Borroughs & Wellcome</i> after many +trials. Then he proceeded with the script. It seemed impossible to make a +start; he did not even begin at the beginning, but was inclined to view +the work as an entity and to begin drawing it at the top of the middle. +Kingozi corrected that. At last the white man's fingers made out +distinctly a capital M. He erased it with a sweep of the hand. +</p> + +<p> +"That part of the <i>barua</i> again," he ordered. +</p> + +<p> +After a time Cazi Moto repeated the feat. +</p> + +<p> +"Once more." +</p> + +<p> +This was quicker. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi dropped that bottle into his side pocket with a sigh of relief. +</p> + +<p> +"Evidently the morphine," he said. "We'll try it again later to be sure. +Wish I didn't scribble such a rotten hand. My capital As and Ps are +something alike." +</p> + +<p> +He had a new idea. For fifteen minutes he tried to get from Cazi Moto at +first the number of letters on each label; and later, when the flowing +script proved this impractical, an idea of the relative lengths of the +words. Neither method was certain enough; another argument for printing +your labels, thought Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +"We'll get it, old sportsman!" he cried aloud in English. "We'll try for +the first letter." +</p> + +<p> +He bent forward, but the lesson went no further. +</p> + +<p> +For an hour the Leopard Woman had been watching, curious as to what these +two were doing so quietly in the shade of the tree. At last she evidently +made up her mind she must find out. Quietly she drew near them unnoticed, +so that at last she was standing only a few feet to one side. There she +witnessed the final triumph as to the morphine, and heard Kingozi's last +confident speech. As he leaned forward to place another bottle for Cazi +Moto to copy from, she gathered her forces, rushed forward between them, +snatched the vial, and dashed it violently against a rock, where it +naturally broke into innumerable pieces. Cazi Moto stared up at her, +astounded into immobility. Kingozi, without a trace of emotion, leaned +back in his chair. +</p> + +<p> +"I think I am losing my wits," he remarked. "I have been criminally stupid +through this whole affair. I might have foreseen something of the kind." +</p> + +<p> +She stood there panting excitedly, her hands clinched at her sides. +</p> + +<p> +"I will read your label for you now--the bottle you hold in your hand! It +is atropin--atropin--" She laughed wildly. +</p> + +<p> +"I thank you, madam," he said ironically. +</p> + +<p> +"Now you must go back!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Now I must go back. I thank you." +</p> + +<p> +"You may well thank me. I have saved your life!" she cried hysterically, +and was gone. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi did not examine the meaning of this; indeed, it hardly registered +at all as it was to him evidently the product of excitement. +</p> + +<p> +He forgot even the scandalized Cazi Moto squatting at his feet. For a long +time he stared sightlessly straight ahead. He could not explain this +woman. The whole outburst, the complete about-face in what had been their +apparent relations, overwhelmed him. He had had no idea of the slow +damming back of resentments; in fact, he really had no idea that there +were causes for resentment at all! He had done the direct, obvious, +efficient thing in a number of instances when naturally her powers or +abilities were inadequate. Characteristically, he forgot utterly the night +of the full moon! +</p> + +<p> +First of all, it was evident that he must turn back if he was to save his +eyesight. As he remembered glaucoma, it ought to be surgically treated +within two months, at most. +</p> + +<p> +The second point was whether he could turn back. His mission was a simple +one. Would it wait? He could not see why not. He had been sent to gain the +friendship and active alliance of M'tela and his spears; and had been +given <i>carte blanche</i> in the matters of equipment, methods, and time. +Inside a year or so the International Boundary Commission would be running +boundary lines through that country. Until then the Kabilagani could very +well go on as they probably had gone on for the last five hundred years. +</p> + +<p> +Very well; as far as his job was concerned, he could go back; as far as +his eyes were concerned, he must go back. +</p> + +<p> +Remained the problem of Bibi-ya-chui. +</p> + +<p> +Why was she in the country? For the same purpose as himself? It seemed +unlikely; she appeared to have slight qualifications for such a task. +Indeed, in the candour of his own inner communings Kingozi acknowledged +that he and the German, Winkleman, alone could be held really fitted for +that sort of negotiation. But if she were? Why did she not say so? Their +object would be the same. It was as much to Germany's interest to pacify, +to make friendly this hinterland before the advent of the Boundary +Commission. All this was a puzzle. But there was the indubitable secret +map, and the indubitable concealment of purpose; and--to Kingozi's mind--the indubitable attempt to make travelling so tedious that he would split +safaris and permit her to go alone. +</p> + +<p> +This led to another conclusion. He could not see the reason for it all, +but one thing was clear: she must not even now be allowed to take her own +course. Whatever she was up to, she did not intend to let him know about +it; ergo it was something inimical to him, either personally or +officially. Probably personally, Kingozi thought with a grim smile. He was +no fool about women when his mind was sufficiently disengaged from other +things; and now he remembered the inhibited promise of the tropic moon. +Still he could take no chances. He could turn back; he must turn back; and +as a corollary the Leopard Woman must turn back with him! +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xix">CHAPTER XIX</a></h2> + +<h3>THE TRIAL</h3> + +<p> +He remembered Cazi Moto squatting, undoubtedly horrified to the core. +</p> + +<p> +"Cazi Moto, are you there?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Where has the <i>memsahib</i> gone?" +</p> + +<p> +"Into her tent, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Listen well to me. She has destroyed the medicine. Now we must go back to +where <i>Bwana</i> Marefu can come to fix my eyes. We shall go with all the men +as far as the people of the <i>sultani</i>. There we will leave many porters +and many loads. With a few men we will go to Bwana Marefu. When he has +fixed my eyes, then we will come back. I will fix a <i>barua</i> for <i>Bwana</i>. +This must be sent on ahead of us so he can come to meet us. Pick two good +men for messengers. Is all that understood?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Tell me, then, what is to be done?" +</p> + +<p> +Cazi Moto repeated the gist of what had been said. Kingozi nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"That is it." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bwana?</i>" Cazi Moto hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Speak." +</p> + +<p> +"That woman. Shall she be <i>kibokoed</i> or killed?" +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi caught back a chuckle. +</p> + +<p> +"No," he said gravely. "That will wait for later. But see that she is +watched; do not permit her to talk to her men; take all her guns and +pistols, and bring them to me." +</p> + +<p> +"And this Chaké?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course." Kingozi had really forgotten the man in the concentrations of +the past few hours. "Let him be brought before me an hour before sundown." +</p> + +<p> +He found himself all at once overcome with sleep. Hardly was he able to +stagger to his cot before he fell into a deep, refreshing slumber. +</p> + +<p> +At the appointed hour Cazi Moto scratched on his tent door. Kingozi arose +and walked confidently into the opening. Cazi Moto deftly indicated the +location of the chair. Kingozi sat down. +</p> + +<p> +Although he could not see, he visualized the scene well enough. +Immediately in front of him, and ten feet away, stood the manacled Nubian, +with an armed man at either elbow. Behind them, in turn, were grouped +silently all the combined safaris. At his own elbows stood Cazi Moto and +Simba--possibly Mali-ya-bwana. +</p> + +<p> +He allowed an impressive wait to ensue. Then abruptly he began his +interrogation. He had been thinking over the circumstances, off and on, +since last night, and had determined on his line. Ordinarily he would have +called for witnesses of various sorts, but this would have been not at all +for the purpose of piling up evidence against the accused. That is the +civilized fashion; and is superfluous among savages. Kingozi's witnesses +would have been called solely for the purpose of furnishing information to +himself. He needed only one piece of information here, and that only one +witness could furnish him--the man before him. +</p> + +<p> +"Why did you kill Mavrouki?" he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +"I did not kill Mavrouki, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"That is a lie," rejoined Kingozi calmly. +</p> + +<p> +Chaké became voluble. +</p> + +<p> +"All night I sat by my fire cooking <i>potio</i> and meat," he protested. "This +the <i>askaris</i> will tell you. And my spear lay in the tent with the +<i>askaris</i>," he went on at great length, repeating these two points, +babbling, protesting, pleading. Kingozi listened to him in dead silence +until he had quite run down. +</p> + +<p> +"Listen," said he impressively, "all these words are lies. This is what +happened: from one of the <i>shenzis</i> you traded a spear, or a spear was +given you. Your own spear you left in the tent. All day you sat in the +grass and sharpened the <i>shenzi</i> spear." This was a wild guess, based on +probabilities, but by the uneasy stir in the throng Kingozi knew he had +scored. "Then at night you waited, and you speared Mavrouki with the +<i>shenzi</i> spear, and you left it in his back, for you said to yourself, +'men will think a <i>shenzi</i> has done this thing.' Then you went quietly to +your fire, and cooked <i>potio</i>, and your own spear was all the time where +the <i>askaris</i> were lying." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi paused. He knew without Cazi Moto's whispered assurance that every +shot had told. It was a simple bit of deduction, but to these simpler +minds it seemed miraculous. +</p> + +<p> +"Why did you wish to kill me?" he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +The Nubian, taken completely by surprise, began to chatter with fright. +</p> + +<p> +"I did not wish to kill you, <i>bwana</i>. I wished to kill Mavrouki." +</p> + +<p> +"That is a lie," said Kingozi equably. "Why should you wait for Mavrouki +near my tent? Was Mavrouki my gun bearer, or even my cook, that he should +come to my tent? Mavrouki was a porter, and if you wished to kill Mavrouki +you would wait by the porters' camp." +</p> + +<p> +He said these words slowly, without emphasis, in almost a detached manner. +By the murmur he knew that this amazing reasoning had, as usual, struck +the men with deep astonishment. The African native is a simple creature. +He waited a full minute. +</p> + +<p> +"Mavrouki wore a khaki coat. He and I were the only people of all the +safari who had khaki coats. That is why in the darkness you mistook +Mavrouki for me. That is why you killed Mavrouki." +</p> + +<p> +He said this in a firm voice, as though making an indisputable statement. +The buzz of low-voiced comment increased. This time he did not pause. +</p> + +<p> +"Why did you wish to kill me?" he repeated. +</p> + +<p> +But again he sensed the fact that Chaké had taken refuge in the dull +stupidity that is an acknowledgment of defeat. He knew that he would get +no more replies. After waiting a few moments he went on. His voice had +become weighty with authority and measured with doom. +</p> + +<p> +"You will not tell. Let it be so. And now listen; and you other safari men +listen also. Because you have wished to kill me, you shall have two +hundred lashes with the <i>kiboko</i>; and then you shall be hanged." +</p> + +<p> +A moment of horror was followed by a low murmur of comment. Not a man +there but realized that the unfortunate Nubian would never live to be +hanged. A punishment of twenty-five is as much as the most stoical can +stand in silence; fifty as much as can be absorbed without permanent +injury; seventy-five an extreme resorted to on a very few desperately rare +occasions. Beyond that no experience taught the result. Kingozi's sentence +was equivalent to death by torture. +</p> + +<p> +He leaned forward in his chair, listening intently. He heard his victim's +gasp, the mutter of the crowd. They passed him by. Then he sank back, a +half smile on his lips. He had caught the rustle of silks, the indignant +breathing of a woman. He knew that Bibi-ya-chui stood before him. +</p> + +<p> +"But this is atrocious!" she cried. "This cannot go on!" +</p> + +<p> +"It shall go on," he replied steadily. "Why not?" +</p> + +<p> +"He is my man. I forbid it!" +</p> + +<p> +"He is my man to punish when he attempts my life." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall prevent this--this--oh, this outrage!" +</p> + +<p> +"How?" he asked calmly. +</p> + +<p> +She turned to the men and began to talk to them in Swahili, repeating +emphatically what she had just said to Kingozi in English, uttering her +commands. They were received in a dead silence. +</p> + +<p> +"You have heard the <i>memsahib</i> speak, you men of the <i>memsahib's</i> safari," +remarked Kingozi; then: "You, Jack, whom I made chief of <i>askaris</i>, you +speak." +</p> + +<p> +"What does the <i>bwana</i> say of this?" came Jack's deep voice after a +moment. +</p> + +<p> +"You have heard." +</p> + +<p> +"What the <i>bwana</i> says is law." +</p> + +<p> +"Does any man of you think differently? Speak!" +</p> + +<p> +No voice answered. Kingozi turned to where, he knew, the Leopard Woman +stood. +</p> + +<p> +"You see?" +</p> + +<p> +He heard only a choked sob of rage and impotence. After waiting a minute +he resumed: +</p> + +<p> +"Do my command. Let three men, in turn, give the <i>kiboko</i>. You, Simba, see +that they strike hard." +</p> + +<p> +A faint clink of manacles indicated that the guards had laid hands on +their victim. +</p> + +<p> +"Wait!" cried the Leopard Woman in a strangled voice. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi raised his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"You--you brute!" she cried. "You shall not do this! Chaké is not to +blame! It is I--I, who speak. I did this. I ordered him to kill you. I +alone should be punished!" +</p> + +<p> +He drew a deep breath. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought so," he said softly; then in Swahili: "These are my orders. Let +this man be well guarded. Let him be treated well, and given <i>potio</i> and +meat. He shall be punished later. And now," he turned to Bibi-ya-chui in +English again, "let us drop the excitement and the hysterics. Let us sit +down calmly and discuss the matter. Perhaps you are now ready to tell me +why you have lied to me; why you have concealed your possession of a +secret map and other information; why you have deliberately delayed my +march; and, above all, why you have refused to aid my blindness and have +attempted to kill me." +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xx">CHAPTER XX</a></h2> + +<h3>KINGOZI'S ULTIMATUM</h3> + +<p> +But she did not immediately answer this. She was on fire with a new +thought. +</p> + +<p> +"This is another of your--what you call--traps!" she cried. "You never +intended to kill this man with the <i>kiboko!</i> You intended to make me +speak--as I did!" +</p> + +<p> +"That's as may be," he rejoined. "At least I should have tried how far he +would have been faithful to you before telling what he knew--if you had +not spoken." +</p> + +<p> +"He is faithful--to the death," she asseverated with passion. +</p> + +<p> +"I am inclined to believe you are right. But that is neither here nor +there. I am waiting answers to my questions." +</p> + +<p> +"And you shall wait," she took him up superbly. "I shall not answer!" +</p> + +<p> +He shrugged his shoulders wearily. +</p> + +<p> +"That is your affair. I must confess that I am curious to know, however, +why you did not shoot me. You have a pistol." +</p> + +<p> +"Your men took that pistol." +</p> + +<p> +"But not until late this morning. You had plenty of chance." +</p> + +<p> +"I could not," she said, her voice taking on a curious intonation; "there +was no need." +</p> + +<p> +"You mean since I went blind there was no need," he interjected quickly. +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated whether to reply. Then: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that is it," she assented. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi leaned forward, gripping the arms of his chair. +</p> + +<p> +"I must tell you that my blindness is not going to help you in the way you +believe," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"What do I believe?" The animation of curiosity crept into her voice. +</p> + +<p> +"For one thing, you believe I am no ivory hunter; and you know perfectly +why I am in this country." +</p> + +<p> +"Do I?" +</p> + +<p> +"Do you not?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well--yes." +</p> + +<p> +"Why is it, tell me." +</p> + +<p> +She pondered this, then made up her mind +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know why not. The time for fencing is over. I know perfectly +that you are sent by your government to make treaty with M'tela. And I +know," she added with the graciousness of one who has got back to sure +ground, "that no one could do it better; and no one as well." +</p> + +<p> +"Except Winkleman," said Kingozi simply. +</p> + +<p> +"Except Winkleman--perhaps." +</p> + +<p> +"As you say, the time for fencing is over," pursued Kingozi. "That is +true. And it is true also that you are not merely travelling for pleasure. +You are yourself on a mission. You are Hungarian, but you are in the +employ of the German Government." +</p> + +<p> +She laughed musically. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bravo!</i>" she cried. "That is true. But go on--how do you make the +guess?" +</p> + +<p> +"Your maps, your--pardon me--equivocations, and a few other matters of the +sort. Now it is perfectly evident that you are trying to forestall me in +some manner." +</p> + +<p> +"Point number two," she agreed mockingly. +</p> + +<p> +"I am free to confess I do not know why; and at present I do not care. +That's why I tell you. You are so anxious to forestall me--for this +unknown reason--that when smaller things fail----" +</p> + +<p> +"You are of an interest--what smaller things?" +</p> + +<p> +"Various wiles--some of them feminine. Delays, for example. Do you suppose +I believed for a moment those delays were not inspired? That is why my +punishments were so severe--and other wiles," he concluded vaguely. +</p> + +<p> +She did not press the point. +</p> + +<p> +"When smaller things failed," he repeated, "you would have resorted even +to murder. Your necessity must have been great." +</p> + +<p> +"Believe me--it was!" she answered. +</p> + +<p> +He brought up short at the unexpected feeling that vibrated in her voice. +His face expressed a faint surprise, and he returned to his subject with +fresh interest. +</p> + +<p> +"And when my eyes failed me, and you could have given me my sight by the +mere reading of a label, you refused; you condemned me to the darkness. +And, further, when I had a chance to learn my remedy for myself, you +destroyed it. I wonder whether that cost you anything, too?" + +He sat apparently staring out into the distance, his sightless eyes wide +with the peculiar blank pathos of the blind. The Leopard Woman's own eyes +were suffused with tears! +</p> + +<p> +"I remember now something you said when you broke the bottle of +pilocarpin," he said slowly. "I did not notice it at the time; now it +comes to me. 'I have saved your life,' you said. I get the meaning of that +now. You would have killed me rather than not have forestalled me; but the +blindness saved you that necessity. You know, I am a little glad to learn +that you did not <i>want</i> to kill me." +</p> + +<p> +"Want!" she cried. "How could I want?" +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi chuckled. +</p> + +<p> +"You told me enough times just what you thought of me." +</p> + +<p> +Her crest reared, but drooped again. +</p> + +<p> +"No women likes to be treated so. And if you had your eyes, so I would +hate you again!" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know why you want to prevent me from reaching M'tela, nor why you +want to reach him first, nor why in its wisdom your government sent you at +all. I'd like to know, just as a matter of curiosity. But it doesn't +really matter, because it does not affect the essential situation in the +least." +</p> + +<p> +"You are going to M'tela just the same?" she inquired anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +"Bless you, no. I have no desire to go blind. It's the beastliest +affliction can come to an active man. And glaucoma is a tricky thing. I'd +like to get to McCloud tomorrow. But still you are not going to get to +M'tela before me." +</p> + +<p> +"No?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry; but you will have to go with me." +</p> + +<p> +"You have the force," she acknowledged after a moment. Somewhat surprised +at her lack of protest--or was it resignation to the inevitable?--Kingozi +checked himself. After a moment he went on. +</p> + +<p> +"Somehow," he mused, "in spite of your amiable activities, I have a +certain confidence in you. It would be much more comfortable for both of +us if you would give me your word not to try to escape, or to go back, or +to leave my camp, or cause your men to leave my camp, or anything like +that." +</p> + +<p> +"Would you trust my word?" +</p> + +<p> +"If you would give it solemnly--yes." +</p> + +<p> +"But to do what I wished to do--as you say just now yourself--I am ready +to use all means--even to killing. Why do you not think I would also +break, my word to do my ends?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think you would not." +</p> + +<p> +"But do you think I would, what you call--consider your trust in me more +great than my government's trust in me?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. I do not think that either." +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do not think you will give your word to me unless you mean to keep it. +If you do give it, I am willing to rely upon it." +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman moved impulsively to his side. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well. I give it," she said with a choke. +</p> + +<p> +"That you go with my safari, without subterfuge, without sending word +anywhere--in other words, a fair start afresh!" +</p> + +<p> +"Just that," she replied. +</p> + +<p> +"That is your word of honour?" +</p> + +<p> +"My word of honour." +</p> + +<p> +"Give me your hand on it." +</p> + +<p> +She laid her palm in his. His hand closed over hers, gripping it tightly. +Her eyes were swimming, her breast heaved. Slowly she swayed toward him, +leaned over him. Her lips touched his. Suddenly she was seized hungrily. +She abandoned herself to the kiss. +</p> + +<p> +But after a moment she tore herself away from him, panting. +</p> + +<p> +"This must not be!" she cried tragically. "I know not what I do! This is +not good! I am a woman of honour!" +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi, his blind face alight, held out his arms to her. +</p> + +<p> +"Your honour is safe with me," he said. +</p> + +<p> +But he had mistaken her meaning. Step by step she recoiled from him until +she stood at the distance of some paces, her hands pressed against her +cheeks, her eyes fixed on him with a strange mixture of tenderness, pity, +and sternness. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it?" he begged, getting uncertainly to his feet. "Where are you?" +</p> + +<p> +But she did not answer him. After a moment she slipped away. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xxi">CHAPTER XXI</a></h2> + +<h3>THE MESSENGERS</h3> + +<p> +The return trip began promptly the following morning, and progressed +uninterruptedly for two weeks. One by one they picked up the water-holes +found on the journey out. +</p> + +<p> +A few details had to be adjusted to compensate for Kingozi's lack of eyes. +The matter of meat supplies, for example. +</p> + +<p> +"Good luck I gave some attention to your shooting, old sportsman," he +remarked to Simba in English, then in Swahili: "Here are five cartridges. +Go get me a zebra and a kongoni." + +Simba was no shot, but Kingozi knew he would stalk, with infinite patience +and skill, fairly atop his quarry before letting off one of the precious +cartridges. +</p> + +<p> +In the matter of rhinoceros and similar dangers, they simply took a +chance. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi marched at the end of a stick held by Simba. He gave his whole +energies to getting over the day's difficulties of all sorts. His +relations with the Leopard Woman swung back. Perhaps vaguely, in the back +of his mind, he looked forward to the interpretation of that +unpremeditated kiss; but just now a mixed feeling of responsibility and +delicacy prevented his going forward from the point attained. During the +march they walked apart most of the time. The weariness of forced travel +abridged their evenings. +</p> + +<p> +Chaké walked guarded, and slept in chains. +</p> + +<p> +Whenever the location of water-holes permitted, the safari made long +jumps. The two messengers sent out with a scrawled letter to Doctor +McCloud--whom they knew as Bwana Marefu--were of course far ahead. With +any luck Kingozi hoped to meet the surgeon not far from the mountains +where dwelt the <i>sultani</i> of the ivory stockade. +</p> + +<p> +Thus the march went through a fortnight. The close of the fourteenth day +found them camped near water in a <i>donga</i>. The dim blue of mountains had +raised itself above the horizon ahead. This rejoiced the men. They were +running low of <i>potio</i>, and they knew that from the <i>sultani's</i> subjects +in these mountains a further supply could be had. As a consequence, an +unwonted <i>kalele</i> was smiting the air. Each man chatted to his next-door +neighbour at the top of his lungs, laughing loudly, squealing with +delight. Kingozi sat enjoying it. He had been so long in Africa that this +happy rumpus always pleased him. Suddenly it fell to silence. He cocked +his ear, trying to understand the reason. +</p> + +<p> +Across the open veldt two figures had been descried. They were coming +toward the camp at a slow dogtrot; and as they approached it could be seen +that save for a turban apiece they were stark naked; and save for a spear +and a water gourd apiece they were without equipment. One held something +straight upright before him, as medieval priests carried a cross. The +turbans were formed from their blankets; mid-blade of each spear was wound +with a strip of red cloth; the object one carried was a letter held in the +cleft of a stick. +</p> + +<p> +By these tokens the safari men knew the strangers to be messengers. +</p> + +<p> +The mail service of Central Africa is slow but very certain. You give your +letter to two reliable men and inform them that it is for <i>Bwana</i> So-and-so. Sooner or later <i>Bwana</i> So-and-so will get that letter. He is found by +a process of elimination. In the bazaars the messengers inquire whether he +has gone north, south, east, or west. Some native is certain to have known +some of his men. So your messengers start west. Their progress +thenceforward is a series of village visits. The gossip of the country +directs them. Gradually, but with increasing certainty, their course +defines itself, until at last--months later--they come trotting into camp. +</p> + +<p> +These two jogged in broadly agrin. Cazi Moto and Simba led them at once to +Kingozi's chair. +</p> + +<p> +"These men bring a <i>barua</i> for you, <i>bwana</i>," said Cazi Moto. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi took the split wand with the letter thrust crosswise in the cleft. +</p> + +<p> +"Who sent them?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"The <i>Bwana</i> M'Kubwa[<a href="#10">10</a>], <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="10">10</a>: <i>Bwana M'Kubwa</i>--the great lord, i.e., the chief officer of any +district.] +</p> + +<p> +"Have they no message?" +</p> + +<p> +"They say no message, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Take them and give them food, and see that they have a place in one of +the tents." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"And send Bibi-ya-chui to me." +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman sent word that she was bathing, but would come shortly. +Kingozi sat fingering the letter, which he could not read. It was long and +thick. He could feel the embossed frank of the Government Office. The +situation was puzzling. It might contain secret orders, in which case it +would be inadvisable to allow the Leopard Woman a sight of its contents. +But Kingozi shook off this thought. At about the time he felt the cool +shadow of the earth rise across his face as the sun slipped below the +horizon, he became aware also by the faint perfume that the Leopard Woman +had come. +</p> + +<p> +"I am in a fix," he said abruptly. "Runners have just come in with this +letter. It is official, and may be secret. I am morally certain you ought +not to know its contents; but I don't see how I am to know them unless you +do. Will you read it to me, and will you give me your word not to use its +contents for your own or your government's purposes?" +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot promise that." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," he amended after a moment, "you will stick to the terms of your +other promise--that you will not attempt to leave my safari or send +messages until we arrive." +</p> + +<p> +"The fresh, even start," she supplied. "That promise is given." +</p> + +<p> +He handed her the envelope. +</p> + +<p> +A crackle of paper, then a long wait. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall not read you this," she said finally in a strangled, suppressed +voice. + +"Why not?" he demanded sharply. +</p> + +<p> +"It contains things I would not have you know." +</p> + +<p> +He felt the paper thrust into his hands, reached for her wrists, and +pinioned them. For once his self-control had broken. His face was suffused +with blood and dark with anger. +</p> + +<p> +But his speech was cut short by an uproar from the camp. Cries, shrieks, +shouts, yells, and the sound of running to and fro steadily increased in +volume. It was a riot. +</p> + +<p> +In vain Kingozi called for Cazi Moto and Simba. Finally he grasped his +<i>kiboko</i> and started in the direction of the disturbance. The Leopard +Woman sprang to his side, and guided him. He laid about him blindly with +the <i>kiboko</i>, and in time succeeded in getting some semblance of order. +</p> + +<p> +"Cazi Moto! Simba!" he shouted angrily. +</p> + +<p> +"Bwana?" "Sah?" two panting voices answered. +</p> + +<p> +"What is this?" +</p> + +<p> +They both began to speak at once. +</p> + +<p> +"You, Cazi Moto," commanded Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +"These men are liars," began Cazi Moto. +</p> + +<p> +"What men?" +</p> + +<p> +"These men who brought the <i>barua</i>. They tell lies, bad lies, and we beat +them for it." +</p> + +<p> +"Since when have you beaten liars? And since when have I ceased to deal +punishment? And since when has it been permitted that such a <i>kalele</i> be +raised in my camp?" pronounced Kingozi coldly. "For attending to such +things you are my man; and Simba is my man; and Mali-ya-bwana is my man; +and Jack is my man. Because you have done these things I fine you six +rupees each one." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>," said Cazi Moto submissively. +</p> + +<p> +"These other men--what manner of 'lie' do they tell? Bring them here." +</p> + +<p> +The messengers were produced. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it you tell that my men beat you for telling lies? They must be +bad lies, for it is not the custom of men to beat men for telling lies." +</p> + +<p> +"We tell no lies, <i>bwana</i>" said one of the messengers earnestly. "We tell +the truth." +</p> + +<p> +"What is it you tell?" +</p> + +<p> +"We said what has happened: that across the Serengëtti came white men from +the country of Taveta, and that these white men were many, and had many +<i>askaris</i> with them, and our white men from Nairobi met them, and fought +so that those from Taveta were driven back and some were killed. And down +the N'Gouramani River many of our white men with <i>Mahindi</i>[<a href="#11">11</a>] fought with +strange white men on a hill below Ol Sambu, but were driven off. And many +<i>Mahindi</i> are coming in to Mombasa, all with guns, and all the <i>askaris</i> +are brought into Nairobi. And we told these safari men that the white men +were making war on the white men, so they cried out at this, and beat us." +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="11">11</a>: Mahindi--East Indians.] +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi had listened attentively. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Cazi Moto?" he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +"But this is a lie; a bad lie," said Cazi Moto, "to say that white men +make war on white men!" +</p> + +<p> +"Nevertheless it is true," rejoined Kingozi quietly. "These other white +men are the <i>Duyches</i>[<a href="#12">12</a>], and they make war." +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="12">12</a>: Duyches--Germans.] +</p> + +<p> +He turned and walked back to his camp unassisted. He groped for his chair +and sat down. His hand encountered the letter. +</p> + +<p> +"You do not need to read this to me now," he told the Leopard Woman +quietly. "I know what it tells." He thought a moment. "It is clear to me +now. You knew, this war was to be declared." +</p> + +<p> +She did not reply. +</p> + +<p> +"You know about <i>when</i> this war was to be declared," he pursued his +thought. "Yes, it fits." +</p> + +<p> +Her silence continued. +</p> + +<p> +"You should have killed me," he thought aloud. "That alone could have +accomplished your mission properly. You might have known I would make you +go back, too. Or perhaps you thought you could command your own men in +spite of me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps," she said unexpectedly. +</p> + +<p> +He raised his voice: +</p> + +<p> +"Cazi Moto!" +</p> + +<p> +The chastened headman came running. +</p> + +<p> +"To-morrow," Kingozi told him, "the men go on half <i>potio</i>. There will be +plenty of meat but only half <i>potio</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"And if any man grumbles, or if any man objects even one word to what I do +or where I go, bring him to me at once. Understand?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bassi</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"What is it you intend to do now?" asked the Leopard Woman curiously. +</p> + +<p> +"Go back, of course." +</p> + +<p> +"Back--where?" +</p> + +<p> +"To M'tela." +</p> + +<p> +She gasped. +</p> + +<p> +"But you cannot do that! You have not considered; you have not thought." +</p> + +<p> +He shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +"But it means blindness; blindness for always!" +</p> + +<p> +"I know my duty." +</p> + +<p> +"But to be blind, to be blind always; never to see the sun, the wide +veldt, the beasts, and the birds! Never to read a book, to see a man's +face, a woman's form; to sit always in darkness waiting--you cannot do +that!" +</p> + +<p> +He winced at her words but did not reply. Her hands fluttered to his +shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +"Please do not do this foolishness," she pleaded softly; "it is not worth +it! See, I have given my word! If you had thought I would go ahead of you +to M'tela, all that danger is past. A fresh start, you said it yourself. +Do you think I would deceive you?" +</p> + +<p> +She was hovering very close to him; he could feel her breath on his cheek. +Firmly but gently he took her two wrists and thrust her away from him. +</p> + +<p> +"Listen, my dear," he said gently, "this is a time for clear thinking. My +country is at war with Germany; and my whole duty is to her. You are an +Austrian." +</p> + +<p> +"My country, too, is at war," she said unexpectedly. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, you knew that would happen, too," he said after a startled pause. "I +know only this: that if in times of peace it was important to my +government that M'tela's friendship be gained, it is ten times as +important in time of war. I must go back and do my best." +</p> + +<p> +"But why?" she interjected eagerly. "This savage tribe--it is in the +remote hinterland; it knows nothing of the white man or the white man's +quarrels. What difference can it make?" +</p> + +<p> +"That is not my affair. For one thing, he is on the border." +</p> + +<p> +"But what difference of that? The border means nothing. The fate of their +colonies will be fought in Europe, not here. What happens to this country +depends on who wins there below." +</p> + +<p> +"Can you state positively of your own knowledge that no invasion or +movement of German troops is planned across M'tela's country? On your +sacred word of honour?" propounded Kingozi suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +"On my word of honour," she repeated slowly, "no such movement." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know what you are talking about?" +</p> + +<p> +She was silent. +</p> + +<p> +"It doesn't sound reasonable--an invasion from that quarter--what could +they gain either on that side or on this?" Kingozi ruminated. A sudden +thought struck him. "And that there is no reason whatever, from my point +of view as a loyal British subject, against my going out at this time? On +your word?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh!" she cried distressedly, "you ask such questions! How can I +answer----" +</p> + +<p> +He stopped her with grave finality. +</p> + +<p> +"That is sufficient. I go back." +</p> + +<p> +She did not attempt to combat him. +</p> + +<p> +"I have done my duty, too," she said dully. "Mine is not the Viennese +conscience. My parole; I must take that back. From to-morrow I take it +back." +</p> + +<p> +"I understand. I am sorry. To-morrow I place my guard." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, why cannot you have the sense?" she cried passionately. "I cannot +bear it! That you must be blind! That I must kill you if I can, once +more!" +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi smiled quietly to himself at this confession. +</p> + +<p> +"So you would even kill me?" he queried curiously. +</p> + +<p> +"I must! I must! If it is necessary, I must! I have sworn!" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you suppose I shall take precautions?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I hope so! I do hope so!" she cried. +</p> + +<p> +Her distress was so genuine, her unconsciousness of the anomaly of her +attitude so naïve that Kingozi forbore even to smile. +</p> + +<p> +"I must go on," he concluded simply. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xxii">CHAPTER XXII</a></h2> + +<h3>THE SECOND MESSENGERS</h3> + +<p> +The return journey began. A remarkable tribute to Kingozi's influence, not +only over his own men, but over those of the new safari, might have been +read from the fact that there was brought for correction not one grumble, +either over the halving of the <i>potio</i> or the apparently endless counter-marching. As far as the white members were concerned the journey was one +of doggedness and gloom. Kingozi's strong will managed to keep to the +foreground the details of his immediate duty; but to do so he had to sink +all other considerations whatever. The same effort required to submerge +all thought of the darkened years to come carried down also every +recollection of the past. The Leopard Woman ceased to exist, not because +she had lost importance, but because Kingozi's mind was focussed on a +single point. +</p> + +<p> +And she. Perhaps she understood this; perhaps the tearing antagonism of +her own purposes, duties, and desires stunned or occupied her--who knows? +The outward result was the same as in the case of her companion. They +walked apart, ate apart, lived each in his superb isolation, going forward +like sleep-walkers to what the future might hold. +</p> + +<p> +Thus they travelled for ten days. In mid-march, then, Cazi Moto came to +tell Kingozi that two more messengers had arrived. +</p> + +<p> +"They are not people of our country," he added. "They are <i>shenzis</i> such +as no man here ever saw before." +</p> + +<p> +"What sort of <i>shenzis?</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"Short, square men. Very black. Hair that is long and stands out like a +little tree." +</p> + +<p> +"What do they say?" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bwana</i>, they speak a language that no man here understands. And this is +strange: that they do not come from the direction of Nairobi." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps they are men from M'tela." +</p> + +<p> +"No, <i>bwana</i>, that cannot be, for they carry a <i>barua</i>. They came from a +white man." +</p> + +<p> +"That is strange, very strange," said Kingozi quickly. "I do not +understand. Is there water near where we stand?" +</p> + +<p> +"There is the water of the place we called <i>Campi ya Korungu</i> when we +passed before." +</p> + +<p> +"Make camp there." +</p> + +<p> +"The sun is at four hours[<a href="#13">13</a>], <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="13">13</a>: 10:00 o'clock.] +</p> + +<p> +"It makes no difference." +</p> + +<p> +When camp had been pitched Kingozi caused the new messengers to be brought +before him. A few moments' questioning elicited two facts: one, that there +existed no medium of communication known to both parties; two, that the +strangers were from some part of the Congo basin. The latter conclusion +Kingozi gained from catching a few words of a language root known to him. +He stretched his hand for the letter. +</p> + +<p> +It was in a long linen envelope, unsealed, and unembossed. +</p> + +<p> +Not from the government. He unfolded the sheets of paper and ran his +fingers over the pages. Written in pencil; he could feel the indentations +where the writer had borne down. Some private individual writing him from +camp on the Congo side. Who could it be? Kingozi's Central African +acquaintance was wide; he knew most of the gentlemen adventurers roaming +through that land of fascination. A good many were not averse to ivory +poaching; and the happy hunting ground of ivory poaching was at that time +the French Congo. It might be any of them. But how could they know of his +whereabouts in this unknown country? And how could they know he was in +this country at all? These last two points seemed to him important. +Suddenly he threw his head back and laughed aloud. +</p> + +<p> +"Self-centred egotist!" he addressed himself. "Cazi Moto, tell Bibi-ya-chui I wish to see her." +</p> + +<p> +Cazi Moto departed to return immediately with the Leopard Woman who, at +this hour, was still in her marching clothes. If she felt any surprise at +this early abandonment of the day's march she did not show it. Two +<i>askaris</i>, confided with the task of guarding her, followed a few paces to +the rear. She glanced curiously at the bushy savages. +</p> + +<p> +"Here," said Kingozi, holding out the letter, "is a <i>barua</i> for you--from +your friend Winkleman in the Congo." +</p> + +<p> +The shock of surprise held her speechless for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +"Your blindness is well! You can see!" she cried then. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi raised his head sharply, for there was a lilt of relief and +gladness in her voice. +</p> + +<p> +"No," he answered, "just ordinary deduction. Am I right?" +</p> + +<p> +He heard her slowly unfolding the paper. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, you are right," she said in sober tones, after a moment. She uttered +a happy exclamation, then another; then ran to his side and threw her arms +around his neck in an impulsive hug. Kingozi remembered the waiting men +and motioned them away. She was talking rapidly, almost hysterically, as +people talk when relieved of a pressure. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, it is from Winkleman. He has come in from the Congo side. When this +letter was written he was only ten days' march from M'tela." +</p> + +<p> +"How do you know that?" interjected Kingozi sharply. +</p> + +<p> +"Native information, he says. Oh, I am so glad! so glad! so glad!" +</p> + +<p> +"That was the plan from the start, was it?" said Kingozi. "I don't know +whether it was a good plan or that I have been thick. My head is in rather +a whirl. It was Winkleman right along, was it?" +</p> + +<p> +She laughed excitedly. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, such a game! Of course it was Winkleman. Did you think me one to be +sent to savage kings?" +</p> + +<p> +"It didn't seem credible," muttered Kingozi. "It is a humiliating +question, but seems inevitable--were you actually sent out by your +officials merely to delay <i>me?</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"So that Winkleman might arrive first--surely." +</p> + +<p> +"I see." Kingozi's accent was getting to be more formally polite. "But why +you? Why did not your most efficient employers dispatch an ordinary +assassin? I do not err in assuming that you all knew that this war was to +be declared at this time." +</p> + +<p> +"That is true." Her voice still sang, her high spirits unsubdued by his +veiled sarcasm. +</p> + +<p> +"Then since it is war, why not have me shot and done with it? Why send a +woman?" +</p> + +<p> +"That was arranged, truly. A man of the Germans was following you. He was +as a sportsman, for it would not do to rouse suspicion. Then he had an +accident. I was in Nairobi. I heard of it. I did not know you, and this +German did not know you. It seemed to us very simple. I was to follow +until I came up with you. Then I was to delay you until I had word that +Winkleman had crossed the <i>n'yika</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"All very simple and easy," murmured Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +"It was not simple! It was not easy!" she cried in a sudden flash of +resentment. "You are a strange man. When you go toward a thing, you see +down a narrow lane. What is either side does not exist." Her voice +gradually raised to vehemence. "I am a woman. I am weak and helpless. Do +you assist me, comfort me, sustain me in dreadful situation? No! You march +on, leaving me to follow! I think to myself that you are a pig, a brute, +that you have no chivalry, that you know not the word gentleman; and I +hate you! Then I see that I am wrong. You have chivalry, you are a true +gentleman; but before you is an object and you cannot turn your eyes away. +And I think so to myself that when this object is removed, is placed one +side for a time, then you will come to yourself. Then will be my chance. +For I study you. I look at your eyes and the fire in them, and the lips, +and the wide, proud nostril; and I see that here is no cold fish creature, +but a strong man. So I wait my time. And the moon rises, and the savage +drums throb, throb like hearts of passion, and the bul-buls sing in the +bush--and I know I am beautiful, and I know men, and almost I think you +look one side, and that I win!" +</p> + +<p> +"So all that was a game!" commented Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +"A game? But yes--then!" +</p> + +<p> +"For the sake of winning your point--would you--would you----" + +"For the sake of winning my point did I not command to kill you--you--my +friend?" she commented, her manner falling from vehemence to sadness. "If +I could do that, what else would matter!" She paused; then went on in a +subdued voice: "But even then your glance but wavered. You are a strong +man; and you are a victim of your strength. When an idea grips hold of +you, you know nothing but that. And so I saw the delaying of you was not +so simple, so easy. It was not as a man to a woman, but as a man to a man. +It was war. I did my best," she concluded wearily. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi was staring in her direction almost as though he could see. +</p> + +<p> +"Why do you tell me all this?" he asked at length. +</p> + +<p> +"I want you to know. And I am so glad!" The lilt had crept back into her +voice. +</p> + +<p> +"I congratulate you," he replied drily. +</p> + +<p> +"Stupid! Oh, stupid!" she cried. "Do you not see why I am glad? It is you! +Now you shall not sit forever in the darkness. You shall go back to your +doctor, who will arrange your eyes." +</p> + +<p> +"Why?" asked Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +"Why!" she repeated, astonished. "But it is 'why not!' Listen! Have you +thought? Winkleman is now but a week's march from M'tela. And here, where +we stand, it is perhaps twenty days, perhaps more. Winkleman would arrive +nearly two weeks ahead of you. Tell me, how long would it take you to win +M'tela's friendship so it would not be shaken?" +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi's face lit with a grim smile. +</p> + +<p> +"A week," he promised confidently. +</p> + +<p> +"You see! And Herr Winkleman is equal to you; you have said so yourself. +Is not it so?" +</p> + +<p> +"It's so, all right." +</p> + +<p> +"Then--you see?" +</p> + +<p> +"I see." +</p> + +<p> +"Then we shall go back to the doctor. Oh, do you not see it is for that I +am glad--truly, truly! You must believe me that!" +</p> + +<p> +"I believe you," said Kingozi. "Nevertheless, I do not think I shall go +back." +</p> + +<p> +"But that is madness. You cannot arrive in time. And it is to lose your +eyes all for nothing, for a foolish idea that you do your duty!" +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi shook his head. She wrung her hands in despair. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I know that look of you!" she cried. "You see only down your narrow +lane!" +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xxiii">CHAPTER XXIII</a></h2> + +<h3>THE COUNCIL OF WAR</h3> + +<p> +That evening Kingozi called to him Cazi Moto, Simba, and Mali-ya-bwana. He +commanded them to build a little fire, and when the light from the leaping +flames had penetrated his dull vision, he told them to sit down before +him. Thus they knew that a serious council was intended. They squatted on +their heels below the white man in his chair, and looked up at him with +bright, devoted eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Listen," he said. "The matter is this: the <i>Inglishee</i> are at war with +the <i>Duyche</i>. Over from the Congo comes a <i>Duyche</i> known as <i>Bwana</i> +Nyele.[<a href="#14">14</a>] It is his business to reach this <i>shenzi</i> king, M'tela, and +persuade M'tela to fight on the side of the <i>Duyche</i>. It is our business +to reach M'tela and persuade him to fight on the side of the <i>Inglishee</i>. +Is that understood?" +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="14">14</a>: <i>Bwana</i> Nyele--the master with the mane, i.e., beard or +hair.] +</p> + +<p> +"It is understood, <i>bwana</i>" said they. +</p> + +<p> +"But this <i>Duyche, Bwana</i> Nyele, is only one week's march from M'tela; and +he undoubtedly has many gifts for M'tela and the Kabilagani. And we are +many days' safari distant, and I am blind and cannot hurry." he three +uttered little clucks of sympathy and interest. +</p> + +<p> +"But for all that we may win. You three men are my eyes and my right hand. +I have a plan, and this is what you must do: Cazi Moto must stay with me +to be headman of safari, and to be my eyes when we come to M'tela's land. +You Simba, and you Mali-ya-bwana, must go with six of the best men to +where <i>Bwana</i> Nyele is marching. These two strange <i>shenzis</i> will guide +you. Then when you are near the safari of <i>Bwana</i> Nyele you must arrange +so that these <i>shenzis</i> can have no talk with any of the safari of <i>Bwana</i> +Nyele. That is understood?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>," said Simba. "Do we kill these <i>shenzis?</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"No, do not kill them. Tie them fast." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>, and then?" +</p> + +<p> +"This is the most difficult. You must get hold of <i>Bwana</i> Nyele, and you +must tie him fast also, and keep him from his safari. He is a +<i>m'zungu</i>[<a href="#15">15</a>], yes--but he is a <i>Duyche</i>, and my enemy, and these things +are right, because I command it." +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="15">15</a>: <i>M'zungu</i>--white man.] +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Then you must keep <i>Bwana</i> Nyele and these two <i>shenzis</i> close in camp, +hidden where their safari cannot find them. And after two weeks you must +send two men to M'tela's to find me, and to tell me where you are hidden. +Now is all that understood? You, Simba, tell me what you are to do." +</p> + +<p> +"Mali-ya-bwana, myself, six men and these <i>shenzis</i> travel to where the +safari of <i>Bwana</i> Nyele marches. When we are near that safari we tie up +the two <i>shenzis</i>. Then we get <i>Bwana</i> Nyele and tie him up in a secret +camp. Then after two weeks we send two men to tell the <i>bwana</i> where we +are. But, <i>bwana</i>, how do we get <i>Bwana</i> Nyele?" +</p> + +<p> +"That I will tell you soon. One thing you forgot: you must reach the +<i>Duyche</i> before he gets into M'tela's country. This means travel night and +day--fast travel. Can this be done?" +</p> + +<p> +"We shall pick good men, <i>bwana</i>, runners of the Wakamba. We shall do our +best." +</p> + +<p> +"Good. Each man four days' <i>potio</i>, and what biltong he can use. Simba, +take my small rifle and fifty cartridges. Take some snuff, beads, and +wire--only a little--to trade for <i>potio</i> if you meet with other people. +Understood?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Cazi Moto," he directed, "bring me the small box of wood from my +<i>sandoko</i>." +</p> + +<p> +He slid the cover off this box when it was delivered into his hands, +fumbled a moment, and held up an object. +</p> + +<p> +"What is this?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"It is a bone, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, it is a bone; but it is more. It is a magic. With this you will take +<i>Bwana</i> Nyele." +</p> + +<p> +He could sense the stir of interest in the three men before him. +</p> + +<p> +"Listen carefully. This is what you must do. When you have come near to +this safari, you must follow it until it has put down its loads and is +just about to make camp. Not a rest period on the road; not after camp is +made--just at the moment when the men begin to untie the loads, when they +begin to pitch the tents. That is the magic time. Understand?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>," they chorused breathlessly. +</p> + +<p> +"Simba must be ready. He must take off his clothes, and he must oil his +body and paint it, and put on the ornaments of a <i>shenzi</i> of this country. +For that purpose he must take with him the necklace, the armlets, anklets, +and belt that I traded for with the <i>shenzis</i>, and which Cazi Moto will +get from my tent. Do you know the style of painting of these <i>shenzis</i> of +the plains, Simba?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"It is important that you make yourself a <i>shenzi</i>. This magic is a bad +magic otherwise. Then at the moment I have named, Simba as a <i>shenzi</i> will +take this magic bone and hold it out to <i>Bwana</i> Nyele saying nothing. +<i>Bwana</i> Nyele will say words, perhaps in Swahili which Simba will +understand; perhaps in some other language which he will not understand. +Simba must point thus; and then must start in that direction. <i>Bwana</i> +Nyele will follow a few steps. Then Simba will say: 'Many more, <i>bwana</i>, +over there only a little distance.'" Kingozi uttered this last sentence in +atrocious Swahili. "You must say it in just that way, like a <i>shenzi</i>. Say +it." +</p> + +<p> +Simba repeated the words and accent. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that is it. Then say nothing more, no matter what he asks; and do +not let him touch the magic bone. Point. He will follow you; and when he +has followed out of sight of the safari you will all seize him and tie him +fast. The rest is as I have commanded." +</p> + +<p> +"How does <i>bwana</i> know how these things will happen thus?" breathed Simba +in awestricken tones. +</p> + +<p> +"It is a magic," replied Kingozi gravely. +</p> + +<p> +Over and over he drilled them until the details were thoroughly +understood. Then he dismissed them and leaned back with a sigh. The plan +was simple, but ought to work. At the moment of making camp Winkleman +would be less apt than at any other time to take with him an escort--especially if his interest or cupidity were aroused--for every one would +be exceedingly busy. And no fear about the interest and cupidity! The +"magic" bone Kingozi had confided to Simba was a fragment of a Pleistocene +fossil. Kingozi himself valued it highly, but he hoped and expected to get +it back. It made excellent bait, which no scientist could resist. Of +course there might be a second white man with Winkleman, but from the +reported size of the latter's safari he thought not. All in all, Kingozi +had great reliance in his magic. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of fifteen minutes Simba came to report. +</p> + +<p> +"All is ready, <i>bwana</i>," he said, "and we start now. But if <i>bwana</i> could +let me take a lantern, which I have in my hand, we could travel also at +night." +</p> + +<p> +The lantern, as Kingozi well knew, was not for the purpose of casting +light in the path, but as some slight measure of protection against lions. +</p> + +<p> +"Let me have it," he ordered. It was passed into his hands, and proved to +be one of the two oil lanterns kept for emergencies. +</p> + +<p> +But Kingozi sent the headman for one of the candle lanterns in everyday +use, and a half-dozen short candles. +</p> + +<p> +"These are better," he said; "and <i>qua heri</i>, Simba. If you do these +things well, large <i>backsheeshi</i> for you all." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Qua heri, bwana</i>" said Simba, and was gone. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xxiv">CHAPTER XXIV</a></h2> + +<h3>M'TELA'S COUNTRY</h3> + +<p> +To the bewilderment of the Leopard Woman the pace of the safari now +slackened. Heretofore the marches had been stretched to the limit of +endurance; now the day's journey was as leisurely as that of a sportsman's +caravan. It started at daybreak, to be sure, but it ended at noon, unless +exigencies of water required an hour or two additional. As a matter of +fact, Kingozi knew that he had done everything possible. If Simba & Co. +succeeded, then there was no immediate hurry; if they failed, hurry would +be useless. +</p> + +<p> +Bibi-ya-chui noticed the absence of two such prominent members of the +safari as Simba and Mali-ya-bwana, of course, but readily accepted +Kingozi's explanation that he had sent them "as messengers." +</p> + +<p> +The little safari for the third time crawled its antlike way across the +immensities of the veldt. Cazi Moto managed to keep them supplied with +meat, but at an excessive expenditure of cartridges. As he used the +Leopard Woman's rifle, this did not so much matter, for she was abundantly +supplied. At last the blue ranges rose before them; each day's journey +defined their outlines better. The foothills began to sketch themselves, +to separate from the ranges, finally to surround the travellers with the +low swells of broken country. Running water replaced the still water-holes. Cazi Moto reported herds of goats in the distance. One evening +several of the goatherds ventured into camp. They spoke no Swahili, but at +the name M'tela they nodded vigorously, and at the mention of Kabilagani +they pointed at their own breasts. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish I had eyes!" cried Kingozi petulantly. "What kind of people are +they?" +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman told him as best she could--tall, well-formed, copper in +hue, of a pleasing expression, clad scantily in goat skins. +</p> + +<p> +"Their ornaments, their arms?" cried Kingozi with impatience. +</p> + +<p> +"They are poor people," replied Bibi-ya-chui. "They have armlets of iron +beaten out, and necklaces of shell fragments or bone. They carry spears +with a short blade, broad like a leaf." +</p> + +<p> +"Their armlets are not of wire? They have no cowrie shells?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, it is beaten iron----" +</p> + +<p> +"Good!" cried Kingozi. "There has been little or no trading here!" +</p> + +<p> +One of the goatherds went with them as guide to M'tela. +</p> + +<p> +"Without doubt," Kingozi surmised, "others have run on to warn M'tela of +our coming." +</p> + +<p> +Their way led on a gentle, steady up grade without steep climbs. The +hills, at first only scattered, low hummocks, became higher, more +numerous, closed in on them; until, before they knew it, they found +themselves walking up the flat bed of a cañon between veritable mountains. +The end of the view, the Leopard Woman said, was shut by a frowning, +unbroken rampart many thousands of feet high. +</p> + +<p> +"Then we are due for a climb," sighed Kingozi. "These native tracks never +hunt for a grade! When they want to go up, why up they go!" +</p> + +<p> +But the head of the cañon, instead of stopping against the wall, bent +sharply to the left. A "saddle" was disclosed. +</p> + +<p> +Toward this the hard-beaten track led. Shortly it began to mount steeply, +and shortly after it entered a high forest growing on the abrupt slopes. +Here it was cool and mysterious, with green shadows, and the swing of rope +vines, and the sudden remoteness of glimpsed skies. The earth was soft and +moist under foot; so the dampness of it rose to the nostrils. Vines and +head-high bracken and feather growths covered the ground. In every shallow +ravine were groves of tree ferns forty feet tall. A silence dwelt there, a +different silence from that of the veldt at night; compounded of a few +simple elements, such as the faint, incessant drip of hidden waters and +occasional loud, hollowly echoing noises such as the bark of a colobus or +the scream of a hyrax. There were birds, rare, flashing, brilliant, +furtive birds, but they said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +Through this forest on edge the path led steeply upward. Sometimes it was +almost perpendicular; sometimes it took an angle; sometimes--but rarely--it paused at a little ledge wide enough to rest nearly the whole safari at +once. +</p> + +<p> +For an hour and a half they climbed, then topped the rim of the escarpment +and emerged from the forest at the same time. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately they were a thousand leagues from the Africa they knew. A +gently rolling country stretched out before them with sweeps of green +grass shoulder high, and compact groves of trees as though planted. For +miles it undulated away until the very multitude of its low, peaceful +hills shut in the horizon. Cattle grazed in the wide-flung hollows, and +little herds of game; goats and sheep dotted the hills. The groves of +trees were very green. Everything breathed of peace and plenty. Almost +would one with proper childhood recollections listen for a church-going +bell, search for spires and cottage roofs among the trees. Slim columns of +smoke rose straight into the motionless air. The very sun seemed to have +abated its African fierceness, and to have become mild. +</p> + +<p> +Some of these things Kingozi learned from Cazi Moto; some from the Leopard +Woman; each after his kind. +</p> + +<p> +About a half-mile away a number of warriors in single file walked across +the wide valley and disappeared in the forest to the left. They carried +heavy spears and oval shields painted in various designs. A fillet bound +long ostrich plumes that slanted backward on either side the head; and as +they walked forward in the rather teetery fashion of the savage dandy +these plumes waved up and down in rhythm. +</p> + +<p> +"M'tela," said the <i>shenzi</i> goatherd waving his hand abroad. +</p> + +<p> +They camped at the edge of a pleasant grove near running water. The donkey +that the Leopard Woman rode fell to the tall lush grasses with a +thankfulness beyond all expression. All the safari was in high spirits. +They saw <i>potio</i> in sight again; and, immediately, long grass for beds. +</p> + +<p> +Visitors came in shortly--a dozen armed men, like the warriors seen +earlier in the day, and a dignified older man who spoke a sufficient +Swahili. Kingozi received these in a friendly fashion, did not permit them +to sit, but at once began to cross-question them. The Leopard Woman +emerged from her tent. +</p> + +<p> +"Stay where you are," Kingozi called to her in decided tones. "You must in +this permit me to judge of expediencies. I forbid you to hold any +communication with these people. I hope you will not make it necessary for +me to take measures to see that my wishes are carried out." +</p> + +<p> +She showed no irritation, not even at the "forbid," but smiled quietly, +and without reply returned to her tent. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said the old man, "this was M'tela's country, these were M'tela's +people." He disclaimed having been sent by M'tela. +</p> + +<p> +At this point Kingozi, apparently losing all interest, dismissed them into +the hands of Cazi Moto. The latter, previously instructed, took his guests +to his own camp. There he distributed roast meat, one <i>balauri</i> of coffee +to the old man, and many tales, some of them true. These people had never +before laid eyes on a white man, but naturally, at this late date in +African history, all had heard more or less of the phenomenon. Cazi Moto +found that the distinction between <i>Inglishee</i> and <i>Duyche</i> was known. He +left a general impression that Kingozi was the favourite son of the King, +come from sheer friendship and curiosity to see M'tela, whose fame was +universal. For two hours the warriors squatted, or walked about camp +examining with carefully concealed curiosity its various activities and +strange belongings. Then all disappeared. No more people appeared that +day. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi knew well enough that this was a spying party sent directly from +M'tela's court; and that, pending its report, nothing more was to be done. +Cazi Moto's detailed description of what had been said and done cheered +his master wonderfully. By all the signs the simplest of the white man's +wonders were brand new to the visitors; <i>ergo</i> Winkleman could not have +arrived. If he were not yet at M'tela's court, the chances seemed good +that Simba and the magic bone had succeeded. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing at present could be done. Kingozi sent Cazi Moto out to kill an +abundance of game. The little headman returned later to report the +extraordinary luck of two zebra to two cartridges (at thirty yards to be +sure!) and that after each kill very many <i>shenzis</i> gathered to examine +the bullet wound, the gun, and the distance. They were immensely excited, +not at all awestricken, entirely friendly. There was no indication of any +desire to rob the hunters. Evidently, Kingozi reflected, they were +familiar with firearms by hearsay, and were deeply interested at this +first hand experience. +</p> + +<p> +The safari remained encamped at this spot all the next day, and the day +succeeding. Natives came into camp, at first only the men, hesitatingly; +then the women. A brisk little trade sprang up for yams, bananas, +<i>m'wembe</i> meal, eggs, and milk. No shrewder bargainer exists than your +African safari man, and these soon discovered that beads and wire +possessed great purchasing power in this unsophisticated country. The +bartering had to be done in sign language, as Swahili seemed to be +unknown; and no man in the safari understood this unknown tongue. Kingozi +sat in state before his tent, smoking his pipe--which he still enjoyed in +spite of his blindness--and awaiting events in that vast patience so +necessary to the successful African traveller. Occasionally a group of the +chatting natives would drift toward his throne, would fall into +awestricken silence, would stare, would drift away again; but none +addressed him. The Leopard Woman, obeying rules that Kingozi had managed +to convey as very strict, held apart. Only in the evening, after the lion-fearing visitors had all departed, did they sit together sociably by the +fire. The nights at this elevation were cool--cold they seemed to the +heat-seasoned travellers. +</p> + +<p> +There was not much conversation. Kingozi was lost in a deep brooding, +which she respected. The occasion was serious, and both knew it. During +the moment of decision the man's duty and principle had been the most +important matters in the world. Once the decision was irrevocably made, +however, these things fell below the horizon. There loomed only the +thought of perpetual blindness. Kingozi faced it bravely; but such a fact +requires adjustment, and in these hours of waiting the adjustments were +being made. +</p> + +<p> +Only once or twice did Bibi-ya-chui utter the thoughts that continually +possessed her. +</p> + +<p> +"It seems so foolish!" she complained to him. "You are making yourself +blind for always; and you are going to be a prisoner for long! If you +would go back, you would not be captured and held by Winkleman when you +reach M'tela!" +</p> + +<p> +But such expostulations she knew to be vain, even as she uttered them. +</p> + +<p> +At about nine o'clock of the third day Cazi Moto reported a file of +warriors, many warriors--"like the leaves of grass!" armed with spears and +shields, wearing black ostrich plumes, debouching from the grove a mile +across the way. At the same instant the Leopard Woman, her alarm causing +her to violate her instructions, came to Kingozi's camp. +</p> + +<p> +"They attack us!" she cried. "They come in thousands! How can we resist so +many--and you blind! Tell me what I shall do!" +</p> + +<p> +"There is no danger," Kingozi reassured her. "This is undoubtedly an +escort. No natives ever attack at this hour of the day. Their time is just +at first dawn." +</p> + +<p> +She sighed with relief. Then a new thought struck her. +</p> + +<p> +"But if they had wished to attack--at dawn--we have had no extra guards--we have not fortified! What would prevent their killing us all?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not a thing," replied Kingozi calmly. "We are too weak for resistance. +That is a chance we had to take. Now please go back to your tent. Cazi +Moto, strike camp, and get ready to safari." +</p> + +<p> +The warriors of M'tela debouched on the open plain, seemingly without end. +The sun glinted from their upraised, polished spears; their ostrich plumes +swayed gently as though a wind ruffled a field of sombre grain tassels; +the anklets and leg bracelets clashed softly together to produce in the +aggregate a rhythmic marching cadence. Their front was nearly a quarter of +a mile in width. Rank after rank in succession appeared: literally +thousands. Drums roared and throbbed; and the blowing of innumerable +trumpets, fashioned mostly from the horns of oryx and sing-sing, added to +the martial ensemble. +</p> + +<p> +The members of the safari were gathered in little knots, staring, wide +eyed with apprehension. Upon them descended zealous Cazi Moto. Even his +<i>kiboko</i> had difficulty in breaking up the groups, in setting the men at +the commonplace occupations of breaking camp. Yet that must be done, in +all decent dignity; and at length it was done. +</p> + +<p> +The first ranks were now fairly at the outskirts of camp; the last had but +just left the woods. The plains were literally covered with spearmen. A +magnificent sight! They came to a halt, raised their spears horizontally +above their heads; the horns and drums redoubled their din; a mighty, +concerted shout rent the air. Then abruptly fell dead silence. +</p> + +<p> +From the front rank a tall, impressive savage stepped forward, pacing with +dignified stride. He walked directly to Kingozi's chair. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Jambo, bwana!</i>" He uttered his greeting in deep chest tones that rumbled +like distant thunder. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Jambo, n'ympara</i>," responded Kingozi in a mild tone. By his use of the +word <i>n'ympara</i>--headman--he indicated his perfect understanding of the +fact that this man, for all his magnificence, for all the strength of his +escort, was not M'tela himself, but only one of M'tela's ministers. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Jambo, bwana m'kubwa!</i>" rolled the latter. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Jambo</i>" replied Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Jambo, bwana m'kubwa-sana!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Jambo</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Jambo, bwana m'kubwa-sana!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Jambo</i>." +</p> + +<p> +Having thus climbed by easy steps to the superlative greeting, the +minister uttered his real message. As befitted his undoubted position in +court, he spoke excellent Swahili. +</p> + +<p> +"I am come to take you to the <i>manyatta</i> of M'tela," he announced. +</p> + +<p> +"That is well," replied Kingozi calmly. "In one hour we shall go." +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xxv">CHAPTER XXV</a></h2> + +<h3>M'TELA</h3> + +<p> +They set off through the beautiful country in their usual order of march. +The warriors of M'tela accompanied them, walking ahead, behind, and on +either flank. The drums roared incessantly, the trumpets of horn sounded. +It was a triumphal procession, but rather awe-inspiring. The safari men +did their best to imitate Kingozi's attitude of indifference; and +succeeded fairly well, but their eyes rolled in their heads. +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman sat her donkey, and surveyed it all with appreciative +eyes. In spite of Kingozi's reassuring words, the impression of savage +power as the warriors debouched from the wood had been vivid enough to +give emphasis to a strong feeling of relief when their intentions proved +peaceful. The revulsion accentuated her enjoyment of the picturesque +aspects of the scene. The shining, naked bodies, the waving ostrich +plumes, the glitter of spears, the glint of polished iron, the wild, +savage expression of the men, the throb of barbaric music appealed to her +artistic sense. In a way her mind was at rest. At least the striving was +over. Kingozi had made his decision; it was no use to struggle against it +longer. She had no doubt that now they were virtually prisoners, that they +were being conducted in this impressive manner to a chieftain already won +over by Winkleman. The latter had had more than the time necessary to +carry out his purpose. Kingozi's persistence was maddeningly futile; but +it was part of the man, and she could not but acquiesce. +</p> + +<p> +They marched across the open grassy plain, and into the woods beyond. A +wide, beaten track took them through, as though they walked in a lofty +tunnel with green walls through which one could look, but beyond which one +might not pass. Then out into the sunlight again, skirting a swamp of +plumed papyrus with many waterfowl, and swarms of insects, and birds +wheeling swiftly catching the insects, and other larger birds soaring +grandly above on the watch-out for what might chance. This swamp was like +a green river flowing bank high between the hills. It twisted out of sight +around wooded promontories. And the hills, constantly rising in height, +crowned with ever-thickening forests, extended as far as the eye could +reach. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of the straight vista they turned sharp to the right and +climbed a tongue of land--what would be called a "hog's-back" in the West. +It was grown sparsely with trees, and commanded a wide outlook. Now the +sinuous course of the papyrus swamp could be followed for miles in its +vivid green; and the tops of the forest trees lay spread like a mantle. +The top of the "hog's-back" had been flattened, and on it stood M'tela's +palace. +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman stared curiously. There was not much to be seen. A high +stockade of posts and wattle shut off the view, but over it could be +distinguished a thatched roof. It was rectangular instead of circular and +appeared to be at least forty feet long--a true, royal palace. Smaller +roofs surrounded it. Outside the gate stood several more of the gorgeous +spearmen, rigidly at attention. Not another soul was in sight. +</p> + +<p> +But whatever seemed to lack either in the cordiality or curiosity of the +inhabitants was more than made up for by the escort. With admirable +military precision, a precision that Kingozi would have appreciated could +he have seen it, they deployed across the wide open space at the front of +the plateau. The drums lined up before them. In the echoing enclosure of +the forest walls the noise was prodigious. And then abruptly, as before, +it fell. In the silence the voice of the old headman was heard: +</p> + +<p> +"Here will be found the way to the guest houses," he urged gently. +</p> + +<p> +The ragged safari, carrying its loads, plunged again into a forest path, +walking single file, a tatterdemalion crew. And yet a philosophic observer +might have caught a certain nonchalance, a faint superiority of bearing on +the part of these scarecrows; ridiculous when considered against the +overwhelming numbers, the military spruceness, the savage formidability of +the wild hordes that surrounded them. And if he had been an experienced as +well as a philosophic observer he could have named the quality that +informed them. Even in these truly terrifying, untried conditions it +persisted--the white man's <i>prestige</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The forest path, wide and well-trodden, led them a scant quarter mile to a +cleared wide space on the very edge of the hill, which here fell abruptly +away. A large circular guest house occupied the centre point, and other +smaller houses surrounded it at a respectful distance. To the right hand +were the tops of trees on a lower elevation; to the left and at the rear +the solid wall of forest; immediately in front a wide outlook over the +papyrus swamp and the partly clothed hills beyond. +</p> + +<p> +Their guides--for there were several--indicated the guest houses, and +silently disappeared. The safari was alone with its own devices. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi's practical voice broke the slight awe that all this savage +magnificence had imposed. +</p> + +<p> +"Cazi Moto!" he commanded, "tell me what is here." +</p> + +<p> +He listened attentively while the wizen-faced little headman gave a +detailed account, not only of the present dispositions, but also of what +had been seen during the short march to M'tela's stronghold. At the +conclusion of this recital he called to the Leopard Woman. +</p> + +<p> +"I am here, near you," she answered. +</p> + +<p> +"You must be my eyes for this," he told her. "Look into the large guest +house. Is it clean? Is it fairly new?" +</p> + +<p> +She reported favourably as to these points. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry, but I must take it over for myself," he said. "Matter not of +comfort, but of prestige. You would do best to pitch your tent somewhere +near. Cazi Moto, let the men make camp as usual." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well," she agreed to her part of this program. Her manner was very +gentle; and she looked on him, could he have known it, with eyes of a +tender compassion. His was a brave heart, but Winkleman must long since +have arrived---- +</p> + +<p> +She moved slowly away to superintend the placing of her tent, reflecting +on these matters. It was decent of Winkleman to keep himself in the +background just at first. Time enough to convince poor blind Kingozi that +the game was up when he had to some extent recovered from the strain and +fatigue of the long journey. But Winkleman was a good sort. She knew him: +a big, hearty, bearded Bavarian, polyglot, intensely scientific, with a +rolling deep voice. He must have had ten days--a week anyway--to use his +acknowledged arts and influence on the savage king. Kingozi had said a +week would be enough--and Kingozi knew! She sighed deeply as she thought +of the doom to which his own obstinacy had condemned that remarkable man. +Her eyes wandered to where he sat in his canvas chair, superintending +through the ever-efficient Cazi Moto the details of the camp. His +shoulders were sagging forward wearily, and his face in repose fell into +lines of infinite sadness. Her heart melted within her; and in a sudden +revulsion she flamed against Winkleman and all his diabolical efficiency. +After all, this little corner of an unknown land could not mean so much to +the general result, and it would be so glorious a consolation to a brave +man's blindness! Then she became ashamed of herself as a traitor. Her tent +was now ready; so she entered it, bathed, clad herself in her silks, and +hung the jewel on her forehead. Once more the serene mistress of herself, +she came forth to view the sights. +</p> + +<p> +It was by now near the setting of the sun. The forest shadows were rising. +Colobus were calling, and birds. Up a steep trail from the swamp came a +long procession of women and little girls. They were all stark naked, and +each carried on her head an earthen vessel or a greater or lesser gourd +according to her strength. They passed near the large guest house, and +there poured the water from their vessels into a series of big jars. Thus +every drop of water had to be transported up the hill, not only for the +guest camp, but for all M'tela's thousands somewhere back in the +mysterious forest. These women were of every age and degree of +attractiveness; but all were slender, and each possessed a fine-textured +skin of red bronze. Except the very old, whose breasts had fallen, they +were finely shaped. The rays of the sun outlined them. They seemed quite +unaware of their nakedness. Their faces were good-humoured; and some of +them even smiled shyly at the white woman standing by her tent. Having +poured out the water, they disappeared down the forest path. +</p> + +<p> +Thence shortly appeared other women with huge burdens of firewood carried +by means of a strap, after the fashion of the Canadian tump-line; and +still others with <i>m'wembe</i>, bananas, yams, eggs, <i>n'jugu</i> nuts, and +gourds of smoked milk. Evidently M'tela did not do things by halves. +</p> + +<p> +The customary routine of the camp went on. Supper was served as usual; and +as usual the Leopard Woman joined Kingozi for the meal. The occasion was +constrained on her side, easy on his. He asked her various questions as to +details of the surroundings which she answered accurately but a little +absently. She spoke from the surface of her mind. Within herself she was +listening and waiting--listening for the first sound of shod feet, wailing +for the moment when Winkleman should see fit to declare himself and end +the suspense. +</p> + +<p> +So high was this inner tension that she fairly jumped from her chair as a +demoniac shrieking wail burst from the forest near at hand. It was +answered farther away. Other voices took up the cry. It was as though a +thousand devils in shuddering pain were giving tongue. +</p> + +<p> +"Tree hyraxes," Kingozi reassured her. +</p> + +<p> +"Those tiny beasts!" she cried incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +"Just so. Sweet voices, haven't they? Some of these people must be wearing +hyrax robes." +</p> + +<p> +And indeed she remembered seeing some of the soft, beautiful karosses. +</p> + +<p> +But now from the direction of M'tela's palaces arose a confused murmur +that swelled as a multitude drew near. The drums began again. Soon, the +Leopard Woman described, torches began to flash through the trees. At the +same moment Cazi Moto came to report. +</p> + +<p> +"Build up a big fire," commanded Kingozi. He turned to the Leopard Woman. +</p> + +<p> +"This is likely to be an all-night session," he said resignedly. "If you +want to get out of it, I advise you to go now. Not that you'll be able to +get any sleep. But if you stay, you must stick it out. It would never do +to leave in the middle of the performance. Some of it you won't like." +</p> + +<p> +"What is it to be?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ceremonial dances, I fancy." +</p> + +<p> +"I think I shall stay," she said slowly. +</p> + +<p> +In her heart she thought it extremely unlikely that the performance would +last all night. Indeed her own opinion was that Kingozi would be a +prisoner within an hour. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi settled himself stolidly in his chair before the fire that was now +beginning to eat its way through an immense pile of fuel, where, during +all subsequent events, he remained in the same attitude. +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman, on the contrary looked with all her eyes. The torches +came nearer. People began to pour out from the woods. There were warriors +in full panoply; lithe, naked men carrying only wands peeled fresh to the +white; women hung heavily with cowries; other women with neither garment +nor ornament, their bodies oiled and glistening. A deep, rolling chant +arose from hundreds of throats, punctuated and carried by a sort of +shrill, intermittent ululation. The drums were there, but for the moment +they were not being beaten in cadence, only rubbed until they roared in +undertone to the men's chanting. +</p> + +<p> +All these people divided to right and left in the clearing of the guest +camp, and took their stations. More and more appeared. The space filled, +filled solidly, until at last there was no break in the mass of humanity +except for a circle forty feet in diameter about the fire. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly a group of fifteen or twenty men detached themselves from the +main body and leaped into this cleared space. The great chant still rolled +on; but now a varied theme was introduced by a chorus of the nearby women. +The dancers were oiled to a high state of polish, naked except for a +single plume apiece and a sort of tasselled tail hung to a string belt. +They clustered in a close group near the fire, facing a common centre. In +deep chest tones they pronounced the word <i>goom</i>, at the same time half +crouching; then in sharp staccato head tones the word <i>zup</i>, at the same +time rising swiftly up and toward their common centre. It was like the ebb +and surge of a wave, the alternate smooth crouch and spring over and over +again--<i>goom, zup! goom, zup! goom, zup!</i>--and behind it the twinkle of +torches, the gleam of eyes, the roll of the deep-voiced chanting. +</p> + +<p> +Endlessly they repeated this performance. The Leopard Woman, watching, at +last had to close her eyes in order to escape the hypnotic quality of it. +In spite of herself her senses swam in the rhythmic monotony. All outside +the focus of the dancers turned gray--<i>goom, zup! goom, zup!</i>--was it +never to end? And then it seemed to her that it never would end, that thus +it would go on forever, and that so it was just and right. The men were +tireless. The sweat glistened on their bodies, but their eyes gleamed +fanatically. She floated off on a tide of irrelevant thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +Hours later, as it seemed to her, she came to herself suddenly. Kingozi +still sat stolidly in his chair. The dancers were retiring step by step, +still with unabated vigour, continuing their performance. They melted into +the crowd. +</p> + +<p> +Now a pellmell of bizarre figures broke out. They were bedecked +fantastically: some of them were painted with white clay; one was clad in +the skins of beasts. There was no rhythm or order to their entrance; but +immediately they began to dash here and there shouting. +</p> + +<p> +"It is the Lion Dance, <i>memsahib</i>," Cazi Moto told her in a low voice. +"That one is the lion; and they hunt him with spears in the long grass." +</p> + +<p> +The chase went forward with some verisimilitude, and yet with a symbolic +syncopation that indicated the Lion Dance was a very ancient and +conventional ceremony. These dancers gave way to a chorus of singers. For +interminable hours, so it seemed, they chanted a high, shrill recitative, +carried in fugue by deeper voices. The burden of the song was evidently an +impromptu. Occasionally some peculiarly apt or pleasing phrase was caught +up for endless repetition. And in the background, against the farther +background of the undistinguished masses, those who had formerly carried +on their performances in the full glare of front-row publicity and the +campfire, now continued their efforts almost unabated. The impressive +utterers of the <i>goom-zup</i> shibboleth, the slayers of the symbolical lion, +carried on still. Indeed as the night wore on, and one group of dancers +succeeded another, the homogeneous crowd began to break into varied +activity. Each took his turn as principal, then fell back to form part of +the variegated background. Each dance was different. Warriors fully armed +clashed shield and spear; witch doctors crouched and sprang; women stamped +in rhythm; the elephant was hunted, the crops sown and gathered, all the +activities of community and individual life were danced, the frankness of +some saved from obscenity only by the unconscious earnestness of their +exposition and the evidence of their symbolism that they were not the +expression of the moment but very ancient customs. +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman watched it all with shining eyes. The emotion of the +picturesque, the call of savage wildness, the contagion of a mounting +community excitement caused the blood to race through her veins. The drums +throbbed against her heart as the pulse throbbed against her temples. She +resisted an actual impulse to rise from her chair, to throw herself with +abandon into an orgy of rhythm and motion. Perfectly she understood those +who, having reached the breaking point, dashed madly through the fire +scattering embers and coals, or who darted forward to kiss ecstatically +the white man's feet, or who reached a wild paroxysm of nerves to collapse +the next instant into exhaustion. She was brought to herself by Kingozi's +calm voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Sweet riot, isn't it?" he remarked. "They're working themselves up to a +high pitch. It's always that way. You would think they'd drop from sheer +weariness." +</p> + +<p> +"How long will they keep it up?" she asked, drawing a deep breath, and +trying to speak naturally. +</p> + +<p> +"So it got you, too, a little, did it?" he said curiously. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean?" +</p> + +<p> +"The excitement. It's contagious unless you are accustomed to it. I've +seen safe and sane youngsters go quite off their heads at these shows, and +dash down and caper around like the maddest <i>shenzi</i> of them all. Felt it +myself at first. It draws you; like wanting to jump off when you look down +from a high place." He was talking evenly and carelessly. "Enough of this +sort of thing will make a crowd see anything. Devil-worshippers for +instance, they see red devils, after they work up to it, not a doubt of +it." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," she answered his evident purpose of bringing her to herself. +</p> + +<p> +"All right now, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, to answer your question; I've known dances to last two days." +</p> + +<p> +"Heaven!" she cried, dismayed. +</p> + +<p> +"But this is to prepare a suitable entrance for his majesty. We'll hear +from him along toward daylight." He held out his wrist watch toward her. +"What time now?" +</p> + +<p> +Somehow the simple action seemed to her pathetic. Her eyes filled, and she +stooped as though to kiss the outstretched hand. Never again would the +worn old wrist watch serve its owner, except thus, vicariously! +</p> + +<p> +"It is ten minutes past the twelve," she answered in a stifled voice. +</p> + +<p> +"We must settle down to it. If you want tea or something to eat, tell Cazi +Moto." +</p> + +<p> +He resumed his stolid demeanour. +</p> + +<p> +The dancing continued. Every once in a while women threw armfuls of fuel +on the blaze. The tree hyraxes, out-screeched and outnumbered, fell into +silence or withdrew. Above the stars shone serenely; and all about stood +the trees of the ancient forest. Outside the hot, leaping red light they +drew back aloof and still. They had seen many dances, many ebbs and flows +of men's passions; for they were very old. +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman's vision blurred after a time. She was getting drowsy. +Her thoughts strayed. But always they circled back to the same point. She +found herself wondering whether Winkleman would appear to-night. +</p> + +<p> +A few hours earlier than Kingozi had predicted, in fact not far after two +o'clock, the wild dancing died to absolute immobility and absolute +silence, and M'tela arrived. +</p> + +<p> +He appeared walking casually as though out for a stroll, emerging from the +end of the wide forest path. Central African natives are never obese--comic papers to the contrary notwithstanding. Nevertheless, M'tela was a +large man, amply built, his muscles overlaid by smoother, softer flesh. He +possessed dignity without aloofness, a rare combination, and one that +invariably indicates a true feeling of superiority. As he moved forward he +glanced lazily and good-humouredly to right and left at his people, in the +manner of a genial grown-up among small children. He wore a piece of +cotton cloth dyed black, so draped as to leave one arm and shoulder bare, +a polished bone armlet, and a tarboush that must have been traded through +many hands. +</p> + +<p> +"The <i>sultani, bwana</i>," murmured the ever-alert Cazi Moto. +</p> + +<p> +M'tela wandered to where Kingozi sat. The white man did not move, but +appeared to stare absently straight before him. At ten paces M'tela +stopped and deliberately inspected his visitor for a full half-minute. +Then he advanced and dropped to the stool an obsequious and zealous slave +placed for him. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Jambo</i>, papa," he said casually. +</p> + +<p> +His manner was perfect. The thousand or so human beings who crowded the +clearing might not have existed. Himself and Kingozi, two equals, were +settling themselves for an informal little chat in the midst of solitudes. +His large intelligent eye passed over the Leopard Woman, but if her +appearance aroused in him any curiosity or other interest no flicker of +expression betrayed the fact. +</p> + +<p> +As he heard the form of address a brief gleam of satisfaction crossed +Kingozi's face. Whether it has been transferred from the English, or has +been adopted more directly from the babbling of infants, "papa" is +perfectly good Swahili. When M'tela addressed Kingozi as "papa" he not +only acknowledged him as a guest, but he admitted the white man to the +intimacy that exists between equals in rank. +</p> + +<p> +M'tela was friendly. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xxvi">CHAPTER XXVI</a></h2> + +<h3>WAITING</h3> + +<p> +Two days passed. By the end of that time it had been borne in on the +Leopard Woman that Winkleman had not yet arrived. Kingozi and M'tela +circled each other warily, like two strange dogs, though all the time with +an appearance of easy and intimate cordiality. As yet Kingozi had neither +confided to the savage the fact of his blindness nor visited the royal +palace. The latter ceremony he had evaded under one plea or another; and +the infliction he had managed to conceal by the simple expedient of +remaining in his canvas chair. Later would be time enough to acknowledge +so great a weakness; later when the subtle and specialized diplomacy he so +assiduously applied would have had time to do its work. +</p> + +<p> +For M'tela was initially friendly. This was a great satisfaction to +Kingozi, though none knew better than he how any chance gust of influence +or passion could veer the wind. Still it was something to start on; and +something more or less unexpected and unhoped for. M'tela himself supplied +the reason in the course of one of their interminable conversations. +</p> + +<p> +"I am pleased to see the white man," he said. "Never has the white man +come to my country before; but always I knew he would come. One time long +ago my brother who is king of the people near the Great Water said these +words to me: 'My brother, some day white men will come to you. They will +be few, and they will come with a small safari, and their wealth will look +small to you. But make no mistake. Where these few white men who look poor +come from are many more--like the leaves of the grass--and their wealth is +great and their wonders many; and for each white man that is speared ten +more come, without end, like water flowing down a hill. I know this to be +so, for I am an old man, and I have fought, and of all those who fought +the white man in my youth only I remain.' So I remembered these words of +my brother always." +</p> + +<p> +"You are a wise man, oh, King," said Kingozi, "for those words are true." +</p> + +<p> +Hourly Kingozi cursed his eyes. With this man so well-disposed a day--a +single hour--of the white man's miracles would have cemented his +friendship. But Kingozi was deprived at a stroke of the great advantages +to be gained by cutting out paper dolls, making coins disappear and appear +again, and all the rest of the bag of tricks. He had not even the +alternative advantage of a store of rich gifts with which to buy the +chief's favour. This crude alternative to subtle diplomacy he had scorned +when making out a small safari for a long journey. +</p> + +<p> +To be sure he was not doing badly. A box of matches and instructions in +the use thereof went far as an evidence of munificence. Sparingly he doled +out his few treasures--the gaudy blankets; coils of brass, copper, and +iron wires; beads; snuff; knives, and the like. They were received with +every mark of appreciation. In return firewood, water, and food of all +sorts came in abundantly. But these, Kingozi well knew, were only +temporizing evidences of good feeling. Time would come when M'tela would +ceremoniously bring in his real present--assuredly magnificent as +beseeming his power. Then, Kingozi knew, he should be able to reciprocate +in degree. He could not do so; he could not use his accustomed methods; he +could not even exhibit his trump card--the deadly wonder of the weapon +that could kill at a distance. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless he would have awaited the outcome with serene indifference +could he have been certain of a dear field. The arrival of Winkleman +would, he secretly admitted, upset him completely. Winkleman--another +white man, possessed of powers he did not possess, of wonders he did not +own, of knowledge equal to his--would have no difficulty in taking the +lead from him. Certainly Winkleman had not yet arrived, and he was long +overdue. On the other hand, neither had Simba nor Mali-ya-bwana reported; +and they were equally overdue. These were ticklish times; and Kingozi had +great difficulty in sitting calmly in his canvas chair listening to the +endless inconsequences of a savage. +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman could not understand how he did it. Her inner nervous +tension, due as much to a conflict as to suspense, drove her nearly +frantic. She knew that Winkleman's appearance spelled defeat for Kingozi; +she knew that she should hope for that appearance--and deep in her heart +she knew that she dreaded it! But as time went on without tangible +results, she began to long for it as a relief. At least it would be over +then. And Kingozi--oh, brave heart! oh, pathetic figure--if anything could +make it up to him----! +</p> + +<p> +The morning of the third day came. Usual camp activities carried them on +until nine o'clock. Kingozi was settled in his chair awaiting what the day +would bring forth. The Leopard Woman coming across from her tent to the +guest house stopped short at what she saw. +</p> + +<p> +Across the way, a half or three-quarters of a mile distant, beyond the +green papyrus swamp, on the slope from the edge of the forest, appeared a +long file of men bearing burdens on their heads. Even at this distance she +made out the colour of occasional garments of khaki cloth, or the green of +canvas on the packs. +</p> + +<p> +She arrived at Kingozi's side simultaneously with Cazi Moto. +</p> + +<p> +"A safari comes, <i>bwana</i>," said the latter. "It is across the swamp." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi's figure stiffened. +</p> + +<p> +"What kind of a safari?" he asked quietly. +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman answered him. There was no note of jubilation in her +voice. +</p> + +<p> +"It is a white man's safari," she told him. "I can see khaki--and they are +marching as a white man's safari marches." +</p> + +<p> +"Get my glasses," he told Cazi Moto. Then to her, his voice vibrating with +emotion too long controlled: "Look and tell me, fairly. I must know. +Whatever the outcome you must tell me truth. It will not matter. I can do +nothing." +</p> + +<p> +"I will tell you the truth," she promised, raising the glasses. +</p> + +<p> +For some moments she looked intently. +</p> + +<p> +"It is Winkleman's safari," she announced sadly. "I have been able to see. +It is a very large safari with many loads," she added. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi's face turned gray. He dropped his face into his hands. Gently she +laid her hand on his bowed head. Thus they waited, while the safari, +evidently under local guidance, plunged into some hidden path through the +papyrus, and so disappeared. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xxvii">CHAPTER XXVII</a></h2> + +<h3>THE MAGIC BONE</h3> + +<p> +Let us now follow Simba, Mali-ya-bwana, and their six men and the two +strange <i>shenzis</i> who were to act as guides. +</p> + +<p> +They started off across the veldt at about four o'clock of the afternoon +and travelled rapidly until dark. The gait they took was not a run, but it +got them over the ground at four and a half to five miles an hour. Shortly +after sundown they stopped for an hour, ate, drank, and lay flat on their +backs. Then they arose, lighted a candle end in the mica lantern, and +resumed their journey. Thus they travelled day and night for three days. +There seemed to be neither plan nor regularity to their journeying. +Whenever they became tired enough to sleep, they lay down and slept for a +little while; whenever they became hungry, they ate; and whenever they +thirsted, they drank, paying no attention whatever to the time of day, the +state of their larder, or the distance to more water. No ideas of +conservation hampered them in the least. If the water gave out, they +argued, they would be thirsty; but it was as well to be thirsty later from +lack of water than to be thirsty now from some silly idea of abstention. +No white man could have travelled successfully under that system. +Nevertheless, the little band held together and arrived in the fringe of +hills fit and comparatively fresh. +</p> + +<p> +Here they encountered people belonging to M'tela's tribes; but their +guides seemed to vouch for them, and they passed without trouble. Indeed +they were here enabled to get more food, and to waste no time hunting. At +noon of another day, surmounting a ridge, they looked down on a marching +safari. The two <i>shenzi</i> guides pointed and grinned, much pleased with +themselves. Their pleasure was short lived; for they were promptly seized, +disarmed, and tied together. The grieved astonishment of their expressions +almost immediately faded into fatalistic stolidity. So many things happen +in Africa! +</p> + +<p> +Mali-ya-bwana and one of the other men proceeded rapidly ahead on the +general line of march. The rest paralleled the safari below. After an hour +the scouts returned with news of a water-hole where, undoubtedly, the +strange safari would camp. All then hurried on. +</p> + +<p> +Concealed in a thicket Simba proceeded with great zest to make himself +over into a <i>shenzi</i>. In every savage is a good deal of the small boy; so +this disguising himself pleased him immensely. Taking the spear in one +hand and the "sacred bone" reverently in the other, he set out to +intercept the safari. +</p> + +<p> +It came within the hour. Simba almost unremarked regarded it curiously. +There were over a hundred men, all of tribes unknown to him with the +exception of a dozen who evidently performed the higher offices. The +common porters were indeed <i>shenzis</i>--wild men--picked up from jungle and +veldt as they were needed; and not at all of the professional porter class +to be had at Mombasa; Nairobi, Dar-es-salaam, or Zanzibar. Simba's eyes +passed over them contemptuously, but rested with more interest on the +smaller body of <i>askaris</i>, headmen, and gun bearers. These also were of +tribes strange to him; but of East African types with which he was +familiar. They were all dressed in a sort of uniform of khaki, wore caps +with a curtain hanging behind, and arm bands gayly emblazoned with +imperial eagles. All this was very impressive. Simba conceived a respect +for this white man's importance. Evidently he was a <i>bwana m'kubwa</i>. The +supposed savage experienced a growing excitement over the task he had +undertaken. All his training had taught him to respect the white man, as +such; and now he was called upon to abduct forcibly one of the sacred +breed--and such a specimen! Only Simba's undoubted force of character, and +the veneration his long association with Kingozi had inculcated, sustained +him. +</p> + +<p> +For Winkleman was a big man in every way: tall, broad, thick, with a +massive head, large features, and such a tremendous black beard! Well had +he deserved his native name of <i>Bwana</i> Nyele--the master with the mane. +</p> + +<p> +Simba awaited the moment of greatest confusion in the placing and pitching +of the camp, and then advanced timidly, holding out the bone Kingozi had +given him. His courage and faith were very low. They revived instantly as +he saw the immediate effect. It was just as Kingozi had told him it would +be; and as there was nothing on earth in a bit of dry bone that could +accomplish such an effect except magic, Simba thenceforward went on with +his adventure in completed confidence. +</p> + +<p> +For at sight of the bone <i>Bwana</i> Nyele's eyes lit up, he uttered an +astonishing bellow of delight, and sprang forward with such agility for so +large a man that he almost succeeded in snatching the talisman from +Simba's hands. Acting precisely on his instructions the latter backed +away, pointing over the hill. +</p> + +<p> +"Where did you get that?" Winkleman demanded. +</p> + +<p> +Simba continued to point. +</p> + +<p> +"Give it me." +</p> + +<p> +Simba started away, still pointing. Winkleman followed a few steps. +</p> + +<p> +"There is more?" he asked. "Do you speak Swahili?" +</p> + +<p> +"Many more, <i>bwana</i>," Simba replied in the atrocious Swahili Kingozi had +ordered. "Over there only a little distance." +</p> + +<p> +Everything turned out as Kingozi had promised. Bwana Nyele asked several +more questions, received no replies, finally bellowed: +</p> + +<p> +"But lead me there, <i>m'buzi!</i> I would see!" +</p> + +<p> +Simba guided him up the hill. At the appointed spot they fell upon him and +bore him to the earth in spite of his strength, and bound his hands behind +his back. Then Simba wrapped the magic bone reverently in its cloth. +Certainly it was wonderful magic. +</p> + +<p> +Winkleman put up a good fight, but once he felt himself definitely +overpowered he ceased his struggles. He was helped to his feet. A glance +at his captors taught him that these were safari men and not savages of +the country; and, with full knowledge of the general situation, he was not +long in guessing out his present plight. But now was not the time for +talk. +</p> + +<p> +A half-hour's walk took the party to a second water-hole, the indications +for which Simba had already noted on his little scouting tour. There they +proceeded to make camp. The six porters began with their swordlike +<i>pangas</i> to cut poles and wattles, to peel off long strips of inner bark +from the thorn trees which would serve as withes. Then they began the +construction of a <i>banda</i>, one of the quickly built little thatched sheds, +open at both ends. At sight of this Winkleman swore deeply. He was fairly +trapped, and knew it; but the <i>banda</i> indicated that he was to be held +prisoner in this one spot for at least some days. However, wise man in +native ways, he said nothing and made no objection. But his keen wide +eyes took in every detail. +</p> + +<p> +When the <i>banda</i> was finished and a big pile of the dried hay had been +spread as a couch Simba approached respectfully but firmly, took <i>Bwana</i> +Nyele's helmet from his head, his spine-pad from his back, and his shoes +from his feet. In this strategy Winkleman with reluctance admired the +white man's hands. Without head and spine covering of some sort he could +not travel a mile under the tropic sun; without foot covering or a light +he would be helpless at night. Of course these things could be improvised; +but not easily. He stretched himself on the hay and awaited events. +</p> + +<p> +The men built a fire and gathered around it. They were cooking, but at the +same time the two whom Winkleman recognized as leaders conferred earnestly +and at great length. Had he been at their elbows he would have heard the +following: +</p> + +<p> +"The magic of this bone is a very great magic," Simba was saying. "All +happened exactly as <i>Bwana</i> Kingozi told us. Now is the fifth day. There +remain now nine days to wait until we must bring this <i>m'zungu</i> to <i>Bwana</i> +Kingozi at the <i>manyatta</i> of M'tela." +</p> + +<p> +"It is indeed great magic," agreed Mali-ya-bwana. "How many days is the +<i>manyatta?</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know. These <i>shenzis</i> should know; but they talk only monkey +talk. Here, let us try." He drew one of the prisoners one side. "M'tela," +he enunciated slowly. +</p> + +<p> +The savage nodded, and pointed the direction with his protruded lower lip. +</p> + +<p> +Simba indicated the sun, and swept his hand across the arc of the heavens. +Then he looked inquiringly at the other and held up in rapid success first +one, then two, then three fingers. The savage was puzzled. Simba went +through the movements of a man walking, pronounced the name of M'tela, +pointed out the direction, and then repeated his previous pantomime. +A light broke on the <i>shenzi</i>. He held up four fingers. +</p> + +<p> +Simba next called to Mali-ya-bwana to interrogate the other prisoner +apart. As the latter also reported M'tela four days distant--when he +understood--this was accepted as the truth. +</p> + +<p> +"Then we remain in camp five days," they concluded, after working out the +subtraction. +</p> + +<p> +"But," intervened one of the porters, "we have no more <i>potio</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"I have the <i>bwana's</i> gun," Simba pointed out, "and also the gun of this +<i>m'zungu</i>. There is here plenty of game." +</p> + +<p> +"To eat meat always is not well," grumbled the porter. +</p> + +<p> +"To eat <i>kiboko</i> (whip) is always possible," replied Simba grimly. +</p> + +<p> +"Nevertheless," said Mali-ya-bwana, who as co-leader was privileged to +more open speech, "<i>potio</i> and meat are better than meat only." +</p> + +<p> +Simba looked at him inquiringly. +</p> + +<p> +"You have a thought?" +</p> + +<p> +Mali-ya-bwana leaned forward. +</p> + +<p> +"It is this: If the bone has such great magic that thus we can take +prisoner a mighty <i>bwana</i> like this, surely it is powerful enough to fight +also against safari men." +</p> + +<p> +Simba pondered this. +</p> + +<p> +"Every one knows that a white man is a great Lord," urged Mali-ya-bwana, +"and that it is useless for the black man to fight against him. This is +true always. Every man knows this." +</p> + +<p> +"Black men have killed white men," Simba objected. +</p> + +<p> +"Only when the numbers were many. Even then many more black men also have +died, so that the painting for mourning went through many tribes. Never +before have men like us taken a white man thus easily." +</p> + +<p> +"That is true." +</p> + +<p> +"Then since this magic bone can subdue for us a great lord of a <i>m'zungu</i>, +surely it will also subdue for us a safari of black men like ourselves, a +safari that the <i>m'zungu</i> has held in his hand." +</p> + +<p> +"That is true." +</p> + +<p> +"And that safari must have much <i>potio</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"That also is true." +</p> + +<p> +"Let you--or me, it does not matter--take the magic bone, and with it take +also this safari and its <i>potio</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"I will do it," assented Simba after a moment. "You will stay here to +carry out the <i>bwana's</i> orders." +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xxviii">CHAPTER XXVIII</a></h2> + +<h3>SIMBA'S ADVENTURE</h3> + +<p> +In the course of the evening Winkleman, conceiving that the right moment +had come, set himself seriously to establishing a dominance over these +members of an inferior race. He was a skilled man at this, none more so; +nevertheless he failed. For in the persons of Simba and Mali-ya-bwana he +was dealing not with natives, but with another white man as shrewd and +experienced as himself. Kingozi had from the abundance of his knowledge +foreseen exactly what methods and arguments the Bavarian would use, and in +his final instructions he had dramatized almost exactly the scene that was +now taking place. Simba had his replies ready made for him. When an +unexpected argument caught him unaware, he merely fingered surreptitiously +his magic bone, and remained serenely silent. Winkleman might as well have +talked at a stone wall. He soon recognized this, as also that the man had +been coached minutely. +</p> + +<p> +"Who is your <i>bwana?</i>" he asked at length. +</p> + +<p> +"He is a very great <i>bwana</i>," Simba replied. +</p> + +<p> +"His name?" +</p> + +<p> +"He has many names among many people." +</p> + +<p> +"What name do you call him?" +</p> + +<p> +"I call him <i>bwana m'kubwa</i> (great master)," replied Simba blandly. +</p> + +<p> +Winkleman gave up this tack and tried another. +</p> + +<p> +"What is his business? What does he do here?" +</p> + +<p> +"His business is to fight." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" ejaculated Winkleman. "To fight!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. His business is to fight the elephant." +</p> + +<p> +Winkleman swore. He could get at nothing this way. He must give his mind +to escape. +</p> + +<p> +Early the next morning Simba started. He took with him, of course, his +magic bone; but, like a canny general, he carried also the rifle. Mali-ya-bwana was left sufficiently armed by Winkleman's weapon and the sixteen +cartridges captured on his person. +</p> + +<p> +By the water-hole Simba found the safari encamped. At sight of his khaki-clad figure several men ran to meet him. Their countenances were of a cast +unfamiliar to Simba. He looked at them calmly. +</p> + +<p> +"Does some one speak Swahili?" he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>N'dio!</i>" they assented in chorus. +</p> + +<p> +Simba looked about him. This was indeed a great safari, and a rich +<i>bwana</i>. The tent, of green canvas, was what is known as a "four-man +tent"; that is, it took four men to carry it. The pile of loads in the +centre of the cleared space was high. There were three tin boxes and many +chop boxes among them. +</p> + +<p> +The group moved slowly across the open space, stared at by curious eyes, +and came to a halt before a drill tent slightly larger than the little +kennels assigned to the ordinary porters. Here over a fire bubbled a +<i>sufuria</i>, the African cooking pot, tended by a naked small boy. A clean +mat woven in bright colours carpeted the ground; on this all seated +themselves. +</p> + +<p> +It would be tedious to relate each step of the ensuing negotiations. These +simple Africans would have needed no instruction from civilization to +carry on the most long-winded submarine controversy in the most approved +and circuitous manner. At the end of one solid hour of grave and polite +exchange it developed that the white man was not at present in camp. +Somewhat later Simba permitted it to be understood that his own white man +was not in the immediate neighbourhood. These gems of knowledge were +separated by much leisurely chatter, and occasional and liberal dippings +into the <i>sufuria</i>. And thus was the beginning and the end of the first +day. +</p> + +<p> +At noon of the second day, after a refreshing night's sleep, Simba moved +up his forces. +</p> + +<p> +"Your white man is known to me," said he. +</p> + +<p> +Some one remarked appropriately. +</p> + +<p> +"He is a prisoner in my camp." +</p> + +<p> +"In the camp of your white man." +</p> + +<p> +"In my camp. I myself have taken him prisoner," insisted Simba. +</p> + +<p> +"You are telling lies," said the headman of the safari. +</p> + +<p> +Simba took this calmly. In Africa to call a man a liar is no insult. +</p> + +<p> +"It is the truth," said he. "With my own hands I took him; and he lies +bound in my camp." +</p> + +<p> +"These are lies," persisted the headman. "How can such things be? That you +took a white man, a great <i>bwana?</i> That is foolishness. That has never +been and could never be. How could you accomplish such a feat?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have a magic." +</p> + +<p> +"Ho!" cried the headman derisively. "Everybody knows that a magic is not +good against the white man. That has been tried many times!" +</p> + +<p> +"This is a white man's magic." +</p> + +<p> +The statement made a visible impression. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us see it," they demanded. +</p> + +<p> +But Simba refused. He was entirely at ease. In his ordinary habit he would +have become excited over being doubted, he would have wrangled, have +shouted--in short, would have been but one unit among many equals. But the +possession of the magic bone gave him a confidence from outside himself. +For the time being he slipped genuinely into the attitude of the white +man; became a super-Simba, as it were. This dignity and sureness commenced +to have its effect. Almost they began to believe that Simba's words might +be true! +</p> + +<p> +At three o'clock the battle closed in. +</p> + +<p> +"My men need <i>potio</i>" said Simba. "Let ten loads be put aside, and let ten +of these <i>shenzis</i> be told to carry them where I shall say." +</p> + +<p> +But the headman leaped to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +"Who are you to give orders?" he cried. "These things belong to my white +man." +</p> + +<p> +"Your white man is my property," replied Simba superbly; and with no +further parley he shot the headman dead. +</p> + +<p> +Here indeed showed the super-Simba. The dispute might in the ordinary +course of events have come to shooting; but only after hours of excited +wrangling, and as a climax worked up to in a crescendo of emotion. This +expeditious nipping in the bud was a thoroughly white-manly proceeding. +</p> + +<p> +The headman whirled about under the impact of the high-power bullet at so +close a range, and collapsed face down. Simba sat calmly in his place. He +did not even trouble to place himself in a better defensive attitude +against possible attack. His confidence in his magic bone was growing to +sublimity as he noted how efficiently it carried him through every crisis. +All over the camp the porters, startled, leaped to their feet. But at the +headmen's fire no one moved. They would ordinarily have been afraid +neither of Simba nor Simba's weapons. Firearms were familiar to them. The +usual sequence to Simba's deed would have been an immediately defunct +Simba. But his serene confidence in his magic caught their credulity. +</p> + +<p> +The white man's <i>prestige</i> and privileges were invested in him. +</p> + +<p> +"Yours is undoubtedly a great magic," said Winkleman's gun bearer +politely. "Let us talk." +</p> + +<p> +They talked at great length, without bothering to remove the dead headman. +The result was finally a continued respect for Simba, his magic bone, and +his ready rifle; but a lingering though polite incredulity as to the +matter of Winkleman--<i>Bwana</i> Nyele. It was possible that Simba had killed +the latter, of course. But to have taken him alive--and to be holding him +prisoner---- +</p> + +<p> +It was suggested that the various upper men of this safari accompany Simba +to the place of incarceration. Declined for obvious reasons. Proposition +modified to exclude all visitors but one. Still declined. +</p> + +<p> +The debate summarized in the above short paragraph consumed six hours. +What is time in the face of an African eternity? And in Africa, as every +one knows, the feeling of eternity is an accompaniment of every-day life. +</p> + +<p> +After some refreshments the sitting rose. Simba did not spend the night in +camp. That did not seem to him wise. Instead he withdrew to a place he had +already marked, deftly built himself a withe platform in the spread of an +acacia, and slept soundly above the danger line. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning the discussion was resumed. It was all on an amicable basis. +A bystander would have seen merely a group of lazy native servants +gossiping idly. And, indeed, for one word of relevance were a dozen of +sheer chatter. That is the African way. +</p> + +<p> +Since it was impossible to visit <i>Bwana</i> Nyele, why could not <i>Bwana</i> +Nyele be brought to within sight? Simba considered this; but finally +rejected it. The risk was too great, magic bone or no magic bone. +</p> + +<p> +"It is probable you speak lies," said the gun bearer at last. "You say you +want <i>potio</i> and that you hold <i>Bwana</i> Nyele prisoner. But you do not +bring us orders from <i>Bwana</i> Nyele for <i>potio</i>. Nor do you give us proof. +We must have proof before we believe or before we obey." +</p> + +<p> +"I will bring you <i>Bwana</i> Nyele's gun; or his coat; or anything that is +his that you may see that I hold him prisoner." +</p> + +<p> +"Those things prove nothing," the gun bearer pointed out. "They might have +been taken from a dead man." +</p> + +<p> +They negotiated further. One gifted with the power of seeing only +essential things would have found here a strange parallel. For these two +men, talking cautiously, clinging with tenacity to single points, yielding +grudgingly, would have been the same to him as two shrewd business men +coming together on the phrases of a contract, or two diplomats framing the +terms of a treaty. +</p> + +<p> +Thus well into the third day. By that time an agreement had been reached. +It was very simple and direct and practical, when one thinks of it; +covered the situation fully; involved few compromises; and gained each man +his point. +</p> + +<p> +Simba demanded <i>potio</i> and obedience because he held the mighty <i>m'zungu</i> +prisoner. The gun bearer wanted indubitable proof not only that Simba held +the white man, but that he held him alive. +</p> + +<p> +It was agreed that Simba was to return to his own camp, was to procure the +proof agreed upon, and was promptly to return. The said proof was to be +one of <i>Bwana</i> Nyele's fingers, which all agreed would be easily +recognizable both as to identity and freshness! +</p> + +<p> +The divulgence of this simple little plan by a Simba quite in earnest +dissipated Winkleman's last hope of doing anything by means of persuasion. +He knew his African well enough to realize that this fantastic method of +identification seemed quite a matter of course. In fact, Simba was at the +moment sharpening his hunting knife in preparation. Winkleman swore +heartily and fluently, then grinned. He was at heart a good soul, +Winkleman, with a sense of amusement if not of humour, and a philosophy of +life denied most of his inexperienced and theoretical countrymen. And also +he realized that he had his work cut out to prevent the program being +carried through. The African is slow to come to a definite conclusion, but +once it is arrived at it is apt to look to him like a permanent structure. +It was a wonderful tribute to Winkleman that it took him only four hours +to persuade Simba that there might be another way; and two hours more to +convince him that there might even be a better way. When Simba reluctantly +and a little doubtfully sheathed his knife, the big Bavarian wiped his +brow with genuine thankfulness. +</p> + +<p> +The reader need not be wearied by a detailed report of the interminable +conferences that led up to the substitute plan. It would be a picture of a +big bearded man smoking slowly--for until affairs were decided he could +get no more of his own tobacco--leaning on his elbow beneath the roof of +the <i>banda</i>. Before him squatted on their heels in the posture white men +find so trying Mali-ya-bwana and Simba, entirely respectful, their shining +black eyes fixed on the white man. The open ends of the <i>banda</i> gave out +on a dry boulder-strewn wash and the parched side of a hill. All else was +sky. Morning coolness was succeeded by the blaze of midday, when the very +surface of the ground danced in the shimmer; then slowly the shadows crept +out, the veils of mirage sank to earth, a coolness wandered in from some +blessed region; darkness came suddenly; over the parched hill--now looming +mysterious in black garments--the tropic stars blazed out. Then outside +some one lighted a fire. The flames cast lights and shadows within the +<i>banda</i> where still the white man leaned on his elbow, the black men +squatted on their heels, and the murmur of talk went on and on. +</p> + +<p> +But Winkleman got his way. At an appointed hour and at an appointed place +Winkleman, Mali-ya-bwana, and two of the carriers met Simba conducting the +gun bearer from the other camp. The interview was very short. Indeed it +had all been carefully rehearsed. Winkleman said only what he had agreed +to say; and thereby earned his finger. +</p> + +<p> +"This man holds me prisoner," he told the gun bearer. "What he says is +true. Do what he asks you to do. It is my command." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>bwana</i>," agreed the gun bearer. +</p> + +<p> +Then they parted. The immediate result was five loads of <i>potio</i> brought +by safari men to "somewhere in Africa," and thence transported by Simba's +men to Simba's camp. As game was thereabout abundant and undisturbed +everybody was happy. +</p> + +<p> +Thus passed a week, which brought time forward to the moment when Simba, +following his instructions, was to report to Kingozi at the village of +M'tela. Therefore Simba set forth, taking with him, according to African +custom, one of the porters as companion. He carried Kingozi's rifle, but +left that belonging to Winkleman with Mali-ya-bwana. +</p> + +<p> +Winkleman watched Simba go with considerable satisfaction. Mali-ya-bwana +was a man much above average African intelligence, but he had not the +experience, the initiative, the <i>flaire</i> of Simba. Nor had he Simba's +magic bone. Simba took that with him. Winkleman knew nothing of the +supposed virtues of that property; and in consequence entertained a +respect for qualities of Simba that were not entirely inherent in that +individual. He began to flatter Mali-ya-bwana; to fraternize just enough; +to assume complete resignation to his plight--in short, to use just those +tactics a clever man would use to lull the alertness of any bright child. +Naturally he succeeded. At sundown of the second day he began to complain +of the irksomeness of his bonds. +</p> + +<p> +"This is foolishness, so to treat a <i>m'zungu</i>," said he. "Nothing is +gained. I cannot sleep; and the skin of my wrists is sore. He who watches +has only to keep the fire bright. I cannot go like smoke." +</p> + +<p> +To Mali-ya-bwana, in his flattered and unsuspicious mood, this seemed +reasonable. He was no such fool as to turn Winkleman loose to his own +devices; but he compromised by untying the Bavarian's wrists, and doubling +the thongs by which the latter's ankles were hitched to the larger timbers +of the <i>banda</i>. Also he instructed the sentinel to keep the fire bright, +to watch <i>Bwana</i> Nyele, and to stop instantly any and all movements of the +hands toward the feet. +</p> + +<p> +The early watches passed quietly. A second sentinel replaced the first. Up +to this time Winkleman had slept quietly. Now he began to shift position +often, to twist and turn, finally to groan softly. The sentinel came to +the end of the <i>banda</i> and looked in. To him <i>Bwana</i> Nyele raised a face +so ghastly that even the half-savage porter was startled. The man's eyes +seemed to have sunk into his head, deep seams to have creased his brow and +jaws. Apparently Winkleman was on the point of dissolution. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Magi! nataka magi!</i>"[<a href="#16">16</a>] he gasped. +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="16">16</a>: Water! I want water!] +</p> + +<p> +The sentinel took the canteen from the peg where it hung and bent over the +dying man. Instantly his throat was clasped by a pair of heavy and +powerful hands. +</p> + +<p> +Two minutes later Winkleman rose to his feet free. The porter's knife in +his hand, he looked down on that unfortunate securely bound and gagged. +Treading softly Winkleman stepped through the sleeping camp into the +clear. He drew a deep breath. Then unconsciously wiping from his face the +mixture of grease and ashes that had constituted his "make-up," he strode +grimly away toward his own safari. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xxix">CHAPTER XXIX</a></h2> + +<h3>WINKLEMAN'S SAFARI ARRIVES</h3> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman watched the safari file down the distant hill and lose +itself beneath the green plumes of the papyrus swamp. By all right she +should have rejoiced. Against every probability she had succeeded. The +stars had worked for her. Though the prearranged plan had not carried in +any of its details, nevertheless the sought-for result had been gained. +She had herself done little to detain Kingozi; yet he had been detained; +and here was Winkleman, belated but in time, to carry out triumphantly the +wishes of the Imperial Government. But her heart was like lead. +</p> + +<p> +After the first droop Kingozi had straightened beneath the blow, and now +sat bolt upright, staring straight before him, as a king might have sat +alone on his throne. Whatever was coming, he would front it serenely. +</p> + +<p> +The head of the safari appeared at the foot of the slope. It seemed a +trifle uncertain as to where to go next, but catching sight of Kingozi's +tents, it turned up the hill. Cazi Moto's keen eyes were searching out +every detail; those of the Leopard Woman had suddenly become suffused with +tears. +</p> + +<p> +"It is a rich safari, <i>bwana</i>," Cazi Moto reported; "many loads." His +voice sharpened with surprise, but he did not raise his tones. "Simba is +there," said he. +</p> + +<p> +"Simba! So they caught him," muttered Kingozi. "Well, that play failed. Do +you see the white man?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"No, <i>bwana</i>. The white man has not yet come. But Simba now sees us, and +is coming." +</p> + +<p> +"He is guarded?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, <i>bwana</i>; he is alone." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Jambo, bwana</i>," said Simba's voice a moment later. +</p> + +<p> +Something in his tone caught Kingozi's ear. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Simba?" was all he replied. +</p> + +<p> +"All has been done as you ordered, <i>bwana</i>. This is the fourteenth day, +and I am here to tell you." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi caught his breath sharply. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bwana</i> Nyele was captured?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mali-ya-bwana holds him prisoner at a certain water." +</p> + +<p> +"There was no trouble?" +</p> + +<p> +"None, <i>bwana</i>. All happened as you told. This magic is a very great +magic," said Simba piously. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi paused. +</p> + +<p> +"The safari," he suggested at last. "I am told of a safari; indeed, I can +hear it. What of that? No orders were given as to a safari." +</p> + +<p> +"That is true, <i>bwana</i>," explained Simba earnestly, "but this is a very +great safari. It has tents and <i>potio</i>, and <i>chakula</i>[<a href="#17">17</a>], and blankets +and beads and wire and many other things to a quantity impossible to say. +And it came to my mind that <i>shenzis</i> like these things, as do all men, +and that in this <i>shenzi</i> country my <i>bwana</i> might make use of them; so I +brought them with me for your use, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="17">17</a>: <i>Chakula</i>--white man's food.] +</p> + +<p> +"You had no trouble bringing this great safari?" asked Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +"I used again the magic bone," replied Simba. +</p> + +<p> +"Simba, you jewel!" cried Kingozi in English, "you've saved the day! I +should think <i>shenzis</i> did like these things! And oh, haven't I needed +them! You old tar-baby, you!" +</p> + +<p> +And Simba replied as usual to this incomprehensible gibberish with his own +full stock of English: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, suh!" +</p> + +<p> +"You have done well, very well," Kingozi shifted to Swahili. "I am pleased +with you. For this work you shall have much <i>backsheeshi</i>--a month's wages +extra, and twenty goats for your farm, and any other thing that you want +most. What is it?" +</p> + +<p> +Simba appeared to hesitate and boggle. +</p> + +<p> +"Speak up! I am Very pleased." +</p> + +<p> +"This is a very great thing I would ask," said Simba in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +"It is a great thing you have done." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bwana</i>," cried Simba earnestly. "It is this: I would have the magic bone +for my own. For it is a very great magic," he added wistfully. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi choked back an impulse to shout aloud. +</p> + +<p> +"It is yours," he said gravely. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, <i>bwana! bwana!</i>" choked Simba. "<i>Assanti! assanti sana!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +His sob was echoed at Kingozi's elbow. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh," cried the Leopard Woman, "I know I should be sorry that this has +come this way! But I'm not; I am glad!" +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xxx">CHAPTER XXX</a></h2> + +<h3>WINKLEMAN APPEARS</h3> + +<p> +With the riches thus unexpectedly placed at his disposal, and legitimately +his by the fortunes of war, Kingozi was enabled to proceed to the final +grand exchange of gifts that assured his friendship with M'tela and sealed +the alliance. He was spurred to his best efforts in this by the news, +brought in by an alarmed Mali-ya-bwana, that Winkleman had escaped. +However, by dint of rich presents, supplementing the careful diplomatic +negotiations that had gone before, he arrived at an understanding. +</p> + +<p> +"And now, oh, King, I must tell you this," he said boldly. "Of white men +there is not merely one but many kinds, just as among the African peoples. +There are strong men and weak men, good men and bad men, and men of +different tribes. Of the tribes are the <i>Inglishee</i> to which I belong, +which is the most powerful of all--like your own people of the Kabilagani +in this land--and also another tribe called the <i>Duyche</i>, only a little +less powerful. These two tribes are now at war." +</p> + +<p> +"A-a-a-a," observed M'tela interestedly. +</p> + +<p> +"One of the <i>Duyche</i> is in your country, oh, King. I have met him and +defeated him by my magic. Some of these people you see here were his +people; and of his goods I have everything." +</p> + +<p> +"But it may be," suggested M'tela with a slight cooling of cordiality, +"that many more <i>Duyche</i> will follow this one." +</p> + +<p> +"They cannot prevail against my magic. Talk with Simba, with my men, and +know what virtue is in my magic. But beyond that, oh, King, have you not +heard of the wars of the Wakamba? of Lobengula? of the Matabele and the +Basuto? has not news come to you from the north of the battles of the +Sudan? Have you not heard of Lenani, the king of all Masai, and of his +advice to his people? All these wars were won by <i>Inglishee</i>; Lenani's +words of wisdom spoke of <i>Inglishee</i>. Have you ever heard of the victories +of the <i>Duyche?</i> No. There were no such victories!"[<a href="#18">18</a>] +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="18">18</a>: Kingozi here took shrewd advantage of the fact that German +East Africa was peacefully occupied without necessity of the spectacular +tribal wars of Matabeland, Zululand, Basutoland, and the Wakamba district +of British East Africa. Lenani's advice to his people was given at the +close of the Wakamba war. Said he: "There is no doubt that the Masai are a +greater people than the Wakamba, and in case of war we could fight the +white man harder than the Wakamba fought him. Undoubtedly, too, my people +could kill a great many of the English. But this I have noticed: that when +a Wakamba is dead, he remains dead; but when a white man is dead ten more +come to take his place." In consequence of this advice the Masai--one of +the most warlike of all the tribes--negotiated with the English, and today +remain both at peace and unconquered.] +</p> + +<p> +After an hour's elaboration of this theme Kingozi judged the moment +propitious to return to the original subject. M'tela offered the +opportunity. +</p> + +<p> +"This <i>Duyche</i> whom you have conquered--you killed him?" +</p> + +<p> +"He escaped." +</p> + +<p> +"A-a-a-a." +</p> + +<p> +"He is still alive and in your land. Let order be given to search him +out." +</p> + +<p> +"That shall be done," said M'tela after a moment's thought. +</p> + +<p> +Mali-ya-bwana and Simba set out with a posse of M'tela's men. They had no +great difficulty in getting track of the missing Bavarian. Winkleman had +arrived to find the camping site deserted. He had, indomitably, set out on +the track of his safari. To eat he was forced at last to beg of the wild +herdsmen. M'tela's dread name elicited from these last definite +information. The search party found Winkleman, very dirty, quite hungry, +profoundly chagrined, but still good humoured, seated in a smoky hut +eating soured smoky milk. He wore sandals improvised from goatskin, a hat +and spine-pad made from banana leaves ingeniously woven. +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a name="illusp282.jpg"></a> +<a href="images/illusp282.jpg"><img src="images/illusp282_th.jpg" alt="The search party found Winkleman, very dirty, quite hungry, profoundly chagrined"></a>] +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Ach!</i>" he cried, recognizing Kingozi's two men. "So it is you! What have +you done with my safari?" +</p> + +<p> +"I led it to my <i>bwana</i>," replied Simba. +</p> + +<p> +"Where you may now lead me," said Winkleman resignedly. "By what means +have you thought of these things, N'ympara?" "By the magic of this," +replied Simba with becoming modesty, producing the precious bone. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Ach</i> the <i>saurian!</i>" cried Winkleman. "I remember. It had gone from my +mind. It is a curious type; I do not quite recognize. Let me see it." +</p> + +<p> +But Simba was replacing carefully the talisman in its wrappings. He had no +mind to deliver the magic into other hands--perhaps to be used against +himself! +</p> + +<p> +They led Winkleman directly to Kingozi's camp. Winkleman followed, looking +always curiously about him. His was the true scientific mind. He was quite +capable of forgetting his plight--and did so--in the interest of new fauna +and flora, or of ethnological eccentricities. Once or twice he insisted on +a halt for examination of something that caught his notice, and insisted +so peremptorily when the savages would have forced him on, that they +yielded to his wish. +</p> + +<p> +It was early in the morning. Kingozi, as ever, sat in his canvas chair +atop the hill. He was alone, for the Leopard Woman, always on the alert +and always staring through her glasses, had caught sight of the little +group before it plunged into the papyrus; and had retired to her tent. +Winkleman plowed up the hill blowing out his cheeks in a full-blooded +hearty fashion. +</p> + +<p> +"Oho!" he cried in his great voice when he had drawn near. "This is not so +bad! It is Culbertson!" +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry about this," said Kingozi briefly--"a man of your eminence--very disagreeable." +</p> + +<p> +Winkleman dropped heavily to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +"That is nothing," he waved aside the half-apology, "though it would not +be bad to have the bath and change these clothes. But fortunes of war--it +is but the fortunes of war--I would have done worse to you. How long is it +that you have arrived?" +</p> + +<p> +"Long enough," replied Kingozi briefly. "Oh, Cazi Moto, bring tea! I have +had your tent pitched, Doctor Winkleman; and you must bathe and change and +rest. But before you go we must understand each other. This is war time, +and you are my prisoner. You must give me your parole neither to try to +escape nor to tamper with my men, with M'tela, or any of his people. If +you feel you cannot do this I shall be compelled to hold you closely +guarded." +</p> + +<p> +Winkleman laughed one of his great gusty laughs. +</p> + +<p> +"I give it willingly. What foolishness otherwise. What foolishness anyway, +all this. War is nonsense. It destroys. It interferes. Consider, my dear +Culbertson, here was I safely in the Congo forests, and for two, three +months I have lived there, like a native quietly; and of all the world +there is to amuse me only the fauna and the flora--which I know like my +hand. But I discover a new species--a <i>papilio</i>. But all the time I live +quiet, and I wait. And at last the people, the little forest people, +little by little they get confidence; they come to the edge of the forest, +they venture to camp, slow. Suppose I wave my hand like that--pouf! They +have run away. But I wait; and they come forth. So I camp by myself in the +forest--for I leave my safari away that it may not frighten this people. +And by and by we talk. I am beginning to learn their language. Culbertson, +I find these people speak the true click language, but also I find it true +sex-denoting language most resembling in that respect the ancient Fula!" +</p> + +<p> +"Where was this? Impossible!" cried Kingozi, interested and excited. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" roared Winkleman with satisfaction. "I thought I would your interest +catch! But it is true; and in the central Congo." +</p> + +<p> +"But that would throw the prehistoric Libyan and Hamitic migrations +farther to the west than----" +</p> + +<p> +"Pre-cisely!" interrupted Winkleman. +</p> + +<p> +"What sort of people were they? Did they show Hamitic characteristics +particularly? or did they incline to the typical prognathous, short-legged, stealopygous type of the Bushmen?" +</p> + +<p> +But Winkleman reverted abruptly to his narrative. +</p> + +<p> +"That is a long discussion to make. It will wait. But just as I get these +people where I can put them beneath my observation, so, there comes an +ober-lieutenant with foolishness in the way of guns and uniform and +<i>askaris</i> and that nonsense; and my little people run into the forest and +are no more to be seen." +</p> + +<p> +"Hard luck!" commented Kingozi feelingly. +</p> + +<p> +"Is it not so? This ober-lieutenant is a fool. He knows nothing. +<i>Dumkopf!</i> All he knows is to give me a letter from the <i>Kaiserliche +dumkopf</i> at Dar-es-salaam. I read it. It tells me I must come here, to +this place, with speed, and get the military aid of this M'tela and so +forth with many details. It was another foolishness. I know this type of +people well. There is nothing new to be learned. They are of the usual +types. It is foolishness to come here. But it is an order, so I come, and +I do my best. But now I am a prisoner, while I might be with the little +people in the Congo. I talk much." +</p> + +<p> +"I fancy we are going to have a good deal to talk about," interjected +Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Ach!</i> that is true! That is what I said--that I am glad this is +Culbertson who catches me. Yes! We must talk!" +</p> + +<p> +Cazi Moto glided to them. +</p> + +<p> +"Bath is ready, <i>bwana</i>," said he. +</p> + +<p> +Winkleman puffed out his chest and protruded his great beard. +</p> + +<p> +"This war--foolishness!" he mumbled. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, we have much to talk about. Nevertheless," said Kingozi with slight +embarrassment, "it is necessary that I do my duty according to my orders. +And my orders were much like yours--to get the alliance of this M'tela. +But I have told him that you are my enemy; and he sent his men with mine +to find you; and now, as you can well comprehend, I must----" +</p> + +<p> +But Winkleman's quick comprehension leaped ahead of Kingozi's speech. +</p> + +<p> +"I must play the prisoner, is it not?" he cried with one of his big +laughs. "But so! Of course! That is comprehend. How could it be otherwise? +I know my native! I know what he expects. I shall be humble, the slave, +your foot upon my neck. Of course! Do you suppose I do not know?" +</p> + +<p> +"That is well," said Kingozi, much relieved, "I shall tell him that you +are a man of much wisdom and great magic; and that I have saved your life +to serve me." +</p> + +<p> +"So!" cried Winkleman delightedly; and departed to his tent and the +waiting bath. A few moments later he could be heard robustly splashing in +the tent. A roar summoned Cazi Moto. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell your <i>bwana</i> I want <i>n'dowa</i>--medicine--understand? Need some boric +acid," he yelled at Kingozi. "Eyes in bad shape." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi ordered Cazi Moto to take over the entire medicine chest; then +sent a messenger for M'tela, who shortly appeared. +</p> + +<p> +"This enemy of mine is taken, thanks to your men, oh, King. I have him +here in the tent, well guarded." +</p> + +<p> +"How shall we kill him, papa?" inquired M'tela. +</p> + +<p> +"That has not yet been decided," replied Kingozi carelessly. "He must, of +course, be taken to the great King of all <i>Inglishee</i>." +</p> + +<p> +M'tela looked disappointed. +</p> + +<p> +"In the meantime," pursued Kingozi, "as he has much knowledge, and great +magic, I shall talk much with him, and get that magic for the benefit of +us both, oh, King. He cannot escape, for my magic is greater than his." +</p> + +<p> +This M'tela well believed, for the reports industriously circulated by +Simba anent his magic bone had reached the King, and had not lost in +transit. +</p> + +<p> +So when Winkleman came swashbuckling up the hill M'tela was prepared. The +blue-black beard and hearty, deep-chested carriage of the Bavarian +impressed him greatly. +</p> + +<p> +"But this is a great <i>bwana</i>, papa," he said to Kingozi. "Like you and +me." +</p> + +<p> +"This is the prisoner of which I spoke to you," said Kingozi in a loud +voice. +</p> + +<p> +Winkleman, a twinkle in his wide eyes, but with his countenance composed +to gravity, stepped forward, salaamed, and placed his forehead beneath +Kingozi's hand in token of submission. Thus proper relations were +established. Winkleman seated himself humbly on the sod, and kept silence, +while high converse went forward. At length M'tela departed. Winkleman +immediately plunged into the conversational gap around which, mentally, he +had been, impatiently hovering for an hour. +</p> + +<p> +"But this articulation of the <i>saurus</i>" he broke out. "What of it?" +</p> + +<p> +"The magic bone," chuckled Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +"Pouf! Pouf! It resembled much the <i>cinoliosaurus</i>, but that could not +be." +</p> + +<p> +"Why not?" demanded Kingozi quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"It has been found only in the lias formations of the Jurassic," stated +Winkleman dogmatically, "and that type of Jurassic is not here. It is of +England, yes; of Germany, yes; of the Americas, yes. Of central Africa, +no!" +</p> + +<p> +"Nevertheless----" interposed Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +"But the <i>cryptoclidus</i>--that greatly resembles the <i>cinoliosaurus</i>--perhaps. Or even a subspecies of the <i>plesiosaurus</i>----" +</p> + +<p> +"Simba," called Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +"Suh!" +</p> + +<p> +"Bring here the magic bone. The <i>bwana</i> wishes to look at it. No; it is +all right. I myself tell you; no harm can come." +</p> + +<p> +Reluctantly Simba produced the bone, now fittingly wrapped in clean +<i>mericani</i> cloth, and still more reluctantly undid it and handed it to +Winkleman. The latter seized it and began minutely to examine it, +muttering short, disconnected sentences to himself in German. +</p> + +<p> +"Now here is what I have said," he spoke aloud. "See. By this curve----" +</p> + +<p> +He broke off, staring curiously into Kingozi's face. The latter sat +apparently looking out across the hills, paying no attention to the fact +that Winkleman had thrust the bone fairly under his nose. The pause that +ensued became noticeable. Kingozi stirred uneasily, turning his eyes in +the direction of the scientist. +</p> + +<p> +"Glaucoma!" ejaculated Winkleman. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi smiled wearily. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. I wondered when you would find it out." +</p> + +<p> +"You are all blind?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can distinguish light." Kingozi straightened his back, and his voice +became incisive. "But I can still see through eyes that are faithful to +me! Make no mistakes there." +</p> + +<p> +"My dear friend; have I not given my parole?" gently asked the Bavarian. +</p> + +<p> +"Beg your pardon. Of course." +</p> + +<p> +"It is serious. You should have a surgeon. But why have you not used the +temporary remedy? Of course you know the effect of drugs?" +</p> + +<p> +"I know that atropin is ruin, right enough," said Kingozi grimly. +</p> + +<p> +"But the pilocarpin----" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course. I only wish I had some." +</p> + +<p> +"But you have!" came Winkleman's astonished voice. "There is of it a large +vial!" +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi gripped the arm of his chair for a full minute. Then he spoke to +Cazi Moto in a vibrating voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Bring me the chest of medicines. Now," he went on to Winkleman, when this +command had been executed, "kindly read to me the labels on all these +bottles; begin at the left. All, please." +</p> + +<p> +He listened attentively while Winkleman obeyed. The pilocarpin was +present; the atropin was gone. +</p> + +<p> +"You have not deceived me?" he cried sharply. "No--why should +you--wait----" +</p> + +<p> +He thought for some moments. When he raised his face it was gray. +</p> + +<p> +"One of the bottles was broken. I had reason to believe it the +pilocarpin," he said quietly. "Can I trespass on your good nature to make +the proper solution for my eyes?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is but a temporary expedient," warned Winkleman. "It is surgery here +demanded. I know the operation, but I cannot perform. One makes a +transverse incision above the cornea----" +</p> + +<p> +"I know, I know," interrupted Kingozi. "But the pilocarpin will give me my +sight. Let us get at it." +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xxxi">CHAPTER XXXI</a></h2> + +<h3>LIGHT AGAIN</h3> + +<p> +Three hours later Kingozi stepped into the open, his vision cleared. Such +is often the marvellous--though temporary--effect of the proper remedies +in this disease. He looked about him with a thankfulness not to be +understood save by one whose sight has been thus unexpectedly restored. +Winkleman followed him full of deep sympathy. +</p> + +<p> +"But I understand," he repeated over and over, "but it is like water on a +weary march, <i>nicht wahr</i>. But this is bad, very bad! You say it has been +going on for a month? And a month back! Too late. <i>Ach, schrecklich!</i> It +is so much a pity! You have, the youth, the strength, the knowledge! You +could so far go! But you must learn the dictation; the great book, the +<i>magnum opus</i>, it is there. Cheer up, my boy! Work, much work! That is +what will cure your sick courage even if it cannot cure your sick eyes. +Now, while we have the sight--see--the bone--this curve clearly indicates +to me----" +</p> + +<p> +Winkleman produced the saurian bone. And for the first time Kingozi +noticed Simba hovering anxiously near. Request and blandishments had +proved of no avail in getting the magic bone from <i>Bwana</i> Nyele. +</p> + +<p> +"It is all right," Kingozi reassured him. "We but use the magic for a +little while. See; it has given me back my eyes." +</p> + +<p> +"A-a-a-a!" ejaculated Simba, deeply astonished. +</p> + +<p> +"We will use it but a little while longer," Kingozi concluded. "Then you +shall have it again." +</p> + +<p> +"But to give this specimen to a gun bearer!" cried Winkleman in English. +"That is craziness! It is a museum piece." +</p> + +<p> +"It belongs to him; and I have promised," said Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +Winkleman subsided with deep rumblings. After a moment he renewed his +discussion. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi only half heard him. His mind was occupied by another, more human +problem. The discovery that the atropin and not the pilocarpin had been +destroyed agitated him profoundly; not, as might be believed, because it +enabled him at a critical time to regain the use of his sight, but because +it threw before him an insistent question. Did, or did not, Bibi-ya-chui +know? He recalled the incident in all its little details--himself in his +chair and Cazi Moto squatting before the three bottles set up before them, +carefully tracing in the sand with a stick the characters on the labels; +the Leopard Woman's sudden dash forward; the tinkle of smashed glass, and +her voice panting with excitement: "I will read your labels for you now--the bottle you hold in your hand! It is atropin, atropin"--and her wild +laugh. +</p> + +<p> +Did she know, or was she guessing or bluffing? +</p> + +<p> +It hurt him, hurt him inconceivably to think that she might have deceived +him thus; might have broken the wrong bottle, and then deliberately have +kept him in darkness with the very remedy at hand. That would seem the +refinement of cruelty. +</p> + +<p> +But he must be fair. She was then fighting, fighting with all her power +against odds, for her sworn duty. Deceit was her natural weapon. And at +that time such deceit seemed very likely to win for her her point. No, he +could not blame her there; he could not consistently even feel hurt. The +few moments' reasoning brought him to the point where he did not feel +hurt. After a little he even admired the quickness of wit. +</p> + +<p> +The instinctive depression vanished before this reasoning. He suddenly +became light-hearted. +</p> + +<p> +But immediately the dark mood returned. Granted all this; how about the +last two days? Before that it might well be that her sense of duty to her +country, her firmness of spirit, her honour itself would impel her to +cling to the last hope of gaining her end. Until his influence over M'tela +was quite assured, Winkleman's arrival would probably turn the scale. She +had not prevented Kingozi's arriving before the Bavarian; but she might +hold the Englishman comparatively powerless. That was understandable. +Kingozi felt he might even love her the more for this evidence of a +faithful spirit. But the last few days! It must have become evident to her +that her cause was lost; that M'tela's friendship had been gained for the +English. If she had cared for him the least in the world would not she +have hastened to produce the pilocarpin for his relief? What could she +hope to gain by concealing it? And then the other words insisted on his +recollection, bitter words--when, first blinded, he had asked her to read +the labels on the bottle that would have given him sight. "Why should I do +this for you? You have treated me as a man treats his dog, his horse, his +servant, his child--not as a man treats a woman!" What real reason--besides his hopes--had he for thinking she did not still hate him, or at +least remain indifferent to him? So indifferent that even after her chance +had passed she still neglected to inform him that the pilocarpin was not +destroyed after all. +</p> + +<p> +Winkleman talked on and on about his saurian. Would he never stop and go +away? +</p> + +<p> +"I agree with you; you are probably right," said Kingozi at last, driven +by sheer desperation to the endorsement of he knew not what scientific +heresy. Winkleman snorted heavily in triumph, and returned the bone to a +vastly relieved Simba. Kingozi interposed in haste before the introduction +of a new topic. +</p> + +<p> +"Undoubtedly you will wish to see the palace of M'tela," said he with deep +wile. "Of course you are supposed to be my prisoner, so I must send you +under guard. You might take a small present to M'tela from me. I have not +yet visited his place of course. This might be considered a preliminary to +my first visit. Does it appeal to you?" +</p> + +<p> +"But yes! And I shall behave. I have given my parole. I shall be the good +boy!" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course. I understand that. Do you eat at noon? No? Well, good luck. +Cazi Moto, take Mali-ya-bwana and two <i>askari</i> guns, and go with <i>Bwana</i> +Nyele to the palace of M'tela." +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had the group disappeared down the forest path when Kingozi was +at the tent door of the Leopard Woman. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Hodie?</i>" he pronounced the native word of one desiring entrance. +</p> + +<p> +"Who is there?" she asked in Swahili. +</p> + +<p> +"I--Culbertson." +</p> + +<p> +A slight pause; then her voice: +</p> + +<p> +"Come." +</p> + +<p> +He drew aside the tent flaps and entered. She was half reclining on the +cot, her back raised by pillows stuffed with sweet grass. Her silk +garment, carelessly arranged, had fallen partly open, so that the gleam of +her flesh showed tantalizingly here and there. The blood leaped to +Kingozi's forehead. She did not alter her pose. Suddenly he realized: of +course, she thought him blind! +</p> + +<p> +The embarrassment met his sterner mood in a head-on collision, so that for +a moment the impulsive speech failed him. She spoke first. +</p> + +<p> +"That was Winkleman, I suppose," she said. "I did not want to appear. What +is decided?" +</p> + +<p> +"Decided?" he stammered, not knowing where to look, but unable to keep his +eyes from straying. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Is it too late? Can he prevail with this M'tela after all?" +</p> + +<p> +"He is my prisoner; he has given his parole." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh!" she exclaimed, raising herself on her elbow in excitement. The +abrupt movement dropped the robe from her shoulder. "You can see!" she +cried; and huddled the garment about her in a panic. "You can see!" she +repeated amazedly. "How is that? What has happened?" +</p> + +<p> +The words brought him to himself and to his need for definite knowledge. +</p> + +<p> +"Winkleman read the labels on my bottles," he said sternly. "I have simply +used the pilocarpin." +</p> + +<p> +"The pilocarpin! But that was destroyed!" +</p> + +<p> +So unmistakably genuine was her cry of amazement that Kingozi's heart +leaped with joy. She had not known! He took a step toward the couch. +</p> + +<p> +But at this moment a wild hullabaloo broke out in the camp. Men yelled and +shouted. Some one began to blow a horn. There came the sound of many +running to and fro. "Damn!" ejaculated Kingozi fervently; and ran out of +the tent. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xxxii">CHAPTER XXXII</a></h2> + +<h3>THE COLOURS</h3> + +<p> +The whole camp was gathered about a number of M'tela's people, who were +all talking at once. The din was something prodigious. Kingozi pushed his +way rather angrily to the centre of disturbance. +</p> + +<p> +"Here, what is this?" he demanded to know. +</p> + +<p> +But a dead, astonished silence fell upon them all. They stared at him +gaping. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it?" repeated Kingozi impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +"But <i>bwana!</i>" cried Cazi Moto. "You see!" +</p> + +<p> +"That is a magic," replied Kingozi curtly. "Now what is all this <i>kalele</i> +about?" +</p> + +<p> +"Bwana, these people say that messengers have come in telling of many +white men and <i>askaris</i> marching in this direction." +</p> + +<p> +"From where? But that does not matter--are they <i>Inglishee</i> or <i>Duyche?</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"These <i>shenzis</i> do not know the difference." +</p> + +<p> +"That is true. How far away are they?" +</p> + +<p> +"Very near, <i>bwana</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Get my gun. Have Simba follow me. Here, you lead the way." They marched +rapidly through the forest path and past the palace of M'tela, which +Kingozi had never seen. The savage king came out, and Winkleman and his +bodyguard soon followed. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, King," said Kingozi. "Now is the time to show to me that your +friendship is true. As you know, other white men are coming, with +warriors. I do not know yet whether these are <i>Inglishee</i>, who are my +friends--and yours--or <i>Duyche</i>, who are my enemies. If they are <i>Duyche</i> +they must be attacked and killed or captured, for we are at war." +</p> + +<p> +He watched M'tela carefully while he spoke, and felt satisfaction at what +he saw. +</p> + +<p> +"Have no fear, papa," replied M'tela easily. "I will cause the great drums +to be beaten. My warriors are as the leaves of the grass; and these are +few." +</p> + +<p> +"Nevertheless they will kill many of yours," said Kingozi with great +earnestness; "for they have guns that kill many times and at a long +distance. When your warriors hear the great noise they make, and see the +dead men, they will run." "You do not know the warriors of M'tela," +replied the king with dignity. "Should the half of them fall, the other +half will give these to the hyenas. Yes, even if they had the thunder +itself as weapon!" +</p> + +<p> +"How many are there, oh, King?" asked Kingozi, greatly relieved. +</p> + +<p> +"My men report thirty-one white men and many black men." +</p> + +<p> +"I go now," advised Kingozi, "to look upon these men. Give me guides, and +a messenger to send back with news of what I find." +</p> + +<p> +M'tela issued the orders. A moment later Kingozi started on. Winkleman, +who had spoken no word, waved him a friendly good-bye. Before they had +reached the forest edge the great war drums began to roar. +</p> + +<p> +The guides took them swiftly down the forest path and across the rolling +country with the groves. Kingozi looked at it all with curiosity and +delight. It seemed to him that never in all his wanderings had he seen so +beautiful and variegated a prospect. His blindness had overtaken him, it +must be remembered, out on the open dry veldt, between the Great and the +Little Rains. It was as though he had awakened from a sleep to find +himself in this watered, green, and wooded paradise. +</p> + +<p> +At the top of a hill the guide stopped and pointed. Kingozi gathered that +through the distant cleft he indicated the strangers must come. All sat +down and waited. +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a name="illusp300.jpg"></a> +<a href="images/illusp300.jpg"><img src="images/illusp300_th.jpg" alt="At the top of the hill the guide stopped and pointed. Kingozi gathered that through the distant cleft he indicated the strangers must come"></a> +</p> + +<p> +An hour passed. Simba uttered an exclamation. Kingozi raised his glasses. +Tiny figures on foot were debouching from the forest. They spread in all +directions, advancing in fan-formation. Evidently the scouts. Then more +tiny figures, figures on horseback. Kingozi counted them. There were, as +M'tela had said, just thirty-one; a gallant little band, but at this +distance indistinguishable. They rode out some distance. And at last the +first files of the black troops appeared. Kingozi dropped his glasses to +the end of its thong with a cheer. Drooping in the still air the colours +were nevertheless easily recognized. The flag was of England. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Inglishee! Inglishee!</i>" he repeated to M'tela's messengers, and made a +motion back toward the palace. The men departed at a lope. Kingozi and +Simba took the other direction. +</p> + +<p> +They met the newcomers halfway across the long, shallow dish between the +wooded hills. On catching sight of them the mounted white men spurred +forward. A confusion of greetings stormed them. +</p> + +<p> +"It's Culbertson!" "Where did <i>you</i> rain down from?" "We've been looking +for you without end! Isn't this a lark, old man!" +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime, in the personal attendants of these white men, Simba had +discovered acquaintances; among them the two messengers Kingozi had +despatched back in quest of Doctor McCloud. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi stood in the middle of the group, his heart overflowing. It was +good to see so many white faces again; it was good to see the faces of +friends; it was good to know that his labours had not been in vain, and +that the border was assured. And underneath it was a great exaltation. He +walked on air. For she had not known! The blank astonishment of her face +had proved that to him beyond a doubt. She really thought that she had +destroyed the pilocarpin; she had not deliberately held from him the light +of day! +</p> + +<p> +His high spirits expressed themselves in an animation and volubility so +unlike the taciturn Culbertson that many of his acquaintances stared. +</p> + +<p> +"Seems quite bucked up," commented one to another. "Must have had a deuce +of a time back here." +</p> + +<p> +"What is this arm of His Majesty's Service, anyway?" Kingozi was asking in +general. "I mean the mounted and disreputable portion, not the decent +infantry." +</p> + +<p> +"This, my son, is the Settlers' Own Irregulars; and we've come out for to +hunt the shy and elusive German." +</p> + +<p> +"Good heads scarce up this way," rejoined Kingozi. "I've caught one +specimen myself, however." +</p> + +<p> +"Specimen of what?" +</p> + +<p> +"German. Ever hear of Winkleman?" +</p> + +<p> +"Rather! The native <i>fundi?</i>[<a href="#19">19</a>] You don't mean to say you've got him!" +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="19">19</a>: Fundi--expert.] +</p> + +<p> +"I've got him. He's the only specimen in these parts. But I can show you +several thousand of the best fighting men in Africa--all loyal British +allies." +</p> + +<p> +"Good man!" cried a grizzled old settler. "I told 'em you'd do it!" +</p> + +<p> +"But the war?" demanded Kingozi eagerly. "What of the war? Tell me? I know +nothing whatever." +</p> + +<p> +One of the younger men dismounted and insisted on delivering his animal to +Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +"Do me good to stretch my legs," said he. "And you've walked your share." +</p> + +<p> +Riding in a little group of the officers Kingozi listened attentively to +an account of affairs as far as they were known. The Marne, and the +Retreat from Mons straightened him in his saddle. It was worth it; he had +done his bit! Whatever the price, it was worth it! +</p> + +<p> +The account finished, Captain Walsh began questioning in his turn. +</p> + +<p> +"Excellent!" he greeted Kingozi's account. "Couldn't be better! We have +reasons to believe that the water-holes on this route are mapped by the +Germans." +</p> + +<p> +"They are," interrupted Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +"And that the plan contemplated coming through here, gathering the tribes +as they advanced, and finally cutting in on us with a big force from the +rear." +</p> + +<p> +"They'll run against a stone wall hereabouts," said Kingozi with +satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +"Lucky for us. I've only four companies--and these settlers. We are really +only a reconnaissance." +</p> + +<p> +"How did you happen to follow my route?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ran against the messengers you sent back to get Doctor McCloud. They +guided us. By the way, what is it? Must have been serious. You're not a +man to run to panics. You look fit enough now." +</p> + +<p> +"Eyes," explained Kingozi. His heart sank, for the failure of his +messengers to go on after McCloud took away the last small hope of saving +his eyesight. +</p> + +<p> +"Fancy it will be all right," said Captain Walsh vaguely. He was thinking, +quite properly, of ways and means and dispositions. "About this sultan, +now; what do you advise----" +</p> + +<p> +They rode forward slowly through the high, aromatic grasses, discussing +earnestly every angle of policy to be assumed in regard to M'tela. At its +close all the white men were called together and given instructions. Even +the youngest and most flippant knew natives well enough to realize the +value of the structure Kingozi had built, and to listen attentively. +</p> + +<p> +These alternate marches and halts had permitted the foot troops to close +up. Kingozi turned in his saddle to look at them. Fine, upstanding black +men they were, marching straight and soldierly, neat in their uniforms of +khaki, with the dull red tarboush, the blue leggings, the bare knees and +feet. They were picked troops from the Sudan, these, fighting men by +birth, whose chief tradition was that in case his colonel was killed no +man must come back to his woman short of wiping out the last of the enemy. +In spite of a long march they walked jauntily. Two mounted white men +brought up the rear. +</p> + +<p> +Now they entered the cool forest trail. The sound of distant drums became +audible. Men straightened in their saddles. Captain Walsh gave crisp +orders. They entered the cleared space before M'tela's palace with colours +flying and snare drums tapping briskly. +</p> + +<p> +The full force of M'tela's power seemed to have been gathered, gorgeous in +the panoply of war. The forest threw back the roar of drums, of horns, of +people chanting or shouting. Straight to the middle of the square marched +the Sudanese, wheeled smartly into line. At a command they raised their +rifles and fired a volley, the first gunfire ever heard in this ancient +forest. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h2><a name="xxxiii">CHAPTER XXXIII</a></h2> + +<h3>CURTAIN</h3> + +<p> +The sun was setting. In a few minutes more the swift darkness would fall. +After delivering the astonishing volley the troops wheeled and under +Kingozi's guidance proceeded down the forest path to the great clearing. +It was the close of a long, hard day, but under the scrutinizing eyes of +these thousands of proud <i>shenzis</i> the Sudanese stepped forth jauntily. +Camping places were designated. All was activity as the tents were raised. +</p> + +<p> +But now rode in the two white men who had closed the rear of the column, +not only of the fighting men, but of the burden bearers as well. They were +covered with dust and apparently very glad to arrive. One of them rode +directly to the group of officers and dismounted stiffly. +</p> + +<p> +"McCloud!" cried Kingozi. +</p> + +<p> +"The same," replied that efficient surgeon. "And now let's see the eyes. I +have your scrawl." He stumped forward, looking keenly for what he wanted. +"Sit here in this chair. Boy!" he bawled. "<i>Lete taa</i>--bring the lantern. +And my case of knives. No, my lad, I'm not going to operate on you +instanter, but I do want my reflector. Hold the light just here. Now, +don't any of you move. Tip your head back a bit, that's a good chap." He +went methodically forward with his examination as though he were at home +in his white office. "H'm. How long this been going on? Five weeks, eh! +Been blind? Oh--why didn't you use that pilocarpin I gave you--I see." +The officers and other white men stood about in a compact and silent +group. A sudden grave realization of the situation had descended upon +them, sobering their careless or laughing countenances. No one knew +exactly what it was all about, but some had caught the word "blindness" +and repeated it to others. Some one yelled "<i>kalale</i>" savagely at the +chattering men. Almost a dead stillness fell on the clearing, so that in +the falling twilight the tree hyraxes took heart and began to utter their +demoniac screams. The darkness came down softly. Soon the group in the +centre turned to silhouettes against the light of the two lanterns held +head high on either side the patient. +</p> + +<p> +Absorbedly Doctor McCloud proceeded. Kingozi sat quietly, turning his head +to either side, raising or lowering his chin as he was requested to do so. +At last McCloud straightened his back. +</p> + +<p> +"It is glaucoma right enough," said he; "fairly advanced. The pilocarpin +has been a palliative. An operation is called for--iridectomy." +</p> + +<p> +He paused, wiping his mirror. Nobody dared ask the question that Kingozi +himself at last propounded. +</p> + +<p> +"Can you do it--have you the necessary instruments?'" +</p> + +<p> +"Fine spade scalpel, small tweezers, scissors--<i>and</i> a lot of experience. +I've got all the former." +</p> + +<p> +"And the latter?" +</p> + +<p> +"I've done the operation before," said McCloud dryly. +</p> + +<p> +"Will it restore my sight permanently." +</p> + +<p> +"If successful the job will be permanent." +</p> + +<p> +"What chance of success?" +</p> + +<p> +"Fair--fair," rejoined McCloud with a touch of impatience. "How can I +tell? But I'll just inform you of this, my lad, without the operation +you're stone blind for the rest of your days, and it must be done now or +not at all. So there's your Hobson's choice; and we'll get at it +comfortably in the morning." +</p> + +<p> +He turned away and stopped with a frank stare of astonishment. The other +men followed his gaze, and also stared. +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman stood just within the circle of illumination. So intent +was she on the examination and on Kingozi that she seemed utterly +unconscious of the men standing over opposite. Her soft silk robe fell +about her body in classic folds; the single jewel on its chain fillet +blazed on her forehead; her hair fell in its braid to her hips, and her +wide, gray-green eyes were fixed on the seated man. A more startlingly +exotic figure for the wilds of Central Africa could not be imagined. The +expressions on the faces of the newcomers were varied enough, to be sure, +but all had a common groundwork of fair imbecility. +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a name="illusp308.jpg"></a> +<a href="images/illusp308.jpg"><img src="images/illusp308_th.jpg" alt="So intent was the Leopard Woman on the examination that she seemed utterly unconscious of the men standing over opposite."></a> +</p> + +<p> +She seemed to be unaware of even their presence. When McCloud had +pronounced his opinion, she glided forward and laid her hand on Kingozi's +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad--but I am afraid," she said softly. Kingozi covered her hand +with one of his own. His eyes twinkled with quiet amusement as he looked +about him at the stricken faces of his friends. She whirled on the gaping +McCloud. "But you must have a care!" she cried at him vehemently. "You +must save his eyes. I wish it!" +</p> + +<p> +McCloud, recovering himself, bowed. +</p> + +<p> +"Madam," said he with a faint, amused irony. "It shall be my pleasure to +do my best in fulfilling your commands." +</p> + +<p> +"It must be," she repeated; and turned to face the rest. "He is a great +man; he must be saved. All this is folly. I have fought him to my best, +for long, and I have used all means--good and bad. He conquered me as one +who--what you call--subdues a child. And he is generous, and brave, and +when the darkness comes to him he does not sit and weep. He is a great +soul, and all things must be done!" +</p> + +<p> +She was superb, her head thrown back. Captain Walsh was the first to +recover from the stunned condition in which all found themselves. He +bowed. +</p> + +<p> +"Madam," said he, "in what you say we heartily concur. We add our urgence +to yours. You must forgive our stupidity to the surprise of your +appearance. Even yet my astonishment has not abated." He turned easily to +Kingozi: "I hope you will afford me the pleasure of naming me to madam." +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi arose to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know your name," he muttered to her. +</p> + +<p> +"I am the Leopard Woman," she smiled back on him enigmatically. +</p> + +<p> +Kingozi paused, embarrassed as to what to do. He could not use that name +in an introduction to these men. She was looking at him mischievously. +</p> + +<p> +"Captain Walsh--and gentlemen," said Kingozi suddenly, "I want the +pleasure of presenting you to--my future wife!" +</p> + +<p> +Her gasp of astonishment was lost in the chorus of congratulatory cries. +It was all mysterious, profoundly astonishing. Much was to be explained. +But for the moment each man was ready to believe the evidences of his own +senses--that no matter how incongruous the fact of her presence might be, +there she was, beautiful as the night. And every man facing her had seen +the glory that shone from within when Kingozi had pronounced his +introduction. Captain Walsh was speaking. +</p> + +<p> +"This is an occasion," he said, "and the King's African Rifles cannot have +it otherwise than that you become their guests. I see our camp is in +preparation. We have nothing beyond the ordinary stores, but you must all +dine with us." He paused, considering. "Say in an hour," he continued. "It +must be early, for I do not doubt we must receive his royal highness this +evening." +</p> + +<p> +"You're right," said Kingozi, "and unless I miss my guess it will be an +all-night job." +</p> + +<p> +The travel-wearied men groaned. +</p> + +<p> +"No help for it," said Captain Walsh cheerfully. +</p> + +<p> +They pressed forward to shake the hands of this strange couple. The +Leopard Woman carried herself with the ease and poise of one accustomed to +receiving homage. She had drawn near Kingozi again, and managed to reach +out and press his arm. +</p> + +<p> +"Ye'll be married soon, I'm thinking," surmised McCloud. +</p> + +<p> +"Depends," replied Kingozi, his brow darkening. "Part of it's up to you, +you know," he added briefly. "A blind man is a poor man." +</p> + +<p> +"We shall be married soon--now, if there is a priest among you!" cried the +Leopard Woman vehemently, "As for poor man--pouf!" She turned to Walsh +with an engaging smile. "And you, where you came, did you pass the people +who live in the mountains back there, with a <i>sultani</i> who dressed in +black----" +</p> + +<p> +"I know," supplemented Captain Walsh, "very well." +</p> + +<p> +"The <i>sultani</i> whose place has a fortified gate." +</p> + +<p> +"Really? We did not get to his village; too much of a hurry." +</p> + +<p> +The Leopard Woman shot a glance at Kingozi. He saw the triumph in it, and +understood. The ivory stockade was unknown to any but themselves; still +remained there in all its wealth awaiting the first trader. And that +trader should be himself! +</p> + +<p> +"Poor, indeed!" she whispered to him. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment a roar of astonishment came up to them from down the slope. +All turned to see Winkleman, the forgotten Winkleman, standing at the door +of his tent. He was in pajamas, and his thick hair was tousled about. +</p> + +<p> +"But how I have slept!" he cried, "and the English, they have come! Well, +well!" He came out, stretching his great arms lazily over his head. They +stiffened in surprise as he caught sight of the Leopard Woman. For a +second he stared; then dropped his arms with one of his big, gusty laughs. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Kolossal!</i>" he roared. "The Countess Miklos! I was wondering! So he has +captured you, too, has he!" +</p> + +<p> +With a simple and unembarrassed gesture she laid her arm across Kingozi's +shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +"But yes," she repeated softly. "He has captured me, too." +</p> + +<p> +At the tiny fire burning before the tent reserved for the headmen of the +camp sat Simba, Cazi Moto, and Mali-ya-bwana. The bone of the <i>saurian</i> +lay before Simba, who was bragging. +</p> + +<p> +"Great is the magic of this bone, which is mine. It has brought us a long +journey; it has won us the friendship of the great chief; it has revealed +to us much riches in the teeth of <i>tembo</i>, the elephant, though that must +not be spoken aside from us three; it has restored the light to <i>Bwana</i> +Kingozi, our master; it has captured for us a great <i>bwana</i> and a rich +safari; it has brought to us <i>Bwana</i> Bunduki[<a href="#20">20</a>] and many <i>bwanas</i> and +<i>askaris</i>; it has brought to our master a woman for his own--though to be +sure there are many women. Great is this magic; and it is mine. With it I +shall be lucky always." +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +[<a name="20">20</a>: The Master of the Rifle--Captain Walsh.] +</p> + +<p> +"A-a-a-a!" agreed Cazi Moto and Mali-ya-bwana respectfully. +</p> + +<p> +From the darkened mysterious forest the tree hyraxes, excited by the +numerous fires and the voices of so large an encampment, were wailing and +shrieking. +</p> + +<p> +"The dead are restless tonight," said Simba, poking the fire. +</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Leopard Woman, by Stewart Edward White + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LEOPARD WOMAN *** + +***** This file should be named 9401-h.htm or 9401-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/4/0/9401/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Richard Prairie, Tonya Allen, +and Project Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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