THE LEOPARD WOMAN

BY

STEWART EDWARD WHITE

Illustrated by W. H. D. Koerner

1916

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 I. The March II. The Camp III. The Rhinoceros IV. The Stranger V. The Encounter VI. The Leopard Woman VII. The Water Hole VIII. The Thirst IX. On the Plateau X. The _Suliani_ XI. The Ivory Stockade XII. The Pilocarpin XIII. The Tropic Moon XIV. Over the Ranges XV. The Sharpening of the Spear XVI. The Murder XVII. The Darkness XVIII. The Leopard Woman Changes Her Spots XIX. The Trial XX. Kingozi's Ultimatum XXI. The Messengers XXII. The Second Messengers XXIII. The Council of War XXIV. M'tela's Country XXV. M'tela XXVI. Waiting XXVII. The Magic BoneXXVIII. Simba's Adventure XXIX. Winkleman's Safari Arrives XXX. Winkleman Appears XXXI. Light Again XXXII. The ColoursXXXIII. Curtain

ILLUSTRATIONS

"'Go, I say!' cried the Leopard Woman. 'And hold up your head. If this issuspected of you, you will surely die'" ... _Frontispiece_

"'If you _will_ ride in a hammock, you ought to teach your men to shoot, 'was Kingozi's greeting"

"After the flat crack of the rifle a hollow _plunk_ indicated that thebullet had told"

"Their eyes were large with curiosity as to this man and woman of a newspecies ... Kingozi touched his lips to the _tembo_"

"'Cazi Moto, take this stick and make on the ground marks exactly likethose on the _barua_. Make them deep, so that I may feel them with myhands'"

"The search party found Winkleman, very dirty, quite hungry, profoundlychagrined"

"At the top of the hill the guide stopped and pointed. Kingozi gatheredthat through the distant cleft he indicated the strangers must come"

"So intent was the Leopard Woman on the examination and on Kingozi thatshe seemed utterly unconscious of the men standing over opposite ... Amore startlingly exotic figure for the wilds of Central Africa could notbe imagined"

THE LEOPARD WOMAN

CHAPTER I

THE MARCH

It was the close of the day. Over the baked veldt of Equatorial Africa asafari marched. The men, in single file, were reduced to the unimportanceof moving black dots by the tremendous sweep of the dry country stretchingaway 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 themind, would a bystander on the advantage, say, of one of the little rocky, outcropping hills have been able to narrow his vision to details. 

And yet details were interesting. The vast shallow cup to the horizonbecame a plain sparsely grown with flat-topped thorn trees. It was not aforest, yet neither was it open country. The eye penetrated the thinscreen of tree trunks to the distance of half a mile or more, but wasbrought to a stop at last. Underfoot was hard-baked earth, covered byirregular patches of shale that tinkled when stepped on. Well-definedpaths, innumerable, trodden deep and hard, cut into the iron soil. Theynearly all ran in a northwesterly direction. The few traversing paths tooka long slant. These paths, so exactly like those crossing a village green, had in all probability never been trodden by human foot. They had beenmade by the game animals, the swarming multitudinous game of CentralAfrica. 

The safari was using one of the game trails. It was a compact littlesafari, comprising not over thirty men all told. The single white manwalked fifty yards or so ahead of the main body. He was evidently tired, for his shoulders drooped, and his shuffling, slow-swinging gait wouldanywhere have been recognized by children of the wilderness as that whichgets the greatest result from the least effort. Dressed in the brown corkhelmet, the brown flannel shirt with spine-pad, the khaki trousers, andthe light boots of the African traveller little was to be made of eitherhis face or figure. The former was fully bearded, the latter powerfulacross the shoulders. His belt was heavy with little leather pockets; apair 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 lightrifle. 

Immediately at his heels followed a native. This man's face was inconformation 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, neverstill save when they paused for a flickering instant to examine somegazelle, some distant herd of zebra or wildebeeste standing in the vistaof the flat-topped trees. His nostrils slowly expanded and contracted withhis breathing, as do those of a spirited horse. In contrast to the gait ofthe white man he stepped vigorously and proudly as though the long day hadnot touched his strength. He wore a battered old felt hat, a tatteredflannel shirt, a ragged pair of shorts, and the blue puttees issued by theBritish to their native troops. The straps of two canteens crossed on hisbreast; a full cartridge belt encircled his waist; he carried lightly andeasily one of those twelve-pound double cordite rifles that constitute theonly African life insurance. 

Fifty yards in the rear marched the carriers. They were a straight, stronglot, dressed according to their fancy or opportunity in the cast-offgarments of the coast; comical in the ensemble, perhaps, but worthy ofrespect in that all day each had carried a seventy-pound load under atropical sun, and that they were coming in strong. 

And finally, bringing up the rear, marched a small, lively, wizened littlefellow, dressed as nearly as possible like the white man, and carrying asthe badge of his office a bulging cotton umbrella and the _kiboko_--theslender, limber, stinging rhinoceros-hide whip. 

It was the end of a long march. This could be guessed by the hour, by thewearied 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, carriedon their heads, held them erect. They stepped out freely. But against thewooden chop boxes, the bags of cornmeal _potio_, the bundles of canvasthat made up some of the loads, the long safari sticks went _tap, tap, tap_, in rhythm. This tapping was a steady undertone to the volume ofnoise that arose from thirty throats. Every man was singing or shouting atthe full strength of his lungs. A little file of Wakamba sung in unisonone of the weird wavering minor chants peculiar to savage peopleseverywhere; some Kavirondos simply howled in staccato barks like beasts. Between the extremes were many variations; but every man contributed tothe uproar, and tapped his load rhythmically with his long stick. By thisthe experienced traveller would have known that the men were very tired, tired to the point of exhaustion; for the more wearied the Central Africannative, or the steeper the hill he, laden, must surmount, the louder hesings or yells. 

"_Maji hapana m'bale, bwana_, " observed the gun bearer to the white man. "Water is not far, master. "

The white man merely nodded. These two had been together many years, andexplanations were not necessary between them. He, as well as Simba, hadnoticed the gradual convergence of the game trails, the presence of smallgrass birds that flushed under their feet, the sing-sing buck behind thealoes, the increasing numbers of game animals that stared or fled at thesight and sound of the safari. 

Nothing more was said. The way led to the top of one of those lowtransverse swells that conceal the middle distance without actuallybreaking the surface of the veldt. In the corresponding depression beyondnow could be discerned a wandering slender line of green. 

"_Maji huko!_" murmured Simba. "There is the water. "

Suddenly he stooped low, uttering a peculiar hissing sound. The white man, too, dropped to the ground, throwing his rifle forward. 

"_Nyama, bwana!_" he whispered fiercely, "_karibu sana!_"

He pointed cautiously over the white man's shoulder. The safari, at thesight of the two dropping to a crouch, had stopped as though petrified, and stood waiting in silence. 

"We have no meat, " Simba reminded his master in Swahili. 

The white man eased himself back to a sitting posture, resting his elbowson his knees, as all sensible good rifle shots do when they have thechance. Simba, his eyes glowing fiercely, staring with almost hypnoticintensity over his master's shoulder, quivered like an eager dog. 

"Hah!" he grunted as the loud spat of the bullet followed the rifle'scrack. "_Na kamata_--he has it!" he added as the wildebeeste plunged intofull view. 

The hunter manipulated the bolt to throw in a new cartridge, but did notshift his position. In less remote countries the sportsman, unlimited inammunition but restricted in chances, would probably have pumped in fouror five shots until the quarry was down. The traveller and Simba watchedclosely, with expert eyes, to determine whether a precious secondcartridge should be expended. 

"Where?" asked the white man briefly. 

"Low in the shoulder, " replied Simba. 

The wildebeeste plunged wildly here and there, kicking, bucking, menacingthe unseen danger with his horns. For several seconds longer the twowatched, then rose leisurely to their feet. Simba motioned to the waitingsafari, who, correctly interpreting the situation, broke into a trot. BothSimba and his master knew that had the animal not received a mortal woundit would before this have whirled to look back. The fact that it still ranproved its extremity. Sure enough, within the hundred yards it suddenlyplunged forward on its nose, rolled over, and lay still. 

The fierce countenance of the gun bearer lit up in triumph. He shifted theheavy rifle and reached out to touch the lighter weapon resting again inthe crook of his master's arm. 

"_Nyama Yangu! Nyama Yangu!_" he murmured. That was Simba's name for thelight rifle that did most of the shooting. The words meant simply "mymeat. " Simba had a name for everything from the sheath knife of his officeto the white man himself. Indeed Culbertson in the Central countries wasCulbertson to none. Should you inquire for news of him by that name newsyou could not obtain; but of Bwana Kingozi you might learn from manytribes and peoples. 

But now the safari, topping the hill, swept down with a rapid fire ofsafari sticks against the loads and a chorus whose single word was"_n'yama!_"

Simba was already at the carcass, _Kisu M'kubwa_, his thin-bladed knife, in his hand. The men eased their loads to the ground, and stood about witheagerly gleaming eyes, as would well-trained dogs in like circumstances. Simba briefly indicated the three nearest to act as his assistants. Thewildebeeste was rapidly skinned and as rapidly dismembered, the meat laidaside. Only once did the white man speak or manifest the slightestinterest. 

"_Sarrara indani yangu_--the tenderloin is mine. "

The wizened little headman with the umbrella and the _kiboko_, whoanswered to the name of Cazi Moto, stepped forward and took charge of theindicated 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 andpacked away in the hide. 

Already the carrion birds had gathered in incredible numbers. The sky wasfull of them circling; an encompassing ring of them sat a scant fiftyyards distant, their wings held half out from their bodies, as though theyfelt overheated. And in the low bushes could be discerned the lurking, furtive, shadowy jackals. 

The men were laughing, their weariness forgotten. Maulo, the camphumourist, declaimed loudly at the top of his lungs, mocking themarabouts, the buzzards, the vultures great and small, the kites and theeagles. 

"Go to the lion, " he cried, "he kills much, and leaves. Little meat willyou get here. We keep what we get!"

And the men broke into meaningless but hearty laughter, as though atbrilliant wit. 

But Bwana Kingozi's low voice cut across the merriment. 

"_Bandika!_" he commanded. 

And immediately Cazi Moto and Simba took up the cry. 

"_Bandika! bandika! bandika!_" they vociferated over and over. Cazi Motomoved here and there, lively as a cricket, his eyes alert for anyindication of slackness, his _kiboko_ held threateningly. 

But there was no need for the latter. The men willingly enough swung alofttheir loads, now augmented by the meat, and the little caravan moved on. 

Scarcely had Cazi Moto, bringing up the rear, quitted the scene when thecarrion birds swooped. They fell from the open sky like plummets, theirwings half folded. When within ten feet of the ground they checked theirfall with pinion and tail, and the sound of them was like the roar of acataract. Those seated on the ground moved forward in a series of ungainlyhops, trying for more haste by futile urgings of their wings. Where thewildebeeste had fallen was a writhing, flopping, struggling brown mass. Inan incredibly brief number of seconds it was all over. The birds withdrew. Some sat disgruntled and humpbacked in the low trees; some merely hoppedaway a few yards to indulge in gloomy thoughts. A few of the moreambitious rose heavily and laboriously with strenuous beating of pinions, finally to soar grandly away into the infinities of the African sky. Ofthe wildebeeste remained only a trampled bloody space and bones pickedclean. The jackals crept forward at last. So brief a time did all thisoccupy that Maulo, looking back, saw them. 

"Ho, little dogs!" he cried with one of his great empty laughs; "yourstomachs will go hollow but you can fill your noses!"

They tramped on steadily toward the low narrow line of green trees, andthe sun sank toward the hills. 

CHAPTER II

THE CAMP

The game trails converged at a point where the steep, eroded bank had beenbroken down into an approach to a pool. The dust was deep here, and arosein a cloud as a little band of zebra scrambled away. The borders of thispool were a fascinating palimpsest: the tracks of many sorts of beast hadbeen impressed there in the mud. Both Kingozi and Simba examined them withan approach to interest, though to an observer the examination would haveseemed 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 ofthe veldt. But over these their eyes passed lightly. Only three thingscould here interest these seasoned African travellers. Simba espied one ofthem, and pointed it out, just at the edge of the narrow border of softermud. 

"There is the lion, " said he. "A big one. He was here this morning. But nobuffalo, _bwana_; and no elephant. "

The water in the pool was muddy and foul. Thousands of animals drank fromit daily; and after drinking had stood or wallowed in it. The flavourwould be rich of the barnyard, which even a strong infusion of tea couldnot disguise. _Kingozi_ had often been forced to worse; but here he hopedfor better. 

The safari had dumped down the loads at the top of the bank, and wereresting in utter relaxation. The march was over, and they waited. 

Bwana Kingozi threw off the carefully calculated listless slouch that hadconserved his strength for an unknown goal. His work was not yet done. 

"Simba, " he directed, "go that way, down the river[1] and look for anotherpool--of good water. Take the big rifle. "

[Footnote 1: Every watercourse with any water at all, even in occasionalpools, is _m'to_--a river--in Africa. ]

"And I to go in the other direction?" asked Cazi Moto. 

Bwana Kingozi considered, glancing at the setting sun, and again up thedry stream-bed where, as far as the eye could reach, were no moreindications of water. 

"No, " he decided. "It is late. Soon the lions will be hunting. I will go. "

The men sprawled in abandon. After an interval a shrill whistle soundedfrom the direction in which Bwana Kingozi had disappeared. The menstretched and began to rise to their feet slowly. The short rest hadstiffened them and brought home the weariness to their bones. Theygrumbled and muttered, and only the omnipresence of Cazi Moto and thethreat of his restless whip roused them to activity. Down the stream theylimped sullenly. 

Kingozi stood waiting near the edge of the bank. The thicket here was verydense. 

"Water there, " he briefly indicated. "The big tent here; the opening inthat direction. Cook fire over there. Loads here. "

The men who had been standing, the burdens still on their heads, movedforward. The tent porter--who, by the way, was the strongest and mostreliable of the men, so that always, even on a straggling march, the tentwould arrive first--threw it down at the place selected and at once beganto undo the cords. The bearers of the kitchen, who were also reliabletravellers, set about the cook camp. 

A big Monumwezi unstrapped a canvas chair, unfolded it, and placed it nearhis master. The other loads were arranged here, in a certain long-ordainedorder; the meat piled there. Several men then went to the assistance ofMali-ya-bwana, the tent bearer; and the others methodically took upvarious tasks. Some began with their _pangas_ to hew a way to the waterthrough the dense thicket that had kept it sweet; others sought firewood;still others began to pitch the tiny drill tents--each to accommodate sixmen--in a wide circle of which the pile of loads was the centre. As themen fell into the ordered and habitual routine their sullenness andweariness vanished. 

Kingozi dropped into the canvas chair, fumbled for a pipe, filled andlighted it. With a sigh of relief he laid aside his cork helmet. The dayhad not only been a hard one, but an anxious one, for this country was newto every member of the little expedition, native guides had beenimpossible to procure, and the chances of water had been those of an aridregion. 

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 eyessuddenly took twenty years from the age at first made probable by theheavy beard. With the helmet pulled low this was late middle age; nowbareheaded it was only bearded youth. Nevertheless at the corners of theeyes were certain wrinkles, and in the eyes themselves a direct competentsteadiness that was something apart from the usual acquisition of youth, something the result of experience not given to most. 

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 thecompletion of their tasks. 

"_Pita ya maji tayiari_, " said Sanguiki coming from the new-made watertrail. 

"_I zuru_, " approved Kingozi. 

"_Hema tayiari_, " reported Simba, reaching his hand for the light rifle. 

Kingozi glanced toward the tent and nodded. A licking little fireflickered in the cook camp. The tiny porter's tents had completed theircircle, and in front of each new smoke was beginning to rise. Cazi Motoglided up and handed him the _kiboko_, the rhinoceros-hide whip, thesymbol of authority. Everything was in order. 

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 anapparent effort, and began to separate it into four piles. He did nothandle the meat himself, but silently indicated each portion with his_kiboko_, and Simba or Cazi Moto swiftly laid it aside. 

"This for the gun-bearer camp, " commanded Kingozi, touching with his footthe heavy "backstraps" and the liver--the next choicest bits aftertenderloin. He raised his voice. 

"Kavirondo!" he called. 

Several tall, well-formed black savages of this tribe arose from one ofthe little fires and approached. The white man indicated one of the pilesof meat. 

"Wakamba!" he summoned; then "Monumwezi"; and finally "Baganda!"

Thus the four tribes represented in his caravan were supplied. The menreturned to their fires, and began the preparation of their evening meal. 

Kingozi turned to his own tent with a sigh of relief. Within it a cot hadbeen 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 divestinghimself of his accoutrements, Cazi Moto entered bearing a galvanized pailfull of hot water which he poured into the tub. He disappeared only toreturn with a pail of cold water to temper the first. 

"Bath is ready, _bwana_, " said he, and retired, carefully tying the tentflaps behind him. 

Fifteen minutes later Kingozi emerged. He wore now a suit of pajamastucked into canvas "mosquito boots, " with very thin soles. He lookedscrubbed and clean, the sheen of water still glistening on his thick wavyhair. 

The canvas camp chair had been placed before two chop boxes piled one atopthe other to form a crude table on which were laid eating utensils. Assoon as Cazi Moto saw that his master was ready, he brought the meal. Itconsisted simply of a platter of curry composed of rice and the fresh meatthat had been so recently killed that it had not time to get tough. Thiswas supplemented by bread and tea in a tall enamelware vessel known as a_balauri_. From the simplicity of this meal one experienced would havededuced--even had he not done so from a dozen other equally significantnothings--that this was no sporting excursion, but an expedition grimly inearnest about something. 

The sun had set, and almost immediately the darkness descended, as thoughthe light had been turned off at a switch. The earth shrunk to a pool ofblackness, and the heavens expanded to a glory of tropical stars. Allvisible nature contracted to the light thrown by the flickering firesbefore the tiny white tents. The tatterdemalion crew had, after thecurious habit of Africans, cast aside its garments, and sat forth in abronze and savage nakedness. All day long under the blistering sun yoursafari man will wear all that he hath, even unto the heavy overcoatdiscarded by the latest arrival from England's winter; but when the chillof evening descends, then he strips happily. The men were fed now, andwere content. A busy chatter, the crooning of songs, laughter, anoccasional shout testified to this. A general relaxation took the camp. 

The white man finished his meal and lighted his pipe. Even yet his day'swork was not quite done, and he was unwilling to yield himself to restuntil all tasks were cleared away. 

"Cazi Moto!" he called. 

Instantly, it seemed, the headman stood at his elbow. 

"To-morrow, " said Kingozi deliberately, and paused in decision so longthat Cazi Moto ventured a "Yes, _bwana_. "

"To-morrow we rest here. It will be your _cazi_ (duty) to find news of thenext 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. "

"Yes, _bwana_. "

"Are there sick?"

"Two men. "

"Let them come. "

Cazi Moto raised his voice. 

"_N'gonjwa!_" he summoned them. 

Kingozi looked at them in silence for a moment. 

"What is the matter with you?" he asked of the first, a hulking, stupid-looking Kavirondo with the muscles of a Hercules. 

The man replied, addressing Cazi Moto, as is etiquette; and althoughKingozi understood perfectly, he awaited his headman's repetition of thespeech as though the Kavirondo had spoken a strange language. 

"Fever, eh?" commented Kingozi aloud to himself, for the first timespeaking his own tongue. "We'll soon see. Cazi Moto, " he instructed inSwahili, "the medicine. "

He thrust a clinical thermometer beneath the Kavirondo's tongue, glancingat a wrist watch as he did so. 

"Cazi Moto, " he said calmly after three minutes, "this man is a liar. Heis not sick; he merely wants to get out of carrying a load. "

The Kavirondo, his eyes rolling, shot forth a torrent of language. 

"He says, " Cazi Moto summarized all this, "that he was very sick, but thatthis medicine"--indicating the thermometer--"cured him. "

"He lies again, " said Kingozi. "This is not medicine, but magic that tellsme when a man has uttered lies. This man must beware or he will get_kiboko_. "

The Kavirondo scuttled away, and Kingozi gave his attention to the secondpatient. This man had an infected leg that required some minor surgery. When the job was over and Kingozi had washed his hands, he relighted hispipe and sat back in his chair with a sigh of content. The immediateforeground sank below his consciousness. He stared across the flickeringfires at the velvet blackness; listened across the intimate, idle noise ofthe camp to the voice of the veldt. 

For with the fall of darkness and the larger silence of darkness, theveldt awoke. Animals that had dozed through the hot hours and grazedthrough the cooler hours in somnolent content now quivered alert. Therewere runnings here and there, the stamp of hoofs, sharp snortings as tautnerves stretched. Zebras uttered the absurd small-dog barks peculiar tothem; ostriches boomed; jackals yapped; unknown birds uttered hasty wildcalls. Numerous hyenas, near and far away, moaned like lost souls. Kingozilistened as to the voice of an old acquaintance telling familiar things;the men chattered on, their whole attention within the globe of light fromtheir fires. 

But suddenly the noise stopped as though it had been cut by a knife. Totalsilence fell on the little encampment. The men, their various actionssuspended, listened intently. From far away, apparently, a low, vibratingrumble stole out of the night's immensity. It rose and seemed to drawnear, growing hollow and great, until the very ground seemed to tremble asthough a heavy train were passing, or the lower notes of a great organ hadbeen played in a little church. And then it died down, and receded to thegreat distance again, and was ended by three low, grunting coughs. 

The veldt was silent. The zebra barkings were still; the night birds hadhushed; the hyenas and jackals and all the other night creatures down--italmost seemed--to the very insects had ceased their calls and cries andchirpings. One might imagine every living creature rigid, alert, listening, as were these men about the little fires. 

The tension relaxed. The men dropped more fuel on the fires, coaxing theflame brighter. A whispering comment rose from group to group. 

"_Simba! simba! simba!_" they hissed one to the other. 

A lion had roared!

CHAPTER III

THE RHINOCEROS

In the first gray dusk Simba and Cazi Moto slipped away on the errandsappointed for them--to find people and to find water, if possible. Thecook camp, too, was afoot, dark figures passing and repassing before afire. But the rest of the men slept heavily, seizing the unwonted chance. 

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 ofhis voice men stirred sleepily, sat up, poked the remains of their tinyfires. As though through an open tap the freshness of night-time drainedaway. The hot, searching, stifling African day took possession of theworld. 

After breakfast Kingozi looked about him for shelter. A gorgeous, red-flowering vine had smothered one of the flat-topped thorn trees in itsluxuriance. The growths of successive years had overlaid each other. Kingozi called two men with _pangas_ who speedily cut out the centre, leaving a little round green room in the heart of the shadow. ThitherKingozi caused to be conveyed his chop-box table, his canvas chair, andhis tin box; and there he spent the entire morning writing in a blank bookand carefully drawing from field notes in a pocketbook a sketch map of thecountry he had traversed. At noon he ate a light meal of bread, plain ricewith sugar, and a _balauri_ of tea. Then for a time he slept beneath themosquito bar in his tent. 

At this hour of fiercest sun the whole world slept with him. From thebaked earth rose heat waves almost as tangible as gauze veils. Objects ata greater distance than a hundred yards took on strange distortions. Thethorn trees shot up to great heights; animals stood on stilts; the tops ofthe hills were flattened, and from their summits often reached out intospace long streamers. Sometimes these latter joined across wide intervals, creating an illusion of natural bridges or lofty flat-topped cliffs withholes clear through them to the open sky beyond. All these thingsshimmered and flickered and wavered in the mirage of noon. Only the sunitself stared clear and unchanging. 

At about two o'clock Kingozi awoke and raised his voice. Mali-ya-bwana, next in command after Cazi Moto and Simba, answered. 

"Get the big gun, " he was told, "and the water bottles. "

Mali-ya-bwana was not a professed gun bearer, but he could load, andKingozi believed him staunch. Therefore, often, in absence of Simba, thebig Baganda had been pressed into this service. 

The blasting heat was fiercest at this hour. The air was saturated by itjust as water may hold a chemical in solution. Every little while a wavewould 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 powerbegins to decline; when the vertical rays begin to give place. For it isnot heat that kills, but the actinic power of rays unfiltered by a longslant through the earth's atmosphere. 

The two men tramped methodically along, paying little attention to theirsurroundings. Game dozed everywhere beneath the scanty shade, sometimessingly, sometimes in twos or threes, sometimes in herds. Motionless theystood; and often, were it not for the switch of a tail, they would haveremained unobserved. Even the sentinel hartebeestes, posted atop high anthills on the outskirts of the herds, seemed half asleep. Nevertheless theywere awake enough for the job, as was evidenced when the two human figurescame too near. Then a snort brought every creature to its feet, staring. 

The objective of the men seemed to be a rise of land which the lesseningmirage now permitted to appear as a small kopje, a solitary hill withrocky outcrops. Toward this they plodded methodically: Kingozi slouchingahead, Mali-ya-bwana close at his heels, very proud of his temporarypromotion from the ranks. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. At the signalKingozi stopped and looked back inquiringly over his shoulder. 

Mali-ya-bwana was pointing cautiously to a low red clay ant hillimmediately in their path and about thirty yards ahead. To the casualglance it looked no different from any of the hundreds of others of likesize and colour everywhere to be seen. Kingozi's attention, however, nownarrowed to a smaller circle than the casual. It did not need Mali-ya-bwana's whispered "_faru_" (rhinoceros) to identify the mound. 

Cautiously the two men began to back away. When they had receded sometwenty yards, however, the huge beast leaped to its feet. The rapidity ofits movements was extraordinary. There intervened none of the slow andclumsy upheaval one would naturally expect from an animal of so massive abody and such short, thick legs. One moment it slumbered, the next it wasafoot, warned by some slight sound or jar of the earth or--as somemaintain--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. 

The rhinoceros faced them, snorting loudly. The sound was exactly that ofsteam roaring from a locomotive's safety valve. Strangely enough, in spiteof the massive structure and the loose, thick skin of the beast, itconveyed an impression of taut, nervous muscles. Though it faced directlytoward them, the men knew that they were as yet unseen. The rhinoceros'eyesight is very short, or very circumscribed, or both; and only objectsin motion and comparatively close enter its range of vision. Kingozi andhis man held themselves rigidly immovable, waiting for what would happen. The rhinoceros, too, held himself rigidly immovable, his nostrils dilatingbetween snorts, his ears turning; for his senses of smell and hearing madeup in their keenness for the defects of his eyes. 

Suddenly, without the slightest warning, he stuck his tail perpendicularand plunged forward at a clumsy-looking but exceedingly swift gallop. 

An inexperienced man would have considered himself the object of adeliberate "charge"; but an old African traveller, such as Kingozi, knewthis for a blind rush in the direction toward which the animal happened tobe headed. The rhinoceros, alarmed by the first intimation of danger, unable to get further news from its keener senses, had been seized by apanic. Were nothing to deflect him from the straight line, he wouldcontinue ahead on it until the panic had run out. 

But the two men were exactly in that line!

Kingozi hitched his light rifle forward imperceptibly. Although this wasat present only a blind rush, should the rhinoceros catch sight of them hewould fight; and within twenty-five yards or so his eyesight would bequite 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. 

His intention was neither to kill nor to cripple his antagonist. If thathad 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 woundin the outer surface of the beast's left shoulder. Kingozi instantlypassed the light rifle back with his right hand, at the same motionseizing the double rifle with his left. 

But at the _spat_ of the bullet the rhino veered toward the direction fromwhich it seemed to his stupid brain the hurt had come. Tail erect, hethundered away down the slope. 

For a hundred yards he careered full speed, then slowed to a trot, finallystopped, whirled, and faced to a new direction. The sound of his blowingcame clearly across the intervening distance. 

A low bush grew near. The rhino attacked this savagely, horning it, trampling it down. The dust arose in clouds. Then the huge brute trottedslowly away, still snorting angrily, pausing to butt violently the largertrees, or to tear into shreds some bush or ant hill that loomeddangerously in the primeval fogs of his brain. 

"Sorry, old chap, " commented Kingozi in his own language, "but you're nonethe worse. Only I'm afraid your naturally sweet temper is spoiled for to-day, at least. "

He turned to exchange guns with Mali-ya-bwana. 

"_N'dio, bwana_, " assented the latter to a speech of which he understoodnot one word. Mali-ya-bwana was secretly a little proud of himself forhaving stuck like a gun bearer, instead of shinning up a thorn tree like aporter. 

Kingozi slipped a cartridge into the rifle, and the two resumed their walktoward the kopje. 

CHAPTER IV

THE STRANGER

By the time the two men had gained the top of the hill the worst heat ofthe day had passed. Kingozi seated himself on a flat rock and at oncebegan to take sights through a prismatic compass, entering theobservations in a pocketbook. Mali-ya-bwana, bolt upright, stared out overthe thinly wooded plain below. He reported the result of his scouting in alow voice, to which the white man paid no attention whatever. 

"_Twiga[2] bwana_, " he said, and then, as his eye caught the flash of manysing-sing horns, "_kuru, mingi_. " Thus he named over the differentanimals--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 overthe landscape. 

[Footnote 2: Giraffe. ]

From even this slight elevation the outlook extended. Isolated mountainranges showed loftier; the tops of unguessed hills peeped above the curveof the earth; the clear line of the horizon had receded to the outerconfines of terrestrial space, but even then not far enough to touch thecup of the sky. Elsewhere the heavens meet the horizon: in Africa they liebeyond it, so that when the round, fleecy clouds of the Little Rains saildown the wind there is always a fleet of them beyond the earthdisappearing into the immensities of the infinite. There is space inAfrican skies beyond the experience of those who have dwelt only in otherlands. They dwarf the earth; and the plains and mountains, lying in weeks'journeys spread before the eye, dwarf all living things, so that at thelast the man of imagination here becomes a humble creature. 

For an hour the two remained on top the kopje. The details of the unknowncountry ahead, toward which Kingozi gave his attention, were simple. Fromthe green line of the watercourse, near which the camp showed white andtiny, the veldt swept away for miles almost unbroken. Here and there weretiny parklike openings of clear grass; here and there more kopjes standingisolated and alone, like fortresses. Far down over the edge of the worldshowed dim and blue the tops of a short range of mountains. Vainly didKingozi sweep his glasses over the landscape in hope of another line ofgreen. No watercourse was visible. On the other hand, the scattered growthof thorn trees showed no signs of thickening to the dense spiky junglethat is one of the terrors of African travel. There might be a watercoursehidden in the folds of the earth; there might be a rainwater "tank, " or aspring, 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 notpressing at this moment. Kingozi noted the compass bearings of all thekopjes; took back sights in the direction from which he had come; closedhis compass; and began idly to sweep the country with his glasses. In anunwonted mood of expansion he turned to Mali-ya-bwana. 

"We go there, " he told the porter, indicating the blue mountain-tops. 

"It is far, " Mali-ya-bwana replied. 

Kingozi continued to look through his glasses. Suddenly he stopped them onan open plain three or four miles back in the direction from which he hadcome the day before. Mali-ya-bwana followed his gaze. 

"A safari, _bwana_, " he observed, unmoved. "A very large safari, " heamended, after a moment. 

Through his prismatic glasses Kingozi could see every detail plainly. After his fashion of talking aloud, he reported what he saw, partly to theblack man at his side, but mostly to himself. 

"_Askaris_, "[3] he said, "six of them. The man rides in a _machele_[4]--heis either a German or a Portuguese; only those people use _macheles_--unless he is sick! Many porters--four are no more white men. More_askaris!_" He smiled a little contemptuously under his beard. "This is agreat safari, Mali-ya-bwana. Four tin boxes and twelve _askaris_ to guardthem; and eighty or more porters; and sixteen men just to carry the_machele!_ This must be a _Bwana M' Kubwa_. "

[Footnote 3: Native troops, armed with Snider muskets. ]

[Footnote 4: A hammock slung on a long pole, and carried by four men ateach end. ]

"That is what Kavirondos might think, " replied Mali-ya-bwana calmly. 

Kingozi looked up at him with a new curiosity. 

"But not yourself?"

"A man who is a _Bwana M'kubwa_ does not have to be carried. He does notneed _askaris_ to guard him in this country. And where can he get _potio_for so many?"

"Hullo!" cried Kingozi, surprised. "This is not porter's talk; this isheadman's talk!"

"In my own country I am headman of many people, " replied Mali-ya-bwanawith a flash of pride. 

"Yet you carry my tent load. "

But Mali-ya-bwana made no reply, fixing his fierce eyes on the distantcrawling safari. 

"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 gosomewhere nobody else has been, and can't go there without his caviare andhis changes of clothes, and about eight guns--not to speak of a CompleteSportsman's Outfit as advertised exclusively by some Cockney Tom Fool onHaymarket. "

He contemplated a problem frowningly. "Whoever it is will be a nuisance--a_damn_ nuisance!" he concluded. 

"_N'dio, bwana_, " came Mali-ya-bwana's cheerful response to this speech ina language strange to him. 

"You have asked a true question, " Kingozi shifted to Swahili. "Where is_potio_ to be had for so large a safari? Trouble--much trouble!" He arosefrom the flat stone. "We will go and talk with this safari. "

At an angle calculated to intercept the caravan, Kingozi set off down thehill. 

After twenty minutes' brisk walk it became evident that they wereapproaching the route of march. Animals fled past them in increasingnumbers, some headlong, others at a dignified and leisurely gait, asthough performing a duty. The confused noise of many people became audibleand the tapping of safari sticks against the loads. 

At the edge of a tiny opening Kingozi, concealed behind a bush, reviewedthe new arrivals at close range, estimating each element on which ajudgment could be based. As usual, he thought aloud, muttering hisspeculations sometimes in his own language, sometimes in the equallyfamiliar Swahili. 

"_Askaris_ not _pukha[5] askaris_ of the government. Those are not Snidersthey carry--don't know that kind of musket. Those boxes are not the usualtype--wonder where they were bought!"

[Footnote 5: Genuine--regular. ]

The hammock came into view, swinging on the long pole. It was borne byfour men at each end--experienced _machele_ carriers who would keep stepwith a gentle gliding. Eight more walked alongside as relay. They wouldchange places so skilfully that the occupant of the hammock could not havetold when the shift took place. Alongside walked a tall, bareheaded, veryblack man. Kingozi's experienced eye was caught by differences. 

"Of what tribe is that man?" he asked. 

But Mali-ya-bwana was also puzzled. 

"I do not know, bwana. He is a _shenzi_[6]. "

[Footnote 6: Wild Man. ]

The unknown was very tall, very straight, most well formed. But his facewas extraordinarily ugly. His flat, wide nose, thick lips, and smallyellow eyes were set off by an upstanding mop of hair. His expression wasof extraordinary fierceness. He walked with a free and independent stride, and carried a rifle. 

"He is not of this country. He is from the west coast, or perhaps Nubia orthe Sudan, " was Kingozi's conclusion. 

"Many of these people are _shenzis_, " Mali-ya-bwana pursued his ownthought. 

"That is true, " Kingozi acknowledged. "If this is a sportsman, from whatpart did he hail to have got together this lot! We will see. "

As the swinging hammock came opposite his concealment, Kingozi steppedforward. 

Every one in sight looked in his direction, but none showed anyastonishment at this apparition out of the wilderness. The sophisticatedAfrican has ceased to be surprised at anything a white man may do. If hecan make fire by rubbing a tiny stick _once_, why should he not doanything under heaven he wants to? A locomotive, an automobile, a flyingmachine are miracles, but no less--and no greater--than ordinary matches. Once admit the ability to transcend natural laws, once admit thepossibility of miracles, why be surprised at anything? If a white manchose to appear thus in an unknown country, why not? If he chose again tovanish into thin air, again why not? Only the fierce-looking savagecarrying the rifle rolled his eyes uneasily. 

But at this precise moment a diversion on the opposite side of the lineattracted attention enough. A galvanic shiver ran down the string ofporters, succeeded at once by a crashing of loads cast hastily to theground. With unanimity the bearers swarmed across the little open spacetoward and to either side of Kingozi and his attendant. Reaching thefringe of flat-topped trees they sprang into the low branches, heedless ofthe long thorns, and scrambled aloft until at least partially concealed. Afew of the bolder members lurked behind the trunks, but held themselvesready for an instant ascent. From a hundred throats arose a confused cryof "_Faru! Faru!_"

Not joining this first flight remained only the _askaris_, the eight menbearing the hammock, and the tall Nubian. Of these the _askaris_ were farahead and to the rear; the hammock bearers were decidedly panicky; onlythe Nubian seemed cool and self-possessed. The occupant of the hammockthrust out a foot to descend. 

But before this could be accomplished a rhinoceros burst fully into viewacross the open space. His tail was up, he was snorting loudly, and heheaded straight for the hammock. That was large, moving, and directly inhis line of vision. The sight was too much for the bearers. With a howlthey dropped the pole and streaked it to join their brothers in the thorntrees. The pole and the canopy of the hammock tangled inextricably itsoccupant. 

A ragged volley from the muskets of the _askaris_ merely seemed to add tothe confusion. With great coolness the Nubian discharged first one barrelthen the other of the heavy rifle he carried. The recoil, catching him ina bad posture, knocked him backward. The bullets kicked up a tremendousdust part way between himself and the charging beast. He was now withoutdefence. Nevertheless he stepped in front of the entangled strugglingfigure on the ground. 

Before the appearance of the rhinoceros into the open Kingozi hadexchanged rifles, and stood at the ready. He was a good hundred yards fromthe hammock. Even in the rush of events he, characteristically, found timefor comments, although they did not in the least interfere with his rapidmovements. 

"Hope they don't wing one another, " he remarked of the _askaris'_ volley. "Rotten shooting! rotten!" as the Nubian stood his ground. At the sametime he pushed forward the safety catch and threw the heavy rifle to hisshoulder. 

A charging rhinoceros--or one rushing near enough a man's direction to bedangerous--is not a difficult problem. Given nerve enough, and barringaccidents--which might happen in a London flat--a man is in no danger. Ifhe opens fire too soon, indeed, he is likely to empty his weapon withoutinflicting a stopping wound, but if he will wait until the beast is withintwenty yards or so, the affair is certain. For this reason: just before arhinoceros closes, he drops his head low in order to bring his long horninto action. If the hunter fires then, over the horn, he will strike thebeast's backbone. The shot can hardly be missed, for the range is veryclose and the outstanding flanges of the vertebrae make a large mark. Theformidable animal goes down like a stone. In country open enough topreclude the deadly close-at-hand surprise rush, where one has no chanceto use his weapon at all, the rhinoceros is not dangerous to one who knowshis business. 

But in this case Kingozi was nearer a hundred and twenty than twenty yardsfrom 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 lighterrifle. These things Kingozi knew perfectly. The muscles under his beardtightened; his gray eyes widened into a glare like that of Simba in sightof game. 

Just before the rhinoceros dropped his head for the toss, the Nubianstepped directly into the line of fire. 

"_Lala!_--lie down!" Kingozi shouted. 

Somehow the whip-snap of authority in his voice reached the Nubian'sconsciousness. He dropped flat, and almost instantly the white man fired. 

At the roar of the great gun the rhinoceros collapsed in mid career, goingdown, as an animal always does under a successful spine shot, completely, without a struggle or even a quiver. 

"That was well shot, master, " said Mali-ya-bwana. 

Kingozi reloaded the rifle and started forward. At the same time theoccupant of the hammock finally emerged from the tangle and came erect. 

CHAPTER V

THE ENCOUNTER

Kingozi saw a tall figure without a coat, dressed in brown shirt, ridingbreeches, and puttees. The Nubian had retrieved a spilled sun helmet evenbefore the stranger had scrambled erect, so the head and face wereinvisible. Kingozi's countenance did not change, but a faint contemptappeared in his eyes. The first impression conveyed by the numbers of thetin boxes and their bearers and escort had been deepened. Why? Because theriding breeches were of that exaggerated cut sometimes actually to be seenoutside tailor's advertisements. They were gathered trimly around aneffeminately slender waist, and then ballooned out to an absurd width, only to contract again skin tight around the knees. 

"_M'buzi!_" grunted Kingozi, applying to the stranger the superlative ofSwahili contempt. He did not know he spoke aloud; for it is not well forone white man to criticise another to a native. But Mali-ya-bwana replied. 

"_Bibi_, " he corrected. 

Kingozi stared. "By Jove, you're right!" he exclaimed in English. "It _is_a woman!" He burst into an unexpected laugh. "It isn't balloon breeches;it's _hips!_" he cried. This correction seemed to him singularly humorous. He approached her, laughing. 

It was evidently an angry woman, to judge by her gestures and thedeprecating attitude of the Nubian. Kingozi surmised that she probably didnot fancy being dumped down incontinently before an angry rhinoceros. After a moment, however, her attitude lost its rigidity, she gesturedtoward the dead monster, evidently commending the savage. He shook hishead and motioned in Kingozi's direction. The woman turned, showing anastonished face. 

Kingozi was now close up. He saw before him a personality. Physically shewas beautiful or not, according as one accepted conventional standards. The dress she wore revealed fully the fact that she had a tall, well-knitfigure of long, full curves; a thoroughly feminine figure in conformation, and yet one that looked competent to transcend the usual feminineincompetencies. So far she measured to a high but customary standard. Buther face was as exotic as an orchid. It was long, narrow, and pale withthree accents to redeem it from what that ordinarily implies--lips of abrilliant carmine, eyes of a deep sea-green, and eyebrows high, arched, clean cut, narrow as though drawn by a camel's-hair brush. Indeed, incivilization no one would have believed them to have been otherwiseproduced. In spite of the awkward sun helmet she carried her headimperiously. 

"If you _will_ 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 countrylike this. You look strong and healthy. Why don't you walk?"

Her crest reared and her nostrils expanded haughtily. For a half-minuteshe stared at him, her sea-green eyes darkening to greater depths. Thisdid not disturb Kingozi in the least: indeed he did not see it. His eyeswere taking in the surroundings. 

The dead rhinoceros lay a scant fifteen paces distant; loads werescattered everywhere; the _askaris_, their ancient muskets reloaded, haddrawn near in curiosity. From the thorn trees across the tiny grassopening porters were descending, very gingerly, and with lamentations. Itis comparatively easy to ascend a thorn tree with the fear of deathsnapping at your heels: to descend in cold blood is another matter. 

"Why don't you do your work!" he addressed the soldiers. "Do you want tocatch _kiboko_?"

The startled _askaris_ scuttled away about their business, which was, atthis 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 menhurried to their positions, their loud laughter stilled, glancingfearfully and furtively over their shoulders, whipped by the baleful glarewith which Kingozi silently battered them. 

[Illustration: "'If you _will_ ride in a hammock, you ought to teach yourmen to shoot, ' was Kingozi's greeting"]

Only when the last man had picked up his load did Kingozi turn again tothe woman. Although her bosom still heaved with emotion, it was asuppressed emotion. He met a face slightly and inscrutably smiling. 

"You take it upon yourself to manage my safari?" she said. "You think Icannot manage my men? It is kind of you. "

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. 

"Your _askaris_ are slack, " said Kingozi briefly. 

"And how of these?" she demanded imperiously, sweeping with an almosttheatrical gesture the miserable-looking group of hammock bearers. 

"They are at fault, " replied Kingozi indifferently, "but after all theyare common porters. You can't expect gun-bearer service or _askari_service from common porters, now can you?"

He looked at her directly, his clear, steady eyes conveying nothing but amild interest in the obvious. In contrast to his detached almostindifferent calm, the woman was an embodiment of emotions. Head erect, redlips compressed, breast heaving, she surveyed him through narrowed lids. 

"So?" she contented herself with saying. 

"It's the nature of the beast to run crazy, " pursued Kingozi tranquilly. "You really can't blame them. "

"Then am I to be thrown down, like a sack, when it pleases them to run?"she demanded tensely. "Really, you are incredible. "

"I should expect it. The real point is that you have no business to ridein a hammock through a rhino country. "

The woman's control slipped a very little. 

"Who are you to teach me my business?"

For the first time Kingozi's careless, candid stare narrowed to a focus. 

"You have not told me what your business is, " he replied with an edge ofintention in his tones. Their glances crossed like rapiers for the flashof an instant. 

She turned to the hammock bearers. 

"Lie down!" she commanded. Then to the impassive Nubian, "The _kiboko!_ Isuppose, " she observed politely to Kingozi, "that you will admit these menshould be punished, and that you will permit me to do so?"

"Surely they should be punished; that goes without saying. "

"Give them thirty apiece, " she ordered the Nubian. 

"That is too many, " interposed Kingozi. "Six is a great plenty for suchpeople. It is their nature to run away. "

"Thirty, " she repeated to the Nubian, without a glance in the white man'sdirection. 

The huge negro produced the rhinoceros-hide whip, and went to his task. Tolay thirty lashes on sixteen backs and to do justice to the occasion is agreat task. The Nubian's face streamed sweat when he had finished. Thebearers, who had taken the punishment in silence, arose, saluted, andbegun to skylark among themselves, which was their way of working offemotion. 

"_Askaris!_" summoned the woman. 

They came trotting. 

"Lay down your guns! Lie down!"

A mild wonder appeared in Kingozi's gray eyes. 

"Do you _kiboko_ your _askaris?_" he asked. 

She jerked her head in his direction. 

"Do you presume to question my actions?"

"By no means; I am interested in methods. "

She paid him no more attention. Kingozi waited patiently until this secondbout of punishment was over. The _askaris_ lay quietly face down untiltheir mistress gave the word, then leaped to their feet, saluted smartly, seized their guns, and marched jauntily to their appointed positions. Thewoman watched them for a moment, and turned back to Kingozi. 

Her mood had completely changed. The orgy of punishment had cleared awaythe nervous effects of the fright she had undergone. 

"So; that is done, " she said. "I have travelled much in Africa. I what youcall know my way about. See how my men fall into line. It will be so atcamp. _Presto!_ Quick! The tents will be up, the fires made. "

Her lips smiled at him, but her sea-green eyes remained steady andinscrutable. 

"They seem smart enough, " acknowledged Kingozi without interest. "Have youever tried them out?"

"Tried them out?" she repeated. "I do not understand. "

"You never know what hold you really have until you get in a tight place. "

"And if I get in a 'tight place, '" she rejoined haughtily, "I shall getout again--without help from negroes--or anybody. "

"Quite so, " conceded Kingozi equably. His attitude and the tone of hisvoice were indifferent, but the merest flicker of the tail of his eyetouched the dead rhino. His expression remained quite bland. She saw this. The pallor of her cheek did not warm, but her strangely expressive eyeschanged. 

"_Bandika!_" she cried sharply. The men began to take up their loads. 

"I will wish you a good afternoon, " observed Kingozi as though taking hisleave from an afternoon tea. "By the way, do you happen to care forinformation about the next water, or do you know all that?" "Thank you, Iknow all that, " she replied curtly. 

The _askaris_ began to shout the order for the advance, "_Nenda! nenda!_"the men to swing forward. Kingozi stared after them, watching with aprofessional eye the way they walked, the make-up of their loads, thenature of their equipment; marking the lame ones, or the weak ones, or theones recently sick. His eye fell on the figure of the strange woman. Shewas striding along easily, the hammock deserted, with a free swing of thehips, an easy, slouch of the relaxed knees that indicated the accustomedwalker. Kingozi smiled. 

"'I know all that, '" he repeated. "Now I wonder if you do, or if some ideaof 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. 

"There is good meat; tell the men they can come out to get what they wishof it. There will be lions here to-night. "

"Yes, _bwana_. "

"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 thenext water. But how? Why?"

He shifted his rifle to the crook of his arm. 

"That _bibi_ is a great _memsahib_, " he told Mali-ya-bwana. "And thisevening we will go to see her. Be you ready to go also. "

CHAPTER VI

THE LEOPARD WOMAN

In the early darkness of equatorial Africa Kingozi, accompanied by Mali-ya-bwana with a lantern, crossed over to the other camp. Simba and CaziMoto had come in almost at dusk; but they were very tired, and Kingoziconsidered it advisable to let them rest. They had covered probablythirty-five miles. Cazi Moto had found no water, and no traces of water. Furthermore, the game had thinned and disappeared. Only old tracks, oldtrails, old signs indicated that after the Big Rains the country might behabitable for the beasts. But Simba had discovered a concealed "tank" in akopje. He had worked his way to it by "lining" the straight swift flightof green pigeons, as a bee hunter on the plains used to line the flight ofbees. The tank proved to be a deep, hidden recess far back underoverhanging rocks, at once concealed and protected from the sun andanimals. Its water was sweet and abundant. 

"No one has used that water. It is an unknown water, " concluded Simba. 

"How far?"

"Four hours. "

"_Vema_. " Kingozi bestowed on him the word of highest praise. 

The stranger woman's camp was not far away; in fact, but just across thelittle dry stream-bed. Her safari was using the same pool with Kingozi's. 

At the edge of the camp he paused to take in its disposition. From onedetail to another his eye wandered, and in it dawned a growing approval. Your native, left to his own devices, pitches his little tents haphazardhere, there, and everywhere, according as his fancy turns to this or thatbush, thicket, or clump of grass. Such a camp straggles abominably. Buthere was no such confusion. Back from the water-hole a hundred yards, atopa slight rise, and under the thickest of the trees, stood a large greentent with a projecting fly. A huge pile of firewood had been dumped downin front of it, and at that very moment one of the _askaris_, kneeling, was kindling a fire. Behind the big tent, and at some remove, gleamed thecircle of porters' tents each with its little blaze. Loads were piledneatly, covered with a tarpaulin, and the pile guarded by an _askari_. 

Kingozi strode across the intervening space. 

Before the big tent a table had been placed, and beside the table areclining canvas chair of the folding variety. On a spread of figured bluecloth stood a bottle of lime juice, a sparklets, and an enamelware bowlcontaining flowers. The strange woman was stretched luxuriously in thechair smoking a cigarette. 

She wore a short-sleeved lilac tea gown of thin silk, lilac silkstockings, and high-heeled slippers. Her hair fell in two long braids overher shoulders and between her breasts, which the thin silk defined. Herfigure in the long chair fell into sinuous, graceful, relaxed lines. As heapproached she looked at him over the glowing cigarette; and her eyesseemed to nicker with a strange restlessness. This contrast--of therestless eyes and the relaxed, graceful body--reminded Kingozi ofsomething. His mind groped for a moment; then he had it. 

"_Bibi ya chui!_" he said, half to himself, half to his companion, "TheLeopard Woman!"

And, parenthetically, from that moment _Bibi-ya-chui_--the Leopard Woman--was the name by which she was known among the children of the sun. 

She did not greet him in any way, but turned her head to address commands. 

"Bring a chair for the _bwana_; bring cigarettes; bring _balauri--lime juice_----"

Kingozi found himself established comfortably. 

She moved her whole body slightly sidewise, the better to face him. Thesoft silk fell in new lines about her, defining new curves. Her red lipssmiled softly, and her eyes were dark and inscrutable. 

"I was what you call horrid to-day, " she said. "It was not me: it was thefrightenedness from the rhinoceros. I was very much frightened, so I hadthe porters beaten. That was horrid, was it not? Do you understand it? Isuppose not. Men have no nerves, like women. They are brave always. I havenot said what I feel. I have heard of you--the most wonderful shot inCentral Africa. I believe it--now. "

Kingozi's eyes were lingering on her silk-clad form, the peep of anklesbelow her robe. She observed him with slanted eyes, and a little breath ofsatisfaction raised her bosom. Abruptly he spoke. 

"Aren't you afraid of fever mosquitoes in that rig?" said he. 

Her body stirred convulsively, and her finely pencilled eyebrows, withtheir perpetual air of surprise, moved with impatience; but her voiceanswered him equably:

"My friend, at the close of the hard day I must have my comfort. There canbe no fever here, for there are no people here. When in the fever countryI have my 'rig'"--subtly she shaded the word--"just the same. But I have anet--a big net--like a tent beneath which I sit. Does that satisfy you?"

She spoke with the obvious painstaking patience that one uses to instructa child, but with a veiled irony meant for an older intelligence. 

Kingozi laughed. 

"I do appear to catechize you, don't I? But I am interested. It isdifficult to realize that a woman alone can understand this kind oftravel. "

He had thrown off his guarded abstraction, and smiled across at her asfrankly 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 ofhis bushy beard he looked a boy. The woman stared at him, her cigarettesuspended. 

"You have instructed me about my camp; you have instructed me about mymen; you have instructed me about my marching; you have even instructed meabout my clothes. " She tallied the counts on her slender fingers. "Now Imust instruct you. "

"Guilty, I am afraid, " he smiled; "but ready to take punishment. "

"Very well. " With a sinuous movement she turned on her elbow to face him. "Listen! It is this: you should not wear that beard. "

She fell back, and raised the cigarette to her lips. 

For a moment Kingozi stared at her speechless with surprise; butimmediately recovered. 

"I shall give to your advice the same respectful consideration you accordmine, " he assured her gravely. 

She laughed in genuine amusement. 

"Only I have more excuse, " continued Kingozi. "A woman--alone--so faraway----"

"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?"

She turned on him a wide-eyed stare. Kingozi chuckled. 

"That's it. What in--in hell _are_ you doing up here?"

"Listen, my friend. In this world I do what I please--always. And when Ifind that which people tell me cannot be done, that I do--at once. My lifeis full of those things which could not be done, but which I have done. "

"I believe you, " said Kingozi, but he said it to himself. 

"I have done them at home--where I live. I have done them in the citiesand courts. Whatever the people tell me is impossible--'Oh, it cannot bedone!'--with the uplifted hand and eye--you understand--that I do. Fouryears ago I came to Africa, and in Africa I have done what they tell mewomen 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 isthis place where there is no track?' And they wave their hands, and say'Over yonder'; so I come!"

She recited all this dramatically, using her hands much in gesticulation, her eyes flashing. In proportion as she became animated Kingozi withdrewinto his customary stolid calm. 

"Quite so, " he commented, "spirit of adventure, and all that sort ofthing. Where did you get this lot?"

"What?"

He waved his hand. 

"Your men. "

She considered him a barely appreciable instant. 

"Why--the usual way--from the coast. "

"They are strange to me--I do not recognize their tribes, " Kingozi repliedblandly. "So you are pushing out into the Unknown. How far do you considergoing?"

"Until it pleases me to stop. "

Kingozi produced his pipe. 

"If you do not mind?" he requested. He deliberately filled and lighted it. After a few strong puffs he resumed:

"The country, you say, is unknown to you. "

"Of course. "

"I imagined you told me this afternoon that you knew of this water. I musthave been mistaken. "

He blew a cloud, gazing straight ahead of him in obviously assumedinnocence. She examined him with a narrow, sidelong glance. 

"No, " she said at last, "you were not mistaken. I did tell you so. "

"Well?" Kingozi turned to her. 

"I was very angry, so I lied, " she replied naively. "Women always lie whenthey get very angry. "

"Or tell the truth--uncomfortably, " grinned Kingozi. 

"Brava!" she applauded. "He does know something about women!" With one ofher sudden smooth movements she again raised herself on her elbow. "Howmuch?" she challenged. 

"Enough, " he replied enigmatically. 

They both laughed. 

Across the accustomed night noises came a long rumbling snarl endingsharply with a snoring gasp. It was succeeded by another on a differentkey. The two took up a kind of antiphony, one against the other, nowrising in volume, now dying down to a low grumble, again suddenly burstinglike an explosion. 

"The lions have found that rhino, " remarked Kingozi indifferently. 

For a moment or so they listened to the distant thunders. 

"I have not sufficiently thanked you even yet for this afternoon, " shesaid. "You saved my life--you know that. "

"Happened to be there; and let off a rifle. "

"I know shooting. It was a wonderful shot at that distance and in thosecircumstances. "

"Chancy shot. Had good luck, " replied Kingozi shortly. 

Undeterred by his tone, she persisted. 

"But you are said by many to be the best shot in Africa. "

He glanced at her. 

"Indeed! I think that a mistake. For whom do you take me?"

"You are Culbertson, " she told him. She pronounced the name slowly, syllable by syllable, as though English proper names were difficult toher. 

He laughed. 

"Whoever he may be. I am known as Kingozi hereabouts. "

"You are not Cul-bert-son?"

"I am anything it pleases you to have me. And who are you?"

She had become the spoiled darling, pouting at him in half-pretendedvexation. 

"You are playing with me. For that I shall not tell you who I am. "

"It does not matter; I know. "

"You know! But how?"

"I know many things. "

"What is it then? Tell me!"

He hesitated, smiling at her inscrutably. The flames from the fire wereleaping high now, throwing the lantern-light into eclipse. An _askari_, wearing on his head an individual fancy in marabout feathers, leaned onhis musket, his strong bronze face cast into the wistful lines of thesavage countenance in repose. The lions had evidently compounded theirquarrel. Only an occasional rasping cough testified to their presence. Butin the direction of the dead rhinoceros the air was hideous with theplaints of the waiting hyenas. Their peculiarly weird moans came inchorus; and every once in a while arose the shrill, prolonged titter thathas earned them the name of "laughing hyena. "

"_Bibi-ya-chui_, " he told her at length. 

She considered this, her red lower lip caught between her teeth. 

"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!" Shelaughed. "I think I like it, " she decided. 

"Now we know all about each other, " he mocked. 

"But no: you have asked many questions, which is your habit, but I haveasked few. What do you do in this strange land? Is it--what-you-call--'spirit of adventure' also?"

"Not I! I am an ivory hunter. "

"You expect to find the elephant here?"

"Who knows--or ivory to trade. "

"And then you get your ivory and make the magic pass, and presto! it is inMombasa, " she said, with a faint sarcasm. 

"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 _shenzis_from the people roundabout to act as porters, " he explained to hergravely. 

Apparently she hesitated, in two minds as to what next to say. Kingoziperceived a dancing temptation sternly repressed, and smiled beneath hisbeard. 

"I see, " she said finally in a meek voice. 

But Kingozi knew of what she was thinking. "She is a keen one, " hereflected admiringly. "Caught the weak point in that yarn straight off!"

He arose to his feet, knocking the ashes from his pipe. 

"You travel to-morrow?" he asked politely. 

"That I have not decided. "

"This is a dry country, " Kingozi suggested blandly. "Of course you willnot risk a blind push with so many men. You will probably send out scoutsto find the next water. "

"That is possible, " she replied gravely; but Kingozi thought to catch atwinkle in her eye. 

He raised his voice:

"Boy!"

Mali-ya-bwana glided from one of the small porters' tents. 

"_Qua heri_. " Kingozi abruptly wished her farewell in Swahili. 

"_Qua heri_, " she replied without moving. 

He turned into the darkness. The tropical stars blazed above him likecandles. Kingozi lapsed into half-forgotten slang. 

"Downy bird!" he reflected, which was probably not exactly the impressionthe Leopard Woman either intended or thought she had made. 

CHAPTER VII

THE WATER-HOLE

A seasoned African traveller in ordinary circumstances sleeps verysoundly, his ear attuned only to certain things. So Kingozi hardly stirredon his cork mattress, although the lions roared full-voiced satisfactionwhen they left the rhinoceros, and the yells of the hyenas rose to apandemonium when at last they were permitted to join the feast. Likewisethe nearer familiar noises of men rising to their daily tasks at fouro'clock--the yawning, stretching, cracking of firewood, crackling of fire, low-voiced chatter--did not disturb him. Yet, so strangely is the humanmind organized, had during the night a soft whisper of padded feet, eventhe deep breathing of a beast, sounded within the precincts of the camp, he would instantly have been broad awake, the rifle that stood loadednearby clasped in his hand. Thus he lay quietly through the noises of menworking, but came awake at the sound of men marching. He arose on hiselbow and drew aside the flap of his tent. 

At the same instant Cazi Moto stopped outside. The usual formula ensued. 

"_Hodie!_" called Cazi Moto. 

"_Karibu_, " replied Kingozi. 

Thus Cazi Moto at once awakened and greeted his master, and Kingoziacknowledged. 

Cazi Moto entered the tent and lighted the tiny lantern, for it was stillan hour and a half until daylight. 

"I hear men marching, " said Kingozi. 

Cazi Moto stopped. 

"It is the safari of Bibi-ya-chui. " Already Kingozi's nickname for herhad been adopted. 

Cazi Moto disappeared, and a moment later was heard outside pouring waterinto the canvas basin. 

Instead of arising immediately, as was his ordinary custom, Kingozi laystill. 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 thatrhinoceros. And again she was taking chances pushing out blindly withover a hundred men into the aridity of the desert. Kingozi contemplatedthis thought for some time. Then, making up his mind, he arose and beganto dress. 

As he was drying his face Simba came for the guns, and a half-dozen of theporters prepared to strike and furl the tent. Already the canvaswashstand had disappeared. 

"Simba, " observed Kingozi in English, of which language Simba knew butthree 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 hardto make it, and that's why she's making so early a start. I had a notionthis 'country of the great Unknown' wasn't quite so 'unknown' as it mightbe. "

He finished this speech coincidentally with the drying of his hands. Theimpatient Cazi Moto snatched the towel deftly but respectfully and packedit away. Simba, who had listened with deference until his _bwana_ shouldfinish this jargon, grinned. 

"Yes, suh!" he used two of his English words at a bang. 

Kingozi ate his breakfast by firelight. With the exception of his campchair and the eating service, the camp was by now all packed, and the menwere squatting before their fires waiting. 

But there was a hitch. Kingozi called up Simba and began to question him. 

"You say the water is four hours' march?"

"Yes, _bwana_. "

"Four hours for you, or four hours for laden men?"

"The safari can go in four hours, _bwana_. "

"Is there game there?"

"No, _bwana_. It is a guarded water, and there is no game. "

Kingozi considered. 

"Very well. I want six men. Before the march we must get meat. "

Some time since the flames of the African sunrise had spread to thezenith, glowing and terrible as a furnace. Although the sky was thusbrilliantly illuminated, the earth, strangely enough, was still gray withtwilight. Objects fifty yards distant were indeterminate. Objectsfarther away were lost. The light was daylight, but it was inadequate, asthough charged with mist. 

And then suddenly the daylight was clear. 

It was like the turning on by a switch. The dim shapes defined clearly, becoming trees, rocks, distant hills. And almost immediately the rim ofthe sun showed above the horizon. 

Kingozi had already decided on the best direction in which to hunt. Neither the direction taken by the Leopard Woman's safari nor theimmediate surroundings of the night's orgy over the rhino carcass wasdesirable. The fact that the big water-hole below camp had not onlyremained unvisited, but apparently even desired, led him to deduce theexistence of another, alternative, drinking place. He had yesterdayexplored some distance downstream; therefore he now turned up. 

Simba with the big rifle followed close at his heels. The six portersstole along fifty yards in the rear. They were quite as anxious for meat--promptly--as anybody, and were as unobtrusive as shadows. 

For upward of a mile the hunters encountered nothing but a few dik-dik andsteinbuck--tiny grass antelope, too small for the purpose. Then a shiftof wind brought to them a medley of sound--a great persistent barking ofzebras supplying the main volume. At the same time they saw, over adistant slight rise, a cloud of dust. 

Simba's eyes were gleaming. 

"Game! Much game there, _bwana!_" he cried. 

"I see, " replied Kingozi quietly. 

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. 

Below them, probably three hundred yards away, was a larger replica of theother water-hole. At its edge and in its shallows stood a few beasts. Butthe sun was now well above the horizon, the drinking time was practicallyover. 

Three long strings of game animals were walking leisurely away in threedifferent directions. They were proceeding soberly, in single file, noseto tail. The ranks ran with scarcely a break, to disappear over the lowswells of the plain. Alongside the plodders skipped and ran, rushed backand 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, eachin its little companies or bands, many times repeated, of from two orthree to several score; although occasionally strange assortments andcompanionships were to be seen, as a black, shaggy-looking wildebeestewith a troop of kongoni. Kingozi saw, besides these two, also the biggerand smaller gazelles, many zebra, topi, the lordly eland; and, apart, adozen giraffes, two rhinoceros, and some warthogs. There were probably twothousand wild animals in sight. 

The hunters lay flat, watching. This multiplicity afforded them awonderful spectacle, but that was about all. If they should crawl threeyards farther they would indubitably be espied by some one. It wasimpossible to single out a beast as the object of a stalk: all the othersmust be considered, too. There was no cover. 

Kingozi was too old at the business to hurry. He considered the elementsof his problem soberly before coming back to his first and most obviousconclusion. Then he raised himself slowly to his favourite sittingposition and threw off the safety. 

The distance was a fair three hundred yards, which is a long shot--when it_is_ three hundred yards. The fireside and sporting magazine hunters ofbig game are constantly hitting 'em through the heart at even greaterdistances--estimated. It is actually a fact, proven many times, that thoseestimates should be divided by two in order to get near the measuredtruth! The "four hundred yards if it's an inch!" becomes two hundred--andeven two hundred yards at living game in natural surroundings is a longand creditable shot. 

In taking his aim Kingozi modified his usual custom because of thedistance. When one can get his beast broadside on, the most immediatelyfatal shot is one high in the shoulder, about three-quarters of the wayup. That drops an animal dead in his tracks. The next best is a bulletlow in the shoulder. Third is a really accurate heart shot. This latteris always fatal, of course; but ordinarily the quarry will run at racingspeed for some little distance before falling dead. In certain types ofcountry this means considerable tracking, may even mean the loss of theanimal. Next comes anywhere in the barrel forward of the short ribs--achancy proceeding, and one leading to long chases. After that thelikelihood of a cripple is too great. 

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 onecan 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, grazingbrisket, or missing entirely under the neck. The heart shot--or rather anattempt at it--is safer for a longer range, not because the mark islarger, but because even if one misses the heart, he is apt to land eitherthe shoulder or the ribs well forward. The only miss is beneath, and thatis clear, as the heart is low in the body. And at extreme ranges, theforward one-third of the barrel is the point of aim. It should onlyrarely be attempted. Unless a man is certain he can hit that mark, _everytime_, he is not justified in taking the shot. 

This principle applies to every one: as well to the beginner as to theexpert. The only difference between the two is the range at which thiscertainty exists. The tyro's limit of absolute certainty for the heartshot may be--and probably is--a hundred yards; for the high shoulder itmay be as near as thirty. This takes into consideration his inexperiencein the presence of game as well as his inaccuracy with the rifle, and itkeeps in mind that he must hit that mark not merely nine times out of ten, but _every time_. If he cannot get within the hundred yards by stalking, then he should refuse the chance. As expertness rises in the scale thedistances increase. Provided there were no such things as nerves, luck, faulty judgment, and the estimate of distances one man should be asmercifully deadly as another. Naturally the man who had to stalk to withina hundred yards would not get as many shots as the one who could take hischance at two hundred. This conduct of venery is an ideal that is onlyapproximated. Hence misses. 

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 mustbe able to estimate distance with some degree of accuracy. It availslittle to know that you can hit a given mark at two hundred and fiftyyards, if you do not know what two hundred and fifty yards is. And hereenter a thousand deceits: direction of light, slope of ground, nature ofcover, temperature, mirage, time of day, and the like. An apparent hundredyards over water or across a cañon would--were, by some dissolving-view-change, bush-dotted plain to be substituted--become nearer three hundredin the latter circumstances. There is a limit to the best man'sexperience; a margin of error in the best man's judgment. Hence moremisses. 

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 sightover his rifle at a wild animal, noting carefully the apparent relativesize of the front sight-bead and the animal's body. He should then pacethe distance between himself and that animal. After he has done this ahundred times, he will be able to make a pretty close guess by marking howlarge the beast shows up through the sights. That is, for that one speciesof game! In Central Africa, where in a well-stocked district there arefrom twenty to thirty species, the practice becomes more onerous. Thissame practice--of pacing the distances--however, has also trained a man'seye for country. He is able to supplement the front-sight method by theusual estimate by eye. Most men do not take this trouble. They practise attarget range until they can hit the bull's-eye with fair regularity, misswith nearly equal regularity in the hunting field, and thenceforth talkvaguely of "missed him at five hundred yards. " It must have been fivehundred. The beast looked very small, there was an awful lot of countrybetween him and it, and "I wasn't a bit rattled--cool as a cucumber--and I_know_ I never miss an object of that size at any reasonable range. " Hewas 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. Itwas exactly the range at which he had done the most of his practice--twohundred yards!

All these considerations have taken several pages to tell. Kingozi weighedeach one of them. Yet so long had been his experience, so habitual hadbecome his reactions, that his decision was made almost instantly. Aglance at the intervening ground, another through his sights. The top ofthe bead covered half a zebra's shoulder. The distance was not far underor over three hundred. Kingozi knew that, barring sheer accident, he couldhit his mark at that distance. 

The animals meantime were moving forward slowly along the three divergingtrails. 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. 

The apparition of this strange figure on the skyline brought a score ofanimals to a stand. They turned their heads, staring intently, making uptheir minds, their nostrils wide. Kingozi, who had already picked hisbeast and partially assured his aim, almost immediately squeezed thetrigger. 

Over a second after the flat crack of the rifle a hollow _plunk_ indicatedthat the bullet had told. It was a strange sound, unmistakable to one whohas once heard it, much as though one brought a drinking glass smartly, hollow down, into the surface of water. 

[Illustration: "After the flat crack of the rifle a hollow _plunk_indicated that the bullet had told"]

"Hah!" ejaculated Simba. 

"Where?" asked Kingozi, who knew by long experience that Simba's sharpeyes had noted the smallest particular of the beast's behaviour when thebullet landed, and thence had already deduced its location. 

Without removing his eyes, Simba indicated with his forefinger a shotabout midway of the ribs. 

At the sound the rear guard of the animals raced madly away for aboutseventy yards, whirled in a phalanx, and gazed back. Neither man moved. Simba continued to stare, and Kingozi had lifted his prism glasses. A tyrowould have attempted to draw near for a finishing shot, and so wouldprobably have been let in for a long chase. A freshly wounded animal, ifkept moving, is capable of astonishing endurance. But these two knewbetter than that. In a very few minutes the zebra, without fright, withoutsuffering--for a modern bullet benumbs--toppled over dead. Again Simbaraised his voice exultantly to the waiting porters. 

"_Nyama! nyama!_" he shouted. 

And they, racing eagerly forward, their faces illuminated with one of thestrongest joys the native knows, shouted back:

"_Nyama! nyama!_"

For another two days the provisioning was assured. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE THIRST

The little safari made the distance to Simba's guarded water in a trifleover the four hours. Camp was made high up on the kopje whence the eyecould carry to immense distances. The wall of mountains was now nearer. Through his glasses Kingozi could distinguish rounded foothills. He triedto make out whether certain dark patches were groves or patches of bush--they might have been either--but was unable to determine. Relative sizesdid not exist. The mountains might be five thousand feet tall or only afifth of that. And by exactly that proportion they might be a day's or afive days' journey distant!

Carefully Kingozi examined the length of the range. At length hisattention was arrested. A thread of smoke, barely distinguishable againstthe gray of distance, rose within the shadow of the hills. 

"Simba!" Kingozi summoned. Then, on the gun bearer's approach: "Lookthrough the glasses and tell me whether that smoke is a house or a fire inthe grass. "

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 twominutes he stared through the lenses. 

"It is a house, _bwana_, " he decided. 

As though the words had been a magic spell the mountains seemed inKingozi's imagination to diminish in size and to move forward. They hadassured a definite proportion, a definite position. Their distance couldbe estimated. 

"And how far?" he asked. 

"Very far, _bwana_, " replied Simba gravely, "eleven hours; twelve hours. "

Kingozi reflected. The safari of the Leopard Woman had passed the kopjenot over a mile away; indeed Kingozi had left her trail only a shortdistance back. On the supposition that she was well informed, it seemedunlikely that she could expect to make the whole distance from the lastcamp to the mountains in one march. Therefore there must be another waterbetween. In that case, if Kingozi followed her tracks, he would arrive atthat water. On the other supposition--that she was striking recklesslyinto the unknown--well, all the more reason for following her tracks!

They commenced their journey before daylight the following morning. Eachman was instructed to fill his water bottle; and the instructions wererigidly enforced. In the darkness they stumbled down the gentle slopes ofthe kopjes, each steering by the man ahead, and Kingozi steering by thestars. The veldt was still, as though all the silences, driven from thoseportions inhabited by the beasts, had here made their refuge. The earthlay like a black pool becalmed. Overhead the stars blazed clearly, slowlyfaded, and gave way to the dawn. The men spoke rarely, and then in lowvoices. 

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 withinsignificant landmarks. The mountains ahead seemed no nearer. 

At the end of three hours, by the watch Kingozi carried on his wrist, hecalled the first halt. The men laid down their loads, and sprawled aboutin abandon. Kingozi produced a pipe. 

The rest lasted a full half hour. Then two hours more of marching, andanother rest. By now a normal day's march would be about over. But thiswas different. Kingozi rigidly adhered to the plan for all forced marchesof 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. 

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 weakerbegin 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 ofunits, each with his own problem of weariness, of thirst, finally ofsuffering. More and more stretches the distance between the _bwana_ andhis headman. 

No native of the porter intelligence has the slightest forethought for themorrow, and very little for the day. If it is hot and he has startedearly, his water bottle is empty by noon. 

This wise program Kingozi entered upon carefully. The three hours' marchwent well; the two hours followed with every one strong and cheerful; thentwo hours more without trouble. Kingozi's men were picked, and hard asnails. By now it was one o'clock; coming the hottest part of the day. Thepower of the vertical sun attained its maximum. Kingozi felt as though aheavy hand had been laid upon his head and was pressing him down. Themirage danced and changed, its illusions succeeding one another momentlyas the successive veils of heat waves shimmered upward. Reflected heatscorched his face. His spirit retired far into its fastness, taking withit all his energies. From that withdrawn inner remoteness he doled out thenecessary vitality parsimoniously, drop by drop. Deliberately he withdrewhis attention from the unessentials. Not a glance did he vouchsafe to theprospect far or near; not a thought did he permit himself of speculationor 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 wouldhave 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. 

At the rest periods Kingozi sat down on the ground. Then in the relaxationhis intelligence emerged. He took stock of the situation. 

Mali-ya-bwana and nine others were always directly at his heels. Theydropped their loads and grinned cheerfully at their _bwana_, their bronzefaces gleaming as though polished. If only they were all like this! Thenperhaps five minutes later a smaller group came in, strongly enough. Thefirst squad shouted ridiculing little jokes at them; and they shriekedback spirited repartee, whacking their loads vigorously with their safaristicks. These, too, would cause no anxiety. But then Kingozi sat up andbegan to take notice. The men drifted in by twos and threes. Kingoziscrutinized them closely, trying to determine the state of their strengthand the state of their spirit. And after twenty minutes, or even the fullhalf hour allotted to the rest period, Cazi Moto came in driving beforehim seven men. 

The wizened little headman was as cheerful and lively and vigorous asever. He, too, grinned, but his eyes held a faint anxiety, and he hadshifted his closed umbrella to his left hand and held the _kiboko_ in hisright. 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 aresumption of the march. 

But the mountains had moved near. When this had happened Kingozi could nothave told. It was between two rest periods. From an immense discouragingdistance, they towered imminent. It seemed that a half-hour's easy walkshould take them to the foothills. Yet not a man there but knew that thisnearness was exactly as deceitful as the distance had been before. 

The afternoon wore on. Kingozi's canteen was all but empty, though he haddrunk sparingly, a swallow at a time. His tongue was slightly swollen. Thesun had him to a certain extent; so that, although he could rouse himselfat will, nevertheless, he moved mechanically in a sort of daze. 

He heard Simba's voice; and brought himself into focus. 

The gun bearer was staring at something on the ground. Kingozi followedthe direction of his gaze. Before him lay a dead man. 

It was one of the common porters--a tall, too slender savage, with armletsof polished iron, long, ropy hair--a typical _shenzi_. His load wasmissing: evidently one of the _askaris_ had taken it up. 

Kingozi's safari filed by, each man gazing in turn without expression atthe huddled heap. Only Maulo, the camp jester, hurled a facetious commentat the corpse. Thereupon all the rest laughed after the strange, heartlesscustom of the African native. Or is it heartless? We do not know. 

The day's march had passed through the phase of coordinated action. It wasnow the duty of each man to get in if he could. It was Kingozi's duty toarrive first, and to arrange succour for Cazi Moto and those whom hedrove. 

Twenty minutes beyond the dead man they came upon three porters sitting bythe wayside. They were men in the last extremity of thirst and exhaustion, their eyes wide and vacant, their tongues so swollen that their teeth wereheld apart. Nothing was to be done here, so Kingozi marched by. 

Then he came upon a half-dozen bags of _potio_. They were thrown downpellmell, anyhow; so that Kingozi concluded they had been surreptitiouslythrown away, and not temporarily abandoned with intent to return for them. 

After that the trail resembled the traces of a rout. Every few yards nowwere the evidences of desperation: loads of _potio_, garments, waterbottles emptied and cast aside in a gust of passion at their emptiness. Atintervals also they passed more men, gaunt, incredibly cadaverous, considering that only the day before they had been strong and well. Theysat or lay inert, watching the safari pass, their eyes apathetic. Kingozipaid no attention to them, nor to the loads of _potio_, nor to thegarments and accoutrements; but he caused Simba to gather the waterbottles. After a time Simba was hung about on all sides, and resembled ata short distance some queer conical monster. 

Then they topped the bank of a wide shallow dry streambed and saw theremnants of other safari below them. 

The Leopard Woman sat on a tent load. Even at this distance her erectfigure expressed determination and defiance. The Nubian squatted besideher. Men lay scattered all about in attitudes of abandon and exhaustion;yet every face was turned in her direction. 

Kingozi descended the bank and approached, his experienced eye registeringevery significant detail. 

She turned to him a face lowering like a thundercloud, her eyes flashingthe lightnings, her lips scarlet and bitten. Kingozi noted the bloodied_kiboko_. 

"They won't go on!" she cried at him harshly. "I can't make them! It isdeath for them here, but all they will do is to sit down! It is maddening!If they must die----"

She leaped to her feet and drew an automatic pistol. 

"_Bandika!_" she cried. "Take your loads! Quickly!"

She threatened the man nearest her. He merely stared, his expression dullwith the infinite remoteness of savage people. Without further parley shefired. Although the distance was short, she missed, the bullet throwing upa spurt of sand beneath the man's armpit. He did not stir, nor did hisface change. 

Kingozi's bent form had straightened. An authority, heretofore latent, flashed from his whole personality. 

"Stop!" he commanded. 

She turned toward him a look of convulsed rage. Then suddenly herresistance to circumstances broke. She hurled the automatic pistol at theporter, and flopped down on the tent load, hiding her face in her hands. 

Kingozi paid her no further attention. 

"Simba!" he called. 

"Yes, suh!"

"Take one man. Collect all water bottles. Take a lantern. Go as rapidlyas 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. Getthem to help you carry back the water bottles. "

Simba selected Mali-ya-bwana to accompany him, but this did not meetKingozi's ideas. 

"I want that man, " said he. 

Simba and one of the other leading porters started away. Kingozi gave hisattention to the members of the other safari. 

They sat and sprawled in all attitudes. But one thing was common to all:a dead sullenness. 

"Why do you not obey the _memsahib?_" Kingozi asked in a reasonable tone. 

No one answered for some time. Finally the man who had been shot atreplied. 

"There is no water. We are very tired. We cannot go on without water. "

"How can you get water if you do not go on?"

"_Hapana shauri yangu_, " replied the man indifferently, uttering thefatalistic phrase that rises to the lips of the savage African almostautomatically, unless his personal loyalty has been won--"that is not myaffair. " He brooded on the ground for a space then looked up. "It is thebusiness of porters to carry loads; it is the business of the white man totake care of the porters. " And in that he voiced the philosophy of thishuman relation. The porters had done their job: not one inch beyond itwould they go. The white woman had brought them here: it was now her_shauri_ to get them out. 

"You see!" cried the Leopard Woman bitterly. "What can you do with suchidiots!"

Kingozi directed toward her his slow smile. 

"Yes, I see. Do you remember I asked you once when you were boasting yourefficiency, whether you had ever tried your men? Your work was donesmartly and well--better than my work was done. But my men will help me ina fix, and yours will not. "

"You are quite a preacher, " she rejoined. "And you are exasperating. Whydon't you do something?"

"I am going to, " replied Kingozi calmly. 

He called Mali-ya-bwana to him. 

"Talk to these _shenzis_, " said he. 

Mali-ya-bwana talked. His speech was not eloquent, nor did it flatter theLeopard Woman, but it was to the point. 

"My _bwana_ is a great lord, " said he. "He is master of all things. Hefights 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. _Bassi!_"

Immediately this admonition was finished Kingozi issued his first command:

"Bring all loads to this place. "

Nobody stirred at first. 

"My loads, the loads of Bibi-ya-chui--all to this place. "

Mali-ya-bwana and the other fourteen of Kingozi's safari who were nowpresent brought their loads up and began to pile them under Kingozi'sdirection. 

"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. "

The import of the command began to reach the other porters. This white mandid not intend to camp here then--where there was no water! He did notmean to make them march with loads! He knew! He was a great lord, andwise, as Mali-ya-bwana had said! One or two arose wearily and stiffly, anddragged their loads to the pile. Others followed. Kingozi's men helped theweakest. Kingozi himself worked hard, arranging the loads, covering themwith tarpaulins, weighting the edges. 

His intention reached also the Leopard Woman. She watched proceedingswithout comment for some time. Then she saw something that raised herobjection. 

"I shall want that box, " she announced. "Leave that one out. And that ismy tent being brought up now. "

Apparently Kingozi did not hear her. He bestowed the box in a space leftfor it, and piled the two tent loads atop. The Leopard Woman arose andglided to his side. 

"That box----" she began. 

"I heard you, " replied Kingozi politely, "but it will really be impossibleto carry anything at all. "

"That box is indispensable to me, " she insisted haughtily. 

"You have no men strong enough to carry a load: and mine will need all thestrength they have left before they get in. "

He went on arranging the loads under the tarpaulins. 

"Those loads are my tent, " she said, as Kingozi turned away. 

"We cannot take them. "

Her eyes flashed. She whirled with the evident intention of issuing hercommands direct. Kingozi's weary, slow indifference fell from him. In onebound he faced her, his chin thrust forward. His blue eyes had focussedinto a cold, level stare. 

"Don't dare interfere!" he ordered. "If you attempt it, I shall order yourestrained--physically. Understand? I do not know how far you intend totravel--or where; but if you value your future authority and prestige withyour own men, do not make yourself a spectacle before them. "

"You would not dare!" she panted. 

The tenseness relaxed. Kingozi became again the slow-moving, slouching, indifferent figure of his everyday habit. 

"Oh, I can dare almost anything--when I have to. You do not seem tounderstand. You have come a cropper--a bad one. Left to yourselves you areall going to die here. If I am to help you to your feet, I must do itwithout interference. I think we shall get through: but I am not at allcertain. Go and sit down and save your strength. "

"I hate you!" she flashed. "I'd rather die here than accept your help! Icommand you to leave me!"

"Bless you!" said Kingozi, as though this were a new thought. "I wasn'tthinking especially of _you_; I am sorry for your boys. "

Mali-ya-bwana, under his directions, had undone the loads containing thelanterns. Everything seemed now ready for the start. All of Kingozi'ssafari had arrived except Cazi Moto and five men. 

"Have you any water left?" Kingozi asked the Leopard Woman. 

She stared straight ahead of her, refusing to answer. Unperturbed, Kingoziturned to the Nubian. 

"Which is _memsahib's_ canteen?"

The Nubian silently indicated two of the three hung on his person. Kingozishook 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. 

The march was resumed. Mali-ya-bwana was instructed to lead the wayfollowing the scraped places on the earth, the twigs bent over, and thebroken branches by which Simba had marked his route for them. Kingozihimself brought up the rear. Reluctantly, apathetically, the LeopardWoman's men got to their feet. Kingozi was everywhere, urging, encouraging, shaming, joking, threatening, occasionally using the _kiboko_he had taken from one of the _askaris_. At last all were under way. TheLeopard Woman sat still on the load, the Nubian crouched at her back. Thelong, straggling, staggering file of men crawled up the dry bank anddisappeared one by one over the top. Each figure for a moment wassilhouetted against the sky, for the sun was low. Kingozi toiled up thesteep, his head bent forward. In his turn he, too, stood black and massiveon the brink, the outline of his powerful stooped shoulders gold-rimmed inlight. She watched him feverishly, awaiting from him some sign that herealized 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 wasempty of human life. 

She arose. For an instant her face was convulsed with a fairly demoniacfury. Then a mask of blankness obliterated all expression. She followed. 

CHAPTER IX

ON THE PLATEAU

Two hours into the night Kingozi, following in the rear, saw a cluster oflights, and shortly came to a compact group of those who had gone beforehim. They were drinking eagerly from water bottles. Simba, lantern inhand, stood nearby. A number of savages carrying crude torches hoveredaround the outskirts. Kingozi could not make out the details of theirappearance: only their eyeballs shining. He drew Simba to one side. 

"There are many _shenzis_?"

"Many, like the leaves of the grass, _bwana_. "

"The huts are far?"

"One hour, _bwana_, in the hills. "

"These _shenzis_ are good?"--meaning friendly. 

"_Bwana_, the _sultani_ of these people is a great lord. He has manypeople, and much riches. He has told, his people to come with me. Heprepares the guest house for you. "

"Tired, Simba?"

"It has been a long path since sunup, _bwana_. But I had water, and thepeople gave me _potio_ and meat. I am strong. "

"Cazi Moto is back there--in the Thirst, " suggested Kingozi, "and manyothers. And there is no water. "

"I will go, _bwana_, and take the _shenzis_ with me. "

He set about gathering the water bottles and gourds that had not beenemptied. Mali-ya-bwana and, unexpectedly, a big Kavirondo of Kingozi'ssafari, volunteered. The rest prepared to continue the journey. 

But another delay occurred. The Leopard Woman, who had walked indomitably, now collapsed. Her eyes were sunken in her head, her lips had paled; onlythe long white oval of her face recalled her former splendid and exoticbeauty. When the signal to proceed was given, she stepped forward asfirmly as ever for perhaps a dozen paces, then her knees crumpled underher. 

"I'm afraid I'm done, " she muttered to Kingozi. 

In the latter's eyes, for the first time, shone a real and ungrudgingadmiration. 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 waistand tore apart the thin chemise beneath. 

"Water, " he commanded. 

With the wetted end of his neck scarf he beat her vigorously below theleft breast. After a little she opened her eyes. 

"That's better, " said Kingozi, and began clumsily to rebutton her blouse. 

A slow colour rose to her face as she realized in what manner she had beenexposed, and she snatched her garments together. Kingozi, watching herclosely, seemed to see in this only a satisfactory symptom. 

"That's right; now you're about again. Blood going once more. "

They proceeded. A man on either side supported the Leopard Woman's steps. 

Shortly the hills closed around them. The dark velvet masses compassedthem about, and the starry sky seemed suddenly to have been thrust upwarda million miles. The open plain narrowed to a track along which theygroped single file. They caught the sound of running water to their left;but far below. There seemed no end to it. 

But then, unexpectedly, they found themselves on a plateau, with the massof the mountains on one side and the sea of night on the other, as thoughit might be the spacious deck of a ship. A multitude of people swarmedabout them, shining naked people, who stared; and there seemed to be hutswith conical roofs, and a number of little winking fires that shiftedposition. The people led the way to a circular hut of good size, with aconical thatched roof and wattle walls. Kingozi stooped his head, thrusting the lantern inside. The interior had been swept. A huge earthentub full of water stood by the door. The place contained no otherfurnishings. 

"Bring the _memsahib_ here, " he commanded. 

She was half dragged forward. Kingozi took her in his arms to prevent herfalling. 

"Bring grass, " he ordered. 

The request was repeated outside in Swahili, and turned into a strangetongue. Kingozi heard many feet hurrying away. 

He stood supporting the half-fainting form of the Leopard Woman. Her headrested against his shoulder. Her eyes were closed, her muscles had allgone 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 thesingle jewel that hung in the middle of her forehead. Somehow at thismoment she seemed smaller, in her safari costume, and helpless, andpathetic. He felt the curve of her breast against him, and the picture ofher as he had seen her out there in the Thirst arose before his eyes. Atthat time it had not registered: he was too busy about serious things. Butnow, while he waited, the incident claimed, belated, his senses. Hisantagonism, or distrust, or coldness, or suspicion, or indifference, orwhatever had hardened him, disappeared. He stared straight before him atthe lantern, allowing these thoughts and sensations to drift through him. Subconsciously he noted that the lamp flame showed a halo, or rather twohalos, one red and one green. By experience he knew that this portendedone of his stabbing headaches through the eyes. But the thought did nothold him. He contemplated unwaveringly the spectacle of this soft, warm, helpless but indomitable piece of femininity fronting the Africanwilderness unafraid. Unconsciously his arms tightened around her, drawingher to him. She gave no sign. Her form was limp. Apparently she waseither half asleep or in a stupor. But had Kingozi looked down when hetightened his arms, instead of staring at the halo-encircled lantern, hewould have seen her glance sidewise upward into his face, he would havediscerned a fleeting smile upon her lips. 

Almost immediately the people were back with armfuls of the long grassthat grows on the edge of mountainous country. Under Kingozi's directionsthey heaped it at one side. He assisted the Leopard Woman to thisimprovised couch and laid her upon it. She seemed to drop instantlyasleep. 

They brought more grass and piled it in another place. Mali-ya-bwanasuperintended these activities zealously. He had drunk his fill, hadbolted a chunk of goat's flesh one of the savages had handed him, now hewas ready to fulfil his _bwana's_ commands. 

"You will eat?" he asked. 

But Kingozi was not hungry. His strong desire was for a tall _balauri_ ofhot tea, but this could not be. He knew it Was unsafe to drink the waterunboiled--it is unsafe to drink any African water unboiled--but this timeit could not be helped. He was not even very tired, though his eyesburned. There was nothing more to do. Kingozi knew that Simba and CaziMoto would not attempt to come in. 

They now had both food and water, and would camp somewhere out on theplain. 

"I will sleep, " he decided. 

Mali-ya-bwana at once thrust the savages outside, without ceremony, peremptorily. When the _bwana_ of an African belonging to the safari classwants anything, the latter gets it for him. The headman of the author ofthese lines went single handed and stopped in its very inception a royal_n'goma_, or dance, to which men had come a day's journey, merely becausehis _bwana_ wanted to sleep! Kingozi was here alone, in a strange country, for the moment helpless; but Mali-ya-bwana hustled the tribesmen out asbrusquely as though a regiment were at his back. Which undoubtedly had itseffect. 

Kingozi sat down on the straw and blew out his lantern. The wattle wallswere not chinked; so the sweet night wind blew through freely; andelusively he saw stars against the night. The Leopard Woman breathedheavily in little sighs. He was not sleepy. Then everything went black----

When Kingozi awakened it was full daylight. A varied murmur came happilyfrom outside, what the Africans call a _kalele_--a compound of chatter, the noise of occupation, of movement, the inarticulate voice of humanexistence. He glanced across the hut. The Leopard Woman was gone. 

"Boy!" he shouted. 

At the sound of his voice the _kalele_ ceased. Almost immediately CaziMoto stooped to enter the doorway. Cazi Moto was dressed in clean khaki, and bore in his hand a _balauri_ of steaming tea. Kingozi seized this anddrained it to the bottom. 

"That is good, " he commented gratefully. "I did not expect to see you, Cazi Moto. Did all the men get in?"

"Yes, _bwana_. "

"_Vema!_ And the men of the Leopard Woman?"

"Many died, _bwana_; but many are here. "

Kingozi arose to his feet. 

"I must have food. These _shenzis_ eat what?"

"Food is ready, _bwana_. "

"I will eat. Then we must make _shauri_ with these people to get ourloads. My men must rest to-day. "

"Come, _bwana_, " said Cazi Moto. 

Kingozi stooped to pass through the door. When he straightened outside, hepaused in amazement. Before him stood his camp, intact. The green tentwith the fly faced him, the flaps thrown back to show within his cot andtin box. White porters' tents had been pitched in the usual circle, andbefore each squatted men cooking over little fires. The loads, covered bythe tarpaulin, had been arranged in the centre of the circle. At a shortdistance to the rear the cook camp steamed. 

Cazi Moto stood at his elbow grinning. 

"Hot water ready, _bwana_, " said he; and for the first time Kingozinoticed that he carried a towel over his arm. 

"This is good, very good, Cazi Moto!" said he. "_Backsheeshi m'kubwa_ forthis; both for you and for Simba. "

"Thank you, _bwana_, " said Gaza Moto. "Simba brought the water, and itsaved us; and I thought that my _bwana_ should not sleep on grass a secondtime before these _shenzis_. "

"Who carried in the loads? Not our porters?"

"No, _bwana_, the _shenzis_. "

Kingozi glanced at his wrist watch. It was only ten o'clock. "When?"

"Last night. "

"They went back last night?"

"Yes, _bwana_. Mali-ya-bwana considered that it was bad to leave theloads. There might be hyenas--or the _shenzis_----"

Kingozi slapped his thigh with satisfaction. This was a man after his ownheart. 

"Call Mali-ya-bwana, " he ordered. 

The tall Baganda approached. 

"Mali-ya-bwana, " said Kingozi. "You have done well. For this you shallhave _backsheeshi_. But more. You need not again carry a load. You willbe--" he hesitated, trying to invent an office, but reluctant to infringeupon the prerogatives of either Simba or Cazi Moto. "You will be headmanof the porters; and you, Cazi Moto, will be headman of all the safari, andmy own man besides. "

The Baganda drew himself erect, his face shining. Placing his bare heelstogether, he raised his hand in a military salute. Kingozi was about todismiss him, but this arrested his intention. 

"Where did you learn to do that?" he asked sharply. 

"I was once in the King's African Rifles. "[7]

[Footnote 7: Only, of course, Mali-ya-bwana gave the native name for thesetroops. ]

"You can shoot, then?"

"Yes, _bwana_. "

"Good!" commented Kingozi thoughtfully. Then after a moment: "_Bassi_. "

Mali-ya-bwana saluted once more and departed. Kingozi turned toward histent. 

It had been pitched under a huge tree, with low, massive limbs and a shadethat covered a diameter of fully sixty yards. Before it the usual tablehad been made of piled-up chop boxes, and to this Cazi Moto was bearingsteaming dishes. The threatened headache had not materialized, and Kingoziwas feeling quite fit. He was ravenously hungry, for now his system wasrested enough to assimilate food. His last meal had been breakfast beforesunup of the day before. Without paying even casual attention to hissurroundings he seated himself on a third chop box and began to eat. 

Kingozi's methods of eating had in them little of the epicure. He simplyate all he wanted of the first things set before him. After this he drankall he wanted from the tall _balauri_. Second courses did not exist forKingozi. Then with a sigh of satisfaction, he fumbled for his pipe andtobacco, and looked about him. 

The guest house had been built, as was the custom, a little apart from themain village. The latter was evidently around the bend of the hill, foronly three or four huts were to be seen, perched among the hugeoutcropping boulders that were, apparently, characteristic of these hills. The mountains rose rather abruptly, just beyond the plateau; which, inturn, fell away almost as abruptly to the sweep of the plains. The benchwas of considerable width--probably a mile at this point. It was notentirely level; but on the other hand not particularly broken. A number offine, symmetrical trees of unknown species grew at wide intervals, overtopping a tangle of hedges, rank bushes, vines, and shrubs thatappeared to constitute a rough sort of boundary between irregular fields. A tiny swift stream of water hurried by between the straight banks of anobviously artificial ditch. 

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 togetherin groups; men squatted on their heels before anything that struck theirattention, and stared. 

These people, Kingozi noted, were above middle size, of a red bronze, ofthe Semitic rather than the Hamitic type, well developed but not obviouslymuscular, of a bright and lively expression. The women shaved their headsquite 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 tothe size of a jampot. There were some, but not many, armlets, leglets, andnecklets of iron wire polished to the appearance of silver. The women worebrief skirts of softened skins: the men carried a short shoulder cape, orsimply nothing at all. Each man bore a long-bladed heavy spear. Beforesquatting 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 everydetail of the white man's appearance and belongings, watching his everymove. Nobody spoke; apparently nobody even winked. 

Now appeared across the prospect two men walking. One was an elderlysavage, with a wrinkled, shrewd countenance. He was almost completelyenveloped 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 froma single block of wood. The old man swept forward with considerabledignity; the younger, one hand held high in the most affected fashion, teetered gracefully along as mincingly as any dandy. 

The visitor came superbly up to where Kingozi sat, and uttered a greetingin Swahili. He proved to possess a grand, deep, thunderous voice. 

"_Jambo!_" he rolled. 

Kingozi stared up at him coolly for a moment; then, without removing hispipe from his teeth, he remarked:

"_Jambo!_"

The old man, smiling, extended his hand. [8]

[Footnote 8: Many African tribes shake hands in one way or another. ]

Kingozi, nursing the bowl of his pipe, continued to stare up at him. 

"Are you the _sultani?_" he demanded abruptly. 

The old man waved his hand in courtly fashion. 

"I am not the _sultani_, " he answered in very bad Swahili; "I am theheadman of the _sultani_. "

Kingozi continued to stare at him in the most uncompromising manner. Inthe meantime the younger man had loosed the thong from his wrist and hadplaced the stool on a level spot. The prime minister to the _sultani_arranged his robe preparatory to sitting down. 

Kingozi removed his pipe from his lips, and sat erect. 

"Stand up!" he commanded sharply. "If you are not the _sultani_ how dareyou sit down before me!"

The youth whisked the stool away: the old man covered his discomfiture ina flow of talk. Kingozi listened to him in silence. The visitor concludedhis remarks which--as far as they could be understood--were entirelygeneral: and, with a final courtly wave of the hand, turned away. ThenKingozi spoke, abruptly, curtly. 

"Have your people bring me eggs, " he said, "milk, _m'wembe_. "[9]

[Footnote 9: A sort of flour ground from rape seeds. ]

The old man, somewhat abashed, made the most dignified retreat possiblethrough the keenly attentive audience of his own people. 

Kingozi gazed after him, his blue eyes wide with their peculiar aggressiveblank stare. A low hum of conversation swept through the squattingwarriors. Those who understood Swahili murmured eagerly to those who didnot. These uttered politely the long drawn "A-a-a-a!" of savage interest. 

"Cazi Moto, where is my chair?" Kingozi demanded, abruptly conscious thatthe chop box was not very comfortable. 

"Bibi-ya-chui has it. "

"Where is she?"

"Right behind you, " came that young woman's voice in amused tones. "Youhave been so busy that you have not seen me. "

Kingozi turned. The chair had been placed in a bare spot close to thetrunk of the great tree. He grinned cheerfully. 

"I was pretty hungry, " he confessed, "and I don't believe I saw a singlething but that curry!"

[Footnote 9: A sort of flour ground from rape seeds. ]

"Naturally. It is not to be wondered at. Are you all rested?"

"I'm quite fit, thanks. And you?"

She was still in her marching costume; but her hair had been smoothed, herface washed. The colour had come back to her lips, the light to herexpression. Only a faint dark encircling of the eyes, and a certaingraceful languor of attitude recalled the collapse of yesterday. 

"Oh, I am all right; but perishing for a cigarette. Have you one?"

"Sorry, but I don't use them. Are not all your loads up yet?"

"None of them. "

"Well, they should be in shortly. Cazi Moto has given you breakfast, ofcourse. "

"Yes. But nobody has yet gone for my loads. "

"What!" exclaimed Kingozi sharply. "Why did you not start men for themwhen you first awakened?"

She smiled at him ruefully. 

"I tried. But they said they were very tired from yesterday. They wouldnot go. "

"Simba!" called Kingozi. 

"Suh!"

"Bring the headman of Bibi-ya-chui. Is he that mop-headed blighter?" heasked her. 

"Who? Oh, the Nubian, Chaké. No; he is just a faithful creature nearmyself. I have no headman. "

"Who takes your orders, then?"

"The _askaris_. "

"Which one?"

"Any of them. " She made a mouth. "Don't look at me in that fashion. Isthat so very dreadful?"

"It's impossible. You can never run a safari in that way. Simba, bring allthe _askaris_. "

Simba departed on his errand. Kingozi turned to her gravely. 

"Dear lady, " said he gravely, "I am going to offend you again. But thiswon't do. You are a wonderful woman; but you do not know this game wellenough. I acknowledge you will handle this show ordinarily in tiptopstyle; but in a new country, in contact with new peoples--it's aspecialist's job, that's all. "

"I'm beginning to think so, " she replied with unexpected humility. 

"Already you've lost control of your organization: you nearly died fromlack of water--By the way, why didn't you push ahead with your Nubian, andfind the water?"

"I had to get my men on. "

He looked on her with more approval. 

"Well, you're safe out of it. And now, I beg of you, don't do it anymore. "

"Is my little scolding all done?" she asked after a pause. 

"Forgive me. I did not mean it as a scolding. "

She sat upright and rested her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands. Her long sea-green eyes softened. 

"Listen: I deserve that what you say. I thought I knew, because always Ihave travelled in a good country. But never the hell of a dry country. Iwant you to know that you are quite right, and I want to tell you that Iknow you saved me and my men: and I would not know what to do now if youwere not here to help me. There!" she made a pretty outward-flinginggesture. "Is that enough?"

Kingozi, like most men whose natural efficiency has been hardened by wideexperience, while impervious to either open or wily antagonism, melted atthe first hint of surrender. A wave of kindly feeling overwhelmed the lastsuspicions--absurd suspicions--his analysis had made. He was preventedfrom replying by the approach of Simba at the head of eight of the_askaris_. They slouched along at his heels, sullen and careless, but whenthey felt the impact of Kingozi's cold glare, they straightened toattention. Kingozi ran his eye over them. 

"Where are the other four?" he demanded. 

"Three are in the _shenzis'_ village. One says he is very tired. "

"Take Mali-ya-bwana and Cazi Moto. Take the leg chains. Bring that one manbefore me with the chains on him. Have him bring also his gun; and hiscartridges. "

Ignoring the waiting eight, Kingozi resumed his conversation with theLeopard Woman. 

"They are out of hand, " said he. "We must impress them. "

"_Kiboko?_" she inquired. 

"Perhaps--but you have rather overdone that. We shall see. "

"I heard you talk with that old man a few moments ago, " she said. "And Iheard also much talk of our men about it. He is a very powerful chief--next to the _sultani_. Are not you afraid that your treatment of him willmake trouble? You were not polite. "

"What else have you heard?"

"This _sultani_ has apparently several hundred villages. They keep goats, fat-tailed sheep, and some few cattle. They raise _m'wembe_, beans, peanuts, and bananas. They have a war caste of young men. "

Kingozi listened to her attentively. 

"Good girl!" said he. "You use your intelligence. These are all goodpoints to know. "

"But this old man----"

"No; I have not insulted him. I know the native mind. I have merelyconvinced him that I am every bit as important a person as his _sultani_. "

"What do you do next? Call on the _sultani_. "

"By no means. Wait until he comes. If he does not come by, say to-morrow, send for him. "

Simba appeared leading a downcast _askari_ in irons. Kingozi waved hishand toward those waiting in the sun; and the new captive made the ninth. 

"Now, Simba, go to the village of these _shenzis_. Tell the other three_askaris_ to come; and at once. Do not return without them. "

Simba, whose fierce soul all this delighted beyond expression, started offjoyfully, trailed by a posse of his own choosing. 

"What are you going to do?" asked the Leopard Woman curiously. 

"Get them in line a bit, " replied Kingozi carelessly. "I feel rather lazyand done up to-day; don't you?"

"That is so natural. And I am keeping your chair----"

"I've been many trips without one. This tree is good to lean against----"

They chatted about trivial matters. A certain ease had crept into theirrelations: a guard had been lowered. To a small extent they ventured toquestion each other, to indulge in those tentative explorations ofpersonality so fascinating in the early stages of acquaintanceship. To herinquiries Kingozi repeated that he was an ivory hunter and trader; he cameinto this country because new country alone offered profits in ivory thesedays; he had been in Africa for fifteen years. At this last she looked himover closely. 

"You came out very young, " she surmised. 

"When my father took me out of the medical school to put me into theministry. I had a knack for doctoring. I ran away. "

"Why did you come to Africa?"

"Didn't particularly. Started for Iceland on a whaling ship. Sailed theseven seas after the brutes. Landed on the Gold Coast--and got leftbehind. "

She looked at him hard, and he laughed. 

"'Left' with my kit and about sixty pounds I had hung on to since I lefthome--my own money, mind you! _And_ a harpoon gun! Lord!" he laughedagain, "think of it--a harpoon gun! You loaded it with about a peck ofblack powder. Normally, of course, it shot a harpoon, but you could verynear cram a nigger baby down it! And kick! If you were the least bit offbalance it knocked you flat. It was the most extraordinary cannon everseen in Africa, and it inspired more respect, acquired me more _kudos_than even my beard. "

"So _that's_ why you wear it!" she murmured. 

"What?"

"Nothing; go on. "

"Just the sight of that awe-inspiring piece of ordnance took me the lengthof the Congo without the least difficulty. "

"Tell me about the Congo. "

Apparently, at this direct and comprehensive question, there was nothingto tell about the Congo. But adroitly she drew him on. He told of thegreat river and its people, and the white men who administered it. Thesubject of cannibals seemed especially to fascinate her. He had seenliving human beings issued as a sort of ration on the hoof to nativecannibal troops. 

Simba returned with the other three _askaris_. 

Kingozi arose from the ground and stretched himself. 

"I'm sorry, " said he, "I'm afraid I shall have to ask you for the chairnow. "

She arose, wondering a little. He placed the chair before the waiting lineof _askaris_, and planted himself squarely in it as in a judgment seat. Heran his eye over the men deliberately. 

"You!" said he suddenly, pointing his forefinger at the man in irons. "Youhave disobeyed my orders. You are no longer an _askari_. You are a commonporter, and from now on will carry a load. It is not my custom to use_kiboko_ on _askaris_; but a common porter can eat _kiboko_, and Mali-ya-bwana, my headman of safari, will give you twenty-five lashes. _Bassi!_"

Mali-ya-bwana, well pleased thus early to exercise the authority of hisnew office, led the man away. 

Kingozi dropped his chin in his hand, a movement that pushed out his beardin a terrifying manner. One after another of the eleven men felt theweight of his stare. At last he spoke. 

"I have heard tales of you, " said he, "but I who speak know nothing aboutyou. You are _askaris_, soldiers with guns, and next to gun bearers arethe greatest men in the safari. Some have told me that you are not_askaris_, 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 donequickly: the loads of your _memsahib_ must be brought here, and camp madeproperly, according to the custom. Perhaps your men are no longer tired:perhaps you will get the _shenzis_. That is not my affair. Youunderstand?"

The answer came in an eager chorus. 

He ran his eye over them again. 

"You, " he indicated, "stand forward. Of what tribe are you?"

"Monumwezi, _bwana_. "

"Your name?"

The man uttered a mouthful of gutturals. 

"Again. "

He repeated. 

"That is not a good name for me. From now on you are--Jack. "

"Yes, _bwana_. "

"Do you know the customs of _askaris?_"

"Yes, _bwana_. "

"H'm, " Kingozi commented in English, "nobody would guess it. Thenunderstand this: You are headman of _askaris_. You take the orders: youreport to me--or the _memsahib_, " he added, almost as an afterthought. "To-morrow morning _fall in_, and I will look at your guns. _Bassi!_"

They filed away. Kingozi arose and returned the chair. 

"Is that all you will do to them?" she demanded. "I tell you they haveinsulted me; they have refused to move; they should be punished. "

"That's all. They understand now what will happen. You will see: they willnot refuse again. "

She appeared to struggle against a flare of her old rebellious spirit. 

"I will leave it to you, " she managed at last. 

The squatting savages had not moved a muscle, but their shining black eyeshad not missed a single detail. 

CHAPTER X

THE SULTANI

Six hours later the Leopard Woman's camp had arrived, had been pitched, and everything was running again as usual. The new _askari_ headman, Jack, had reported pridefully to Kingozi. The latter had nodded a carelessacknowledgment; and had referred the man to his mistress. She haddisappeared for a time, but now emerged again, bathed, freshened, daintyin her silken tea gown, the braids of hair down her back, the band ofwoven gold encircling her brow, the single strange jewel hanging in themiddle 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 andgrowing impatient, she trailed over to him, the Nubian following with herchair. Kingozi was absorbed in establishing points on his map. He lookedup at her and nodded pleasantly, then moved his protractor a few inches. 

"Just a moment, " he murmured absorbedly. 

She lit a cigarette and yawned. The immediate prospect was dull. Savagescontinued 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 storeeach porter had drawn forth a few beads, some snuff, a length of wire, orsimilar treasure; and with them was making the best bargain he could forthe delicacies of the country. The process was noisy. Four _askaris_, withtheir guns, stood on guard. The shadows were lengthening in the hills, andthe heat waves had ceased to shimmer like veils. 

"That's done, " said Kingozi at last. 

"Thank the Lord!" she ejaculated. "This bores me. Why do we not dosomething? I should like some milk, some eggs--many things. Let us summonthis king. "

But Kingozi shook his head. 

"That's all very well where the white man's influence reaches. But nothere. I doubt if there are three men in this people who have ever evenseen a white man. Of course they have all heard of us, and know a gooddeal about us. We must stand on our dignity here. Let the _sultani_ cometo us, all in his own time. Without his goodwill we cannot move a stepfarther, we cannot get a pound of _potio_. "

"How long will it take? I want to get on. This does not interest me. Ihave seen many natives. "

Kingozi smiled. 

"Two days of visit. Then perhaps a week to get _potio_ and guides. "

"Impossible! I could not endure it!"

"I am afraid you will have to. I know the untamed savage. He is inclinedto be friendly, always. If you hurry the process, you must fight. That'sthe trouble with a big mob like yours. It is difficult to feed so manypeacefully. Even in a rich country they bring in _potio_ slowly--a cupfulat a time. With the best intentions in the world you may have to usecoercion to keep from starving. And coercion means trouble. Look atStanley--he left hostilities everywhere, that have lasted up to now. Thepeople were well enough disposed when he came among them with his six oreight 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 _take_ it. Evenwhen you pay for a thing, that doesn't work. The news travelled ahead ofhim, and the result was he had to fight. And everybody else has had tofight ever since. "

"That is interesting. I did not know that. "

"A small party can negotiate. That's why I say you have too many men. "

"But the time wasted!" she cried aghast. 

"Time is nothing in Africa. " He went on to tell her of the two travellersin Rhodesia who came upon a river so wide that they could but just seefrom 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 thestream. Four months later the first man returned with the boat. The"river" had dried up completely!

"They didn't mind, " said Kingozi, "they thought it a huge joke. "

An hour before sundown signs of activity manifested themselves from thedirection of the invisible village. A thin, high, wailing chant in femalevoices came fitfully to their ears. A compact little group of men roundedthe bend and approached. Their gait was slow and stately. 

"Well, " remarked Kingozi, feeling for his pipe, "we are going to behonoured by that visit from his majesty. "

The Leopard Woman leaned forward and surveyed the approaching men withsome interest. They were four in number. Three were naked, their bodiesoiled until they glistened with a high polish. One of them carried abattered old canvas steamer chair; one a fan of ostrich plumes; and one along gourd heavily decorated with cowrie shells. The fourth was animpressive individual in middle life, hawkfaced, tall and spare, carryinghimself with great dignity. He wore a number of anklets and armlets ofpolished wire, a broad beaded collar, heavy earrings, and a sumptuous robeof softened goatskins embroidered with beads and cowrie shells. As hestrode his anklets clashed softly. His girt was free, and he walked withauthority. Altogether an impressive figure. 

"The _sultani_ is a fine-looking man, " observed Bibi-ya-chui. "I supposethe others are slaves. "

Kingozi threw a careless glance in the direction of the approaching group. 

"Not the _sultani_--some understrapper. Chief Hereditary Guardian of theRoyal Chair, or something of that sort, I dare say. "

The tall man approached, smiling graciously. Kingozi vouchsafed him noattention. Visibly impressed, the newcomer rather fussily superintendedthe unfolding and placing of the chair. The slaves with the plumed fan andthe gourd stationed themselves at either side. The other two men fellback. 

Now the shrill chanting became more clearly audible. Shortly appeared aprocession. Women bearing burdens walked two by two. Armed men with spearsand shields flanked them. As they approached, it could be seen that theywere very gorgeous indeed; the women hung with strings of cowries, boundwith glittering brass and iron, bedecked with strings of beads. To onefamiliar with savage peoples there could be no doubt that these were closeto the purple. Each bead, each shell, each bangle of wire had been passedthrough many, many hands before it reached this remote fastness ofbarbarity; and in each hand, you may be sure, profits had remained. Butthe men were more impressive still. Stark naked of every stitch of clothor of tanned skins, oiled with an unguent carrying a dull red stain, theirheads shaved bare save for a small crown patch from which single feathersfloated, they symbolized well the warrior stripped for the fray. A beadedbroad belt supported a short sword and the _runga_, or war club; an ovalshield of buffalo hide, brilliantly painted, hung on the left arm; apolished long-bladed spear was carried in the right hand. And surroundingthe face, as a frame, was a queer headdress of black ostrich plumes. Everyman of them wore about his ankles hollow bangles of considerable size; andthese he clashed loudly one against the other as he walked. 

It made a great uproar this--the clang of the iron, the wild wailing ofthe women's voices. 

Kingozi moved his chair four or five paces to the front. 

"I'm sorry, " he told her, "but I must ask you to stay where you are. Thisis an important occasion. "

He surveyed the oncoming procession with interest. 

"Swagger old beggar, " he observed. "His guard are well turned out. Youknow those markings on the shields are a true heraldry--the patterns meanfamilies, and all that sort of thing. "

The chanting grew louder as the procession neared. The warriors staredfiercely straight ahead. Before Kingozi they parted to right and left, forming an aisle leading to his chair. Down this the women came, one byone, still singing, and deposited their burdens at the white man's feet. There were baskets of _m'wembe_, earthen bowls of eggs, fowls, gourds ofmilk, bundles of faggots and firewood, woven bags of _n'jugu_ nuts, vegetables, and two small sheep. Kingozi stared indifferently into thedistance; but as each gift was added to the others he reached forward totouch it as a sign of acceptance. Their burdens deposited, they took theirplaces in front of the ranks of the warriors. 

"Am I supposed to speak?" asked the Leopard Woman. 

"Surely. "

"Shouldn't we order out our _askaris_ with their guns to make the parade?"

"No. We could not hope to equal this show, possibly. Our lay is to do thesupercilious indifferent. " He turned to his attentive satellite. "CaziMoto, " he ordered, "tell our people, quietly, to go back to their camps. They must not stand and stare at these _shenzis_. And tell M'pishi to makelarge _balauris_ of coffee, and put in plenty of sugar. "

Cazi Moto grinned understandingly, and glided away. Shortly the safari mencould be seen sauntering unconcernedly back to their little fires. 

Suddenly the warriors cried out in a loud voice, and raised their rightarms and spears rigidly above their heads. A tall, heavily built manappeared around the bend. He was followed by two young women, who flankedhim by a pace or so to the rear. They were so laden with savage riches asto be almost concealed beneath the strings of cowrie shells and bands ofbeads. In contrast the man wore only a long black cotton blanket draped toleave one shoulder and arm bare. Not an earring, not a bangle, not even afinger ring or a bead strap relieved the sombre simplicity of the blackrobe and the dark skin. 

"But this man is an artist!" murmured Bibi-ya-chui. "He understandseffect! This is stage managed!"

The _sultani_ approached without haste. He stopped squarely beforeKingozi's chair. The latter did not rise. The two men stared into eachother's eyes for a full minute, without embarrassment, without contest, without defiance. Then the black man spoke. 

"_Jambo, bwana_, " he rumbled in a deep voice. 

"_Jambo, sultani_" replied Kingozi calmly. 

They shook hands. 

With regal deliberation the visitor arranged his robes and sat down in thebattered old canvas chair. A silence that lasted nearly five minutesensued. 

"I thank you, _sultani_, for the help your men have given. I thank you forthe houses. I thank you for these gifts. "

The _sultani_ waved his hand magnificently. 

"It is not the custom of white men to give gifts until their departure, "continued Kingozi, "but this knife is yours to make friendship. "

He handed over a knife, of Swedish manufacture, the blade of whichdisappeared into the handle in a most curious fashion. The _sultani's_eyes lit up with an almost childish delight, but his countenance showed noemotion. He passed the knife on to the dignitary who stood behind hischair. 

"This, " said Kingozi, taking one of the steaming _balauris_ from CaziMoto, "is the white man's _tembo_. "

The _sultani_ tasted doubtfully. He was pleased. He gave back the_balauri_ at last with a final smack of the lips. 

"Good!" said he. 

Another full five minutes of silence ensued. Then the _sultani_ arose. Hecast a glance about him, his eye, avid with curiosity, held rigidly inrestraint. It rested on the Leopard Woman. 

"I see you have one of your women with you, " he remarked. 

He turned, without further ceremony, and stalked off, followed at a fewpaces by the two richly ornamented girls. The warriors again raised theirspears aloft, holding them thus until their lord had rounded the cliff. Then, the women in precedence, they marched away. Kingozi puffed his pipeindifferently. 

The Leopard Woman was visibly impatient, visibly roused. 

"Are you letting him go?" she demanded. "Do not you inquire the country?Do not you ask for _potio_, for guides?"

"Not to-day, " replied Kingozi. He turned deliberately to face her, hiseyes serious. "Please realize once for all that we live here only by forceof _prestige_. My only chance of getting on, our only chance of safetyrests on my ability to impress this man with the idea that I am a biggerlord than he. And, remember, I have lived in savage Africa for fifteenyears, and I know what I am doing. This is very serious. You must notinterfere; and you must not suggest. "

The Leopard Woman's eyes glittered dangerously, but she controlledherself. 

"You talk like a sultan yourself, " she protested at length. "You shouldnot use that tone to me. "

Kingozi brushed the point aside with a large gesture. 

"I will play the game of courtesy with you, yes, " said he, "but only whenit does not interfere with serious things. In this matter there must be noindefiniteness, no chance for misunderstanding. Politeness, between thesexes, means both. I will repeat: in this you must leave me free hand nointerference, no suggestion. "

"And if I disobey your commands?" she challenged, with an emphasis on thelast word. 

He surveyed her sombrely. 

"I should take measures, " he replied finally. 

"You are not my master: you are not the master of my men!"

Kingozi permitted himself a slight smile. 

"If you believe that last statement, just try to give an order to your mencounter to an order of mine. You would see. And of course in case of areal crisis I should have to make myself master of you, if you seemedlikely to be troublesome. "

"I would kill you! I warn you; I go always armed!"

From the folds of her silken robe she produced a small automatic pistolwhich she displayed. Kingozi glanced at it indifferently. 

"In that case you would have to kill yourself, too; and then it would notmatter to either of us. "

"I find you insufferable!" she cried, getting to her feet. 

She moved away in the direction of her camp. The faithful Nubian foldedher 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. 

CHAPTER XI

THE IVORY STOCKADE

The Leopard Woman, emerging from her tent shortly after sunup the nextmorning, saw across the opening her own _askaris_ being drilled byKingozi, Simba, and Cazi Moto. Evidently the instruction was in riflefire. Two were getting individual treatment: Simba and Cazi Moto wereputting them through a careful course in aiming and pulling the trigger onempty guns. Kingozi sat on a chop box in the shade, gripping his eternalpipe, and issuing curt orders and criticisms to the baker's dozen, beforehim. When he saw the Leopard Woman he arose and strolled in her direction. 

"That's the worst lot of so-called _askaris_ I ever saw, " he remarked. "Where did you pick them up?"

His manner was entirely unconscious of any discussions or dissentions. Helooked into her eyes and smiled genially. 

"I took them from the recruiting man, as they came, " she replied. Asalways the deeps of her eyes were enigmatical; but the surfaces, at least, of her mood answered his. 

"They know how to load a gun, and that is about all. I don't believe oneof them ever fired a weapon before this trip. They haven't the mostrudimentary ideas of aiming. Don't even know what sights are for. My boyswill soon whip them into some sort of shape. I came over to see how muchammunition you have for their muskets. They really ought to fire a fewrounds--after a week of aiming and snapping. Then they'll be of some use. Not much, though. "

"I really don't know, " she answered his question. "Chaké will look andsee. "

"Send him over to report when he finds out, " requested Kingozi, preparingto return. 

"What move does your wisdom contemplate to-day?" she called after him. 

"Oh, return his majesty's visit this afternoon. Like to go?"

"Certainly. "

"Well, I'll let you know when. And if you go, you must be content to standtwo or three yards behind me, and to say nothing. "

She flushed, but answered steadily enough:

"I'll remember. "

It was nearing sundown when Kingozi emerged from his tent and gave thesignal 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 hiswrist watch; and, again for the first time, he had assumed a military-looking tunic. He carried his double rifle. 

"Got on everything I own, " he grinned. 

Simba and Cazi Moto waited near. From the mysterious sources every nativeAfrican seems to possess they had produced new hats and various trinkets. Their khakis had been fresh washed; so they looked neat and trim. 

The Leopard Woman wore still one of her silken negligées, and the jewel onher forehead; but her hair had been piled high on her head. Kingozisurveyed her with some particularity. She noted the fact. Her satisfactionwould have diminished could she have read his mind. He was thinking thather appearance was sufficiently barbaric to impress a barbaric king. 

They rounded the point of cliffs, and the village lay before them. Itrambled up the side of the mountain, hundreds of beehive houses perchedand clinging, with paths from one to the other. The approach was through anarrow straight lane of thorn and aloes, so thick and so spiky that noliving thing bigger than a mouse could have forced its way through thewalls. The end of this vista was a heavy palisade of timbers through whicha door led into a circular enclosure ten feet in diameter, on the otherside of which another door opened into the village. Above each of thesedoors 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 greatdrum. 

"They're pretty well fixed here, " observed Kingozi critically. "Nobody canget at them except down that lane. The mountains are impassable because ofthe thorn. They must use arrows. "

"Why?" asked the Leopard Woman. 

"The form of their defence. They shoot between the logs of the palisadedown the narrow lane. If they fought only with spears, the lane would beshorter, and it would be defended on the flank. "

"Why don't they defend it on the flank also, even with arrows?" asked theLeopard Woman shrewdly. 

"'It is not the custom, '" wearily quoted Kingozi in the vernacular. "Don'task me _why_ a savage does things. I only know he does. "

Their conversation was drowned by the sound of the drum. 

The guardian did not beat it, but rubbed the head rapidly with the stick, modifying the pressure scientifically until the vibrations had wellstarted. It roared hollowly, like some great bull. 

The visitors passed through the defensive anteroom and entered the villageenclosure. 

On the flat below the hills, heretofore invisible, stood a half-dozenlarge houses. At the end, where the cañon began to narrow, a fence gleameddazzlingly white. From this distance the four-foot posts, planted inproximity like a stockade, looked to have been whitewashed. 

People were appearing everywhere. The crags and points of the hills werefilling with bold black figures silhouetted against the sky. Men, women, children, dogs sprang up, from the soil apparently. As though by magic theflat open space became animated. Plumed heads appeared above the whitefence in the distance, where, undoubtedly, their owners had been loafingin the shade. Another drum began to roar somewhere, and with it the echoesbegan to arouse themselves in the hills. 

Paying no attention to any of this interesting confusion Kingozi saunteredstraight ahead. At his command the Leopard Woman had dropped a pace to therear. 

"The royal palace is behind the white fence, " he volunteered over hisshoulder. 

They approached the sacred precincts. But while yet fifty yards distant, Kingozi stopped with an exclamation. He turned to the Leopard Woman, andfor the first time she saw on his face and in his eyes a genuine andunconcealed excitement. 

"My Lord!" he cried to her, "saw ever any man the likes of that!"

The white posts of which the fence was made were elephants' tusks!

"Kingdom coming, what a sight!" murmured Kingozi. "Why, there are hundredsand hundreds of them--and the smallest worth not less than fifty pounds!"

Her eyes answered him whole-heartedly, for her imagination was afire. 

"What magnificence!" she replied. "The thought is great--a palace ofivory! This is kingly!"

But the light had died in Kingozi's eyes. "Won't do!" he muttered to her. "Compose your face. Come. "

Without another glance at the magnificent tusks he marched on through theopen gate. 

Other drums, many drums, were roaring all about. The cliff of the cañonwas filled with sound that buffeted back and forth until it seemed that itmust rise above the hills and overflow the world. A chattering andhurrying of people could be heard as an undertone. 

The small enclosure was occupied by a dozen of the plumed warriors who hadnow snatched up emblazoned shield and polished spear; and stood rigidly atattention. Women of all ages crouched and squatted against the fence andthe sides of a large wattle and thatch building. 

Kingozi walked deliberately about, looking with detached interest at thevarious people and objects the corral contained. He had very much the airof a man sauntering idly about a museum, with all the time in the world onhis hands, and nowhere much to go. Simba and Cazi Moto remained near thegate. The Leopard Woman, not knowing what else to do, trailed after him. 

This continued for some time. At last her impatience overcame her. 

"I suppose I may talk, " said she resentfully. "How much longer must thisgo on? Why do not you make your call and have it over?"

Kingozi laughed. 

"You do not know this game. Inside old Stick-in-the mud is waiting in allhis grandeur. He expects me to go in to him. I am going to wait until hecomes out to me. _Prestige_ again. "

Apparently without a care in the world, he continued his stroll. Smallnaked children ventured from hiding-places and stared. To some of theseKingozi spoke pleasantly with the immediate effect of causing them toscuttle back to cover. He examined minutely the tusks comprising thestockade. They had been arranged somewhat according to size, with thecurve outward. Kingozi spent some time estimating them. 

"Fortune here for some one, " he observed. 

At the end of an hour the _sultani_ gave up the contest and appeared, smiling, unconcerned. The men greeted each other, exchanged a few words. Women emerged from the house carrying _tembo_ in gourd bottles, andsmaller half-gourds from which to drink it. Their eyes were large withcuriosity as to this man and woman of a new species. Kingozi touched hislips to the _tembo_. They exchanged a few words, and shook hands again. Then Kingozi turned away, and, followed by the Leopard Woman and his twomen, walked out through the ivory gateway, down through the open flat, under the fortified portal, and so down the lane of spiky walls. The drumsroared louder and louder. Warriors in spear, shield, and plumed headdressstood 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 cragsabove. They rounded the corner of the cliff. Before them lay their ownquiet peaceful camp. Only the voice of the drums bellowed as though behindthem in the cleft of the hills some great and savage beast lay hid. 

[Illustration: "Their eyes were large with curiosity as to this man andwoman of a new species.... Kingozi touched his lips to the _tembo_"]

"That seemed to be all right, " suggested the Leopard Woman, rangingalongside again. 

"They didn't spear us, if that's what you mean. We can tell more about itto-morrow. "

"What will happen to-morrow?"

"Yesterday and to-day finished the 'side' and ceremony. If to-morrow oldStick-in-the-mud drifts around quite on his own, like any other _shenzi_, and if the women come into camp freely, why then we're all right. "

"And otherwise?"

"Well, if the _sultani_ 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 carrytheir spears--that won't be so favourable. " "In which case we fight?"

"No: I'll alter my diplomacy. There's a vast difference between mereunfriendliness and hostility. I think I can handle the former all right. Iwish I knew a little more of their language. Swahili hardly fills thebill. I'll see what I can do with it in the next few days. "

"You cannot learn a language in a few days!" she objected incredulously. 

"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 ofBantu-Masai stock. "

She looked at him. 

"You know, " she told him slowly, "I am beginning to believe you _savant_. 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 toinfluence them. "

"I have a little knowledge of how to go at them, that's true. That's aboutthe only claim I have to being _savant_, as you call it. My book knowledgeand 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'sone 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 wellif not better. It is a rare combination. He's 'way over west of ussomewhere now--in the Congo headwaters--a Bavarian, name Winkleman. "

Had Kingozi been looking at her he would have seen the Leopard Woman'sframe stiffen at the mention of this name. For a moment she said nothing. 

"I know the name--he is great scientist, " she managed to say. 

"He is more than a scientist; he is a great humanist. No man has moreinsight, more sympathetic insight into the native mind. A man of vastinfluence. "

They had reached Kingozi's camp under the great tree. He began to unbucklehis equipment. 

"I'll just lay all this gorgeousness aside, " said he apologetically. 

But the Leopard Woman did not proceed to her own camp. 

"I am interested, " said she. "This Winkleman--he has vast influence? Morethan yourself?"

"That is hard to say, " laughed Kingozi. "I should suppose so. "

She caught at a hint of reluctant pride in his voice. 

"Let us suppose, " said she. "Let us suppose that you wanted one thing ofnatives, and Winkleman wanted another thing. Which would succeed?"

"Neither. We'd both be speared, " replied Kingozi promptly. "Positive andnegative poles, and all that sort of thing. "

She puzzled over this a moment, trying to cast her question in a new form. 

"But suppose this: suppose Winkleman had obtained his wish. Could youovercome his influence and what-you-call substitute your own?"

"No more than he could substitute his were the cases reversed. I'veconfidence enough in myself and knowledge enough of Winkleman to guaranteethat. "

"So it would depend on who got there first?" she persisted; "that is youropinion?"

"Why, yes. But what does it matter?"

"It amuses me to get knowledge. I admire your handle of these people. Youmust be patient and explain. It is all new to me, although I thought I hadmuch experience. "

She arose. 

"I am tired now. I go to the _siesta_. "

Kingozi stared after her retreating figure. The direct form of herquestions had stirred again suspicions that had become vague. 

"What's she driving at?" he asked the uncomprehending Simba in English. Heconsidered the question for some moments. "Don't even know her name ornationality, " he confessed to himself after a while. "She's a queer one. Isuppose I'll have to give her a man or so to help her back across theThirst. " He pondered again, "I might take her _askaris_. Country will feedthem now. I'll have a business talk with her. "

As the tone of voice sounded final to Simba he ventured his usual reply. 

"Yes, suh!" said Simba. 

CHAPTER XII

THE PILOCARPIN

The _sultani_ duly appeared the next morning; women brought in firewoodand products of the country to trade; all was well. The entire day, andthe succeeding days for over a week, Kingozi sat under his big tree, smoking his black pipe. The _sultani_ sat beside him. For long periods ata time nothing at all was said. Then for equally long periods a livelyconversation went on, through an interpreter mostly, though occasionallythe _sultani_ launched into his bastard Swahili or Kingozi ventured a fewwords in the new tongue. Once in a while some intimate would saunter intoview, and would be summoned by his king. Then Kingozi patiently did thefollowing things:

(a) He performed disappearing tricks with a rupee or other small object;causing it to vanish, and then plucking it from unexpected places. 

(b) With a pair of scissors--which were magic aplenty in themselves--hecut a folded paper in such a manner that when unfolded a row of paperdolls was disclosed. This was a very successful trick. The pleasedwarriors dandled them up and down delightedly in an _n'goma_. 

(c) He opened and shut an opera hat. The ordinary "plug hat" was known tothese people, but not an opera hat. 

(d) He allowed them to look through his prism glasses. 

(e) On rare occasions he lit a match. 

This vaudeville entertainment was always a huge success. The newcomerssquatted around the two chairs, and the conversation continued. 

Bibi-ya-chui occasionally stood near and listened. The subjects weretrivial in themselves, and repeated endlessly. 

Ten minutes of this bored her to the point of extinction. She could notunderstand how Kingozi managed to survive ten hours day after day. Onlyonce was he absent from his post, and then for only a few hours. He wentout accompanied by Simba and a dozen _shenzis_, and shot a wildebeeste. The tail of this--an object much prized as a fly whisk--he presented tohis majesty. All the rest of the time he talked and listened. 

"It is such childish nonsense!" the Leopard Woman expostulated. "How canyou do it?"

"Goes with the job. It's a thing you must learn to do if you would get onin this business. "

And once more she seemed to catch a glimpse of the infinity of savageAfrica, which has been the same for uncounted ages, impersonal, withouthistory, without the values of time!

But had she known it, Kingozi was getting what he required. Informationcame to him a word now, a word then; promises came to him in singlephrases lost in empty gossip. He collected what he wanted grain by grainfrom bushels of chaff. The whole sum of his new knowledge could have beenexpressed in a paragraph, took him a week to get, but was just what hewanted. If he had asked categorical questions, he would have receivedlies. If he had attempted to hurry matters, he would have got nothing atall. 

About sundown the _sultani_ would depart, followed shortly by the laststraggler of his people. The succeeding hours were clear of _shenzis_, foreither the custom of the country or the presence of strangers seemed todemand an _n'goma_ every evening. In the night stillness sounds carriedreadily. The drums, no longer rubbed but beaten in rhythm; the shrillwailing chants of women; the stamp and shuffle of feet; the cadencedclapping of hands rose and fell according to the fervour of the dance. Thethrob of these sounds was as a background to the evening--fierce, passionate, barbaric. 

After the departure of the _sultani_ Kingozi took a bath and changed hisclothes. The necessity for this was more mental than physical. Then herelaxed luxuriously. It was then that he resumed his relations with theLeopard Woman, and that they discussed matters of more or less importanceto both. 

The first evening they talked of the wonder of the ivory stockade. Kingozihad not yet had an opportunity to find out whence the tusks had come, whether the elephants had been killed in this vicinity, or whether theivory had been traded from the Congo. 

"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 onany reasonable basis. "

"You will not be going farther, " she suggested one evening, apropos ofnothing. 

"Farther? Why not?" he asked rather blankly. 

"You told me you were an ivory hunter, " she pointed out. 

"Ah--yes. But I have hardly the goods to trade--come back later, " hestumbled, for once caught off his guard. "I'm really looking for newhunting grounds. "

She did not pursue the subject; but the enigmatic smile lurked for amoment in the depths of her eyes. 

Every night after supper Kingozi caused his medicine chest to be broughtout and opened, and for a half-hour he doctored the sick. On this subjecthe manifested an approach to enthusiasm. 

"I know I can't doctor them all, " he answered her objection, "and thatit's foolish to pick out one here and there; but it interests me. I toldyou I was a medical student by training. " He fingered over the squarebottles, each in its socket. "This is not the usual safari drug list, " hesaid. "I like to take these queer cases and see what I can do with them. Imay learn something; at any rate, it interests me. McCloud at Nairobifitted me out; and told me what it would be valuable to observe. "

She appeared interested, and shortly he became enough convinced of this toshow and explain each drug separately. The quinine he carried in thehydrochlorate instead of the sulphate, and he waxed eloquent telling herwhy. Crystals of iodine as opposed to permanganate of potash forantiseptic he discussed. From that he branched into antisepsis as opposedto asepsis as a practical method in the field. 

"Theory has nothing to do with it, " said he. "It's a matter of which will_work!_"

It was all technical; but it interested her for the simple reason thatKingozi was really enthusiastic. True enthusiasm, without pose or self-consciousness, invariably arouses interest. 

"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'spilocarpin. "

"What is pilocarpin?" she asked, making a difficulty of the word. 

"It is really a sort of eye dope, " he explained. "You know atropin--thestuff an oculist uses in your eyes when he wants to examine them--leavesyour vision blurred for a day or so. "

"Yes, I know that. "

"The effect of atropin is to expand the pupil. Pilocarpin is just theopposite--it contracts the pupil. "

"What need could you possibly have of that?"

"There's the joke: I haven't. But when I was outfitting I could not getnear enough phenacetin. I suppose you know that we use phenacetin toinduce sweating as first treatment of fever. "

"I am not entirely ignorant. I can treat fevers, of course. "

"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 aneffect internally to induce sweating. So that's why I have it. "

She was examining the bottles. 

"But you have atropin also. Why is that?"

"There's a good deal of ophthalmia or trachoma floating around some nativedistricts. I thought I might experiment. "

"And this"--she picked up a third bottle--"ah, yes, morphia. But how muchalike they all are. "

"In appearance, yes; in effect most radically and fatally different--likepeople, " smiled Kingozi. 

But though Kingozi's scientific interest was keen in certain directions--as ethnology, drugs, and zoology--it had totally blind spots. Thus theLeopard Woman kept invariably on her table the bowl of fresh flowers; andshe manifested an unfailing liking to investigate such strange shrubs, trees, flowers, or nondescript growths as flourished thereabouts. 

"Do you know how one names these?" she asked him concerning certainstrange blooms. 

"I know nothing whatever about vegetables, " he replied with indifferentscorn. 

Several times after that, forgetting, she proffered the same question andreceived exactly the same reply. Finally it became a joke to her. Slyly, at sufficient intervals so that he should not become conscious of therepetition, she took delight in eliciting this response, always the same, always delivered with the same detached scorn:

"I know nothing whatever about vegetables. "

In the meantime Simba, with great enthusiasm, continued his drill of the_askaris_. Kingozi gave them an hour early in the day. They developedrapidly from wild trigger yanking. An allowance of two cartridges apieceproved them no great marksmen, but at least steady on discharge. 

The "business conversation" Kingozi projected with the Leopard Woman didnot take place until late in the week. By that time he had pieced togetherconsiderable information, as follows:

The mountain ranges at their backs possessed three practicable routes. Beyond the ranges were grass plains with much game. Water could be had incertain known places. No people dwell on these plains. This was because ofthe tsetse fly that made it impossible to keep domestic cattle. Far--veryfar--perhaps a month, who knows, is the country of the _sultani_ M'tela. This is a very great _sultani_--very great indeed--a _sultani_ whosespears are like the leaves of grass. His people are fierce, like theMasai, like the people of Lobengula, and make war their trade. His peopleare 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 onemust find representatives of a little scattered plains tribe. That can bedone. _Potio_ for two weeks can be had--and so on. 

Kingozi was particularly interested in these Kabilaganis: and pressed foras much information as he could. Strangely enough he did not mention theivory stockade, nor did he attempt either to trade or to determine whetheror not the _sultani_ knew its value. 

At the end of eight days he knew what he wished to know. 

"I shall leave in two days, " he told the Leopard Woman. "I should suggestthat 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. "

"But I am not going back!" she cried. "I am going on. "

"That is impossible. " He went on to explain to her what he had learned ofthe country ahead: omitting, however, all reference to M'tela and hiswarrior nation. "More plains: more game. That's all. You have more of thatthan you can use back where we came from. And with every step you arefarther away. I am going on--very far. I may not come back at all. "

She listened to all his arguments, but shook her head obstinately at theirend. 

"Your plan does not please me, " said she. "I will go and see these plainsfor myself. "

This was final, and Kingozi at last came to see it so. 

"I was going to suggest that I relieve you of your _askaris_, " said he, "but if you persist in this foolish and aimless plan, you will need themfor yourself. "

"Cannot we go together, at least for a distance?"

But to this he was much opposed. 

"I shall be travelling faster than your cumbersome safari, " he objected. "I could not delay. "

And in this decision he seemed as firm as had she in her intention toproceed. After a light reconnaissance, so to speak, of argument, appeal, and charm, she gave over trying to persuade him, and fell back on herusual lazily indifferent attitude. Kingozi went ahead with hispreparations, laying in _potio_, examining kits, preparing in every wayhis compact little caravan for the long journey before it. Then somethinghappened. He changed his mind and decided to combine safaris with theLeopard Woman. 

CHAPTER XIII

THE TROPIC MOON

For several nights the plain below the plateau had been a sea ofmoonlight, white, ethereal, fragile as spun glass. Each evening the shadowof the mountains had shortened, drawing close under the skirts of thehills. In stately orderly progression the quality of the night world waschanging. The heavy brooding darkness was being transformed to a fairydelicacy of light. 

And the life of the world seemed to feel this change, to be stirring, atfirst feebly, then with growing strength. The ebb was passed; the tideswere rising to the brim. Each night the throb of the drums seemed to beatmore passionately, the rhythm to become quicker, wilder: the wailingchants of the women rose in sudden gusts of frenzy. Dark figures stoleabout in shadows; so that Kingozi, becoming anxious, gave especialinstructions, and delegated trusty men to see that they were obeyed. 

"If our men get to fooling with their women, they'll spear the lot of us!"he explained. 

And at last, like a queen whose coming has been prepared, a queen in whoseanticipation life had quickened, the moon herself rose serenely above theranges. 

Immediately the familiar objects changed; the familiar shadows vanished. The world became a different world, full of enchantment, of soft-singingbirds, of chirping insects, of romance and recollections of past years, oflongings and the spells of barbaric Africa. 

Kingozi sat with the Leopard Woman "talking business" when this miracletook place. When the great rim of the moon materialized at the mountain'srim, he abruptly fell silent. The spell had him, as indeed it had allliving things. From the village the drums pulsed more wildly, shoutings ofmen commenced to mingle with the voices of the women; a confused clashingsound began to be heard. In camp the fires appeared suddenly to pale. Avague uneasiness swept the squatting men. Their voices fell: theyexchanged whispered monosyllables, dropping their voices, they knew notwhy. 

The Leopard Woman arose and glided to the edge of the tree's shadow, whereshe stood gazing upward at the moon. Kingozi watched her. He, old andseasoned traveller as he was, had indeed fallen under the spell. He didnot consider it extraordinary, nor did it either embarrass or stir hissenses, that standing as she did before the moon and the little fires herbody showed in clear silhouette through her silken robe. Apparently thiswas her only garment. It made a pale nimbus about her. She seemed to thevague remnant of Kingozi's thinking perceptions like a priestess--herslim, beautiful form erect, her small head bound with the golden filletfrom which, he knew, hung the jewel on her forehead. As though meetingthis thought she raised both arms toward the moon, standing thus for amoment in the conventional attitude of invocation. Then she dropped herarms, and came back to Kingozi's side. 

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 theshadow. But on Kingozi's retina remained the vision of her as she was. Heshifted, caught his breath. 

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 struggledfor an appearance of calm. 

"Who are you?" he asked unsteadily. "You have never told me. "

"You have named me--Bibi-ya-chui--the Woman of the Leopards. "

She was smiling faintly, looking down at him through half-closed eyes. 

"But who are you? You are not English. "

"My name: you have given it. Let that suffice. Me--I am Hungarian. " Shestooped ever so slightly and touched the upstanding mop of his wavy hair. "What does it matter else?" she asked softly. 

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 ofthe _n'goma_, the drums seemed to be throbbing in his veins----

He leaped to his feet and seized her savagely by the shoulders. The softsilk slipped under his fingers. She threw back her head, looking at himsteadily. Her eyes glowed deep, and the jewel on her forehead. Kingozi waspanting. 

"You are wonderful--maddening!" he muttered. This sudden unexpectedemotion swept him away, as a pond, quiet behind the dam, becomes a flood. 

"I knew we could be such friends!" she said. 

And then one of those tiny incidents happened that so often change thecourse of greater events. In the darkness that still lingered the otherside of the camp an _askari_ challenged sharply some lurking wanderer. According to his recent teaching he used the official word. 

"_Samama!_" said he. 

The metallic rattle of his musket and the brief official challengeawakened Kingozi as would a dash of cold water. His instinct to crush tohis breast this alluring, fascinating, willing goddess of the moon was asstrong as ever. But across that instinct lay the shadow of a former day. Aclear picture flashed before his mind. He saw a man in the uniform of ahigh office, and heard that man's words of instruction to himself. Thewords had concluded with a few informal phrases of trust and confidence. While these were being spoken, outside a sentry had challenged:"_Samama!_" and as he moved, the metal of his accoutrements had clicked. 

With a wrench Kingozi turned, dropping her shoulders. He deliberately ranaway. At the edge of his own camp he looked back. She was still standingas he had left her. The moonlight, striking through the opening in thebranches, 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. Asthough she had only awaited his turning, she raised her hand in gravesalutation and disappeared. 

Kingozi was too restless, too stirred, to sit still. After a vain attemptto smoke a quiet and ruminative pipe he arose and began to wander about. The men looked up at him furtively from their little fires whereperpetually meat roasted. He strode on through the camp. His feet bore himto the narrow lane leading to the village. Down the vista he saw flamesleaping, and figures leaping wildly, too, and the drums beat against histemples. He turned back seeking quiet, and so on through camp again, andpast the Leopard Woman's tent. His mind was in a turmoil. No perceptionreached him of outside things--once the disturbance of human creatures waspast. His feet led him unconsciously. 

It was the old struggle. He desired this woman mightily. That he had beentotally indifferent to her before argued nothing. He had been suddenlyawakened: and he was in the prime of life. But the very strength of hisdesire warned him. If he had really been on a hunt for ivory--well--hewrenched his mind savagely from even a contemplation of possibilities. Still, it would be a very sweet relation in a lonely life--a women of thisquality, this desirability, this understanding, able to travel thewilderness of Africa, eager for the life, young, beautiful, tingling withvitality. In spite of himself Kingozi played with the thought. The feverwas in his brain, the magic of the tropic moon was flooding his soul. 

Some warning instinct brought him back to the world about him. His stepshad taken him down the cañon trail. He stood at the edge of the openplain. 

Facing him and not twenty yards distant stood a lion. 

The sight cleared Kingozi's brain of all its vapours. For the first timehe realized clearly what he had done. He, a man whose continued existencein this dangerous country had depended on his unfailing readiness, hisever-present alertness and presence of mind, had committed two of thecardinal sins. In savage Africa no man must at any time stir a foot intothe veldt or jungle unarmed; in savage Africa no man must go at nightfifty feet from a fire without a torch or lantern. 

By day a lion is usually harmless unless annoyed. Game herds manifest noalarm at his presence, merely opening through their ranks a lane for hisindifferent passing. But at night he asserts his dominion. 

Kingozi realized his deadly peril. The beast bulked huge and black--a wildlion is a third larger than his menagerie relative--looking as big as azebra against the moonlight. His eyes glowed steadily as he contemplatedthis interloper in his domain. After a moment he sank prone, extending hishead. The next move, Kingozi knew, would be the flail-like thrash of thelong tail, followed immediately by the rush. 

Nothing was to be done. The immediate surroundings were bare of trees, andin any case the lightning charge of the beast would have caught his victimunless the branches had happened to be fairly overhead. 

The glowing eyes lowered. A rasping gurgling began deep in the animal'sthroat, rising and falling in tone with the inhaling and exhaling of thebreath. This increased in volume. It became terrifying. The long tailstiffened, whacked first to one side, then to the other. The moment was athand. 

Kingozi stood erect, his hands clenched, every muscle taut. All his senseswere sharpened. He heard the voices of the veldt, near and far, and allthe little sounds that were underneath them. His vision seemed to piercethe darkness of the shadows, so that he made out the details of the lion'smane, and even the muscles stiffening beneath the skin. 

And then at the last moment a kongoni, panic stricken, running blind, itsnose up, broke through the thin bush to the left and dashed across thetrail directly between the man and the lion. 

African animals are subject to these strange, blind panics, especially atnight. The individual so affected appears to lose all sense of itssurroundings. It has been known actually to bump into and knock down menin plain and open sight. What had so terrified the kongoni it would beimpossible to say. Perhaps a stray breeze had wafted the scent of thisvery lion; perhaps some other unseen danger actually threatened, orperhaps the poor beast merely awakened from the horror of a too vividdream. 

The diversion occurred at the moment of the lion's greatest tension. Hisbody was poised for the attack, as a bow is bent to drive forth the arrow. Probably without conscious thought on his part, instinctively, he changedhis objective. The huge body sprang; but instead of the man the kongoniwas struck down!

Kingozi stooped low and ran hard to the left. When at a safe distance hestraightened his back, and set his footsteps rapidly campward. 

The incident had thoroughly awakened him. His brain was working clearlynow, and under forced draught. The magic of moonlight had lost its power. Habits of years reasserted themselves. His usual iron common senseregained its ascendency; though, strangely enough, there persisted in hismind a mystic feeling for the symbolism of this missed danger. 

"Settles it!" he said, in his usual fashion of talking aloud. "I'm on ajob, and I must do it. Came near being a messy ass!"

He saw plainly enough that a mission such as his had no place in it forwomen--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 timehe 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 allchance of going alone. 

The frosted moonlight still lay across the world. It meant nothing butillumination to Kingozi. By its light he discerned a paper lying against abush; and since paper of any sort is scarce, he picked it up. 

At camp he lighted his lantern and spread out his find on the table. Itproved to be a map. 

A glance proved to Kingozi that it was not his property. He remembered asudden wind squall early in the afternoon. Evidently it had swept theLeopard Woman's table. 

The map was in manuscript, very well drawn, and the text was German. Fromlong habit Kingozi glanced first at the scale of miles, then raised hiseyes 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. 

For it was a map of this very locality!

Kingozi examined it with great attention, finally getting out forcomparison his own sketch maps. The German map was a more finishedproduct; otherwise they were practically the same. Kingozi searched forand found records of the various waters along his back track. Each wasannotated in ink in a language strange to him--probably Hungarian, hereflected. At the dry _donga_ where he had overtaken and rescued theLeopard Woman's water-starved safari he found the legend _wasser_ also. 

"Explorations for this map made after the rains, " he concluded. 

Here the Leopard Woman had written the German word _nein!_ underscoredseveral times. 

So far Kingozi's sketches and the German map were the same. But the Germanmap furnished all details for some distance in advance. This village wasindicated, and the mountains, and plains beyond. The three practicalroutes were plotted by means of red lines. These lines converged at thefar side of the ranges, united in one, and proceeded out across theplains. Kingozi counted days' journeys by the indicated water-holes up toeleven. Then the map ceased; but an arrow at the end of the red line wasexplained by a compass bearing, and the name M'tela. And, as far asKingozi could see, the sole purport of the whole affair was not topographybut a route to the country of M'tela!

Here was a facer! As far as any one knew, the country he had justtraversed was unexplored. Yet here was a good detailed map of just thatroute. Furthermore, a copy was in the hands of this woman who claimed shewas out for sport merely, and had no knowledge of the country. Yes--shehad made just that statement. Of course she might be out merely foradventure, just as she said. If she were of prominence and influence, shemight easily enough have obtained a copy of a private map. But then whydid she pretend ignorance? She seemed never to have heard of the name ofM'tela; yet this map's sole reason for being was that it indicated atleast the beginning of a route to M'tela's country. 

Could she be on the same errand as himself?

That sounded fantastic. Kingozi reviewed the circumstances. M'tela was aformidable myth, gradually taking shape as a reality. He was reported as amighty chief of distant borders. Tales of ten thousand spears drifted backto official attention. Allowing the usual discount, M'tela still loomed asa powerful figure. Nobody had paid very much attention to him until thistime, but now his distant border had become important. Through it a newroad from the north was projected. The following year the route was to beexplored. The friendship of M'tela and his umpty-thousand spears becameimportant. His hostility could cause endless trouble and delay. Kingozi'spresent job was to lay the foundations for this friendship. 

"You have a free hand, Culbertson, " the very high official had said tohim. "We are not going to suggest or advise. Choose your own men; take asmany or as few as you please. Take your own time and your own methods. Butget the results. "

"I appreciate your confidence, sir, " Kingozi had replied. 

"You and that man Winkleman are the best hands on earth with natives, andwe know it. Requisition what you want. "

This woman was a Hungarian: she possessed a German official map. Could shebe on official business? It did not seem likely. Women are not much goodat 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, whyshould they not work together? Germany and England had an equal stake inthe opening of this new route. An amical Boundary Commission had justcompleted a satisfactory survey between the German and British EastAfrican Protectorates. But she had lied to him, and she had acted lies ofapparent ignorance! Why that?

Having examined the subject from all sides, and having discovered it asyet incapable of solution, Kingozi, characteristically, decided to goslow. If she were on the same mission as himself, that fact would developin due time, and then they could work together. If she were still on somemission, but a mission other than his own, that fact, too, would in duetime develop. If she were merely travelling in idle curiosity--well, sheought not to lie!

For Kingozi had changed his mind. No longer was he determined that shemust turn back at this point. Now he was equally determined that she mustaccompany him. 

"I'll keep an eye on you, young woman, " said he. "You pretend to be veryeager to go on with me. We'll see! But now you'll find it difficult toquit this game. You may get more of it than you bargained for. If you arereally out just for sport and curiosity, I'm sorry for you. But youshouldn't lie!"

He copied the map roughly; then returned it to the spot under the busheswhere he had found it. 

Next morning he announced to the Leopard Woman his changed decision. Hewas self-contained and direct. She smiled secretly to herself. She thoughtshe understood both the change of decision and the brusqueness. One wasthe magic of the tropic moon; the other was the shy, half-ashamed reactionof the strong man whose emotions have controlled him. The proof--that shewas going with him. 

She was wrong!

CHAPTER XIV

OVER THE RANGES

When the day came for departure the Leopard Woman was indisposed, andcould not travel. At the end of that period eight bags of _potio_disappeared. They had to be replaced. Kingozi occupied the time on thedetails of his preparations. Then three men deserted, and all loads had tobe redistributed. At last they were off. 

A horde of savages accompanied them at first. These dropped off one by oneuntil there remained only the guides appointed. The trail led steeplyupward. It soon shook free of the thorn tangle and debouched on grassyrolling shoulders from which a wide, maplike view could be seen of thecountry through which they had passed. Shortly they skirted a deep deftcañon in which sang a brook; and at its head came to a forest. The treeswere tall, their cover dense; long, ropelike vines hung in festoons. Itwas very still. A colobus barked somewhere in the tops; the small greenmonkeys swung from limb to limb, or scampered along the rope vines, chattering. Silent, gaudy birds swooped across dusky spaces. The drippingof water reached the ear; the smell of dampness the nostrils. 

This was as far as they went the first day. The climb had been severe; andat the end of three and a half hours the woman announced that she was doneup. Nothing remained but to make camp. This was done, therefore; and allthe afternoon Kingozi lay flat on the cot he had caused to be brought intothe open air, and blew smoke upward, and stared at the maze of limbs inthe forest roof. The Leopard Woman kept her tent; but he did not offer todisturb her. He was thinking. 

Next day they marched for hours through the forest, and at last came outon more rolling grass shoulders. Evidently this side of the mountains wasnot abrupt, but slanted off in a gentle slope to unknown distances. Therethe game began to reappear; and Kingozi dropped two hartebeeste for thesafari. Here Cazi Moto came up in great perturbation to announce that twoof the _memsahib's_ porters were missing. The little headman did notunderstand how it happened, as he had zealously brought up the rear. Unless, of course, it was a case of desertion. 

Kingozi looked thoughtful, then ordered camp to be pitched. Accompanied bySimba, Mali-ya-bwana, and three _askaris_ he took the back track. At theend 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, andwhen they had resumed their loads, the safari was ahead. Then they hadhastened, but the road had divided. They had taken the wrong fork. 

"Show me where the road divided, " ordered Kingozi. 

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 marchto a veritable fork. Kingozi examined the earth for tracks. 

"Could you not see that the safari had gone this way and not that way?" heasked. 

"Yes, _bwana_, " they said together; "we saw it after a little. That is whywe came back. "

Kingozi grunted, but said nothing. The nine men retraced their steps. Bothporters were on a broad grin, laughing and talking in subdued tones to the_askaris_. The _bwana_ strode on rapidly ahead. They followed at a littledogtrot, carrying their loads easily. 

At camp Kingozi ordered them to place the loads in place beneath thetarpaulin. 

"Simba, " said he in a casual voice, "these men get _kiboko_. "

"Yes, _bwana_. How many?"

"Fifty. "

The bystanders gasped, and the shining countenances of the culprits turneda sickly gray. Fifty lashes is a maximum punishment, inflicted only forthe gravest crimes. More cannot be administered without fear of graveconsequences. The offence of straggling is generally considered notserious. Even Simba was not certain he had heard aright. 

"How many, _bwana_?" he asked again. 

"Fifty, " repeated Kingozi tonelessly, and turned his blank, baleful glarein their direction. 

The punishment was administered. When it was finished the porters, shakinglike leaves, blankets drawn over their bleeding flanks, were brought toface the white man seated in his chair. 

"_Bassi_, " he pronounced. The word went out into a dead silence, so thatit was heard to the farthest confines of the hushed camp. "Let no manhereafter miss the trail. "

He arose and entered his tent. Cazi Moto was there, unfolding the canvasbath tub, laying out the clean clothes. He looked up from his occupation, his wizened face contorted in a shrewd smile. 

"No more will we make camp when the sun is only a few hours high, " hesurmised. 

Kingozi looked at him. 

"You and I have handled many safaris, Cazi Moto, " he replied. 

Delays from these causes ceased, but other delays supervened. Never werethe reasons for them attributable to accident; but they were more numerousthan ordinarily. Kingozi said nothing. 

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 adonkey procured from the _sultani_. The two necessarily held littleconverse during the day. At camp Kingozi had many tasks--camp to arrange, meat to procure, sick to doctor, guides to interrogate. Only at theevening meal, which now they shared, did he and his travelling companionresume their intimacies. 

The relation had developed into a curious one. For one thing, it was moreexpansive. They discussed many subjects of what might be called generalinterest, talking interestedly on books, world politics, colonialpolicies, even the larger problems of life. In these discussions theyexplored each other's intelligence, came to a mental approachment, a cold, clear respect for each other's capacity and experience. Never did theyapproach the personal. At no time in their acquaintance had they talked sounrestrainedly, so freely, with so much genuine pleasure; at no time didthey touch so little the mysteries of personality. 

If the Leopard Woman felt this, or wondered at the cloaked withdrawal, shegave no sign. Apparently she was all candour. She seemed to throw herselffrankly and with pleasure into this relationship of the head, to haveforgotten the possibilities so richly though so momentarily disclosed bythe magic of the moon. She lounged in her canvas chair, twisting her lithebody within her silks; she smoked her cigarettes; the jewel of changinglights glowed on her forehead; she talked in her modulated voice andquaint, precise English. The man's pulses remained calm. His eyes did notmiss the beauty of her form, as frankly defined beneath the silk as theforms of the naked _bibis_ of the village; nor the alluring paleness ofher face in contrast to the red lips; nor the drowning passion of her wideeyes. But they did not reach his senses. Were the insulation of his plainduty--which to Kingozi meant quite sincerely his whole excuse forexistence in this puzzling life--were this to be withdrawn--he never evencontemplated the thought. Reminders from that night of the moon preventedhim from doing so. 

After this fashion they came to the grass plains of the uplands. Hereensued more delays. These did not spring from delinquencies in the safari:the exemplary punishment assured that. But things broke, and things wereforgotten, and things had to be done differently. The guides, procuredwith difficulty from the little hunting peoples of the plain, disappearedat 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. 

Nevertheless, he made no attempts to separate the safaris. He had beenwatching closely. These difficulties, the delays, breakages, andabbreviations of day's journeys had, nine times out of ten, their originin the camp of the Leopard Woman. In ordinary circumstances he would haveput this down to inferior organization. But there was the mysterious, unmentioned map, whose accuracy, by the way, he found exact. Gradually hecame to the conclusion that the delays were not entirely accidental. Theconclusion became a conviction that the Leopard Woman was making as muchof a drag and as big a nuisance of herself as possible. 

Why?

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 hadpleaded to join forces with Kingozi. This puzzled him for some time. Thenhe saw. Of course she did not want to turn back. If, as he surmised, shehad some errand with M'tela, like his own, she would not want to turnback, but she would like a plausible excuse to separate from him once theranges of mountains were crossed. Why did she not drop off then on theexcuse, say, of the wonderful new hunting grounds? That would be simple. Kingozi concluded that she wished the initiative to come from him. And themore convinced he was that she wanted to get rid of him, the more firmlyhe resolved that she must remain. 

But it did make for slow travel. 

What of it? There was no haste. There was plenty of game, the days passedpleasantly, the evenings were delightful. A moonbeam flashed in his brainshowing him vistas----He firmly shut the window!

Certainly if Bibi-ya-chui harboured any active desire to drive Kingoziinto leaving her to her own devices, she concealed it well. Occasionallyin the evening, when he stared into the distance, she twisted herself tolook at him. Then her eyes widened, no one could have told with whatemotion. In her fixed stare could have been many things--or nothing. Didshe desire this man, as she had seemed to the night of the full moon, anddid she but bide her time, knowing this was not the moment? Did she desirethis man, and hate him because he had touched her only to turn away? Didthe very simplicity and directness of his nature baffle her? Did she hatehim for his mastering of circumstances but not herself? Any or all ofthese emotions might have lain beneath the smoulder in her eyes. One thingKingozi would not have seen, had he turned his head suddenly enough, andthat was indifference. But he continued to stare out into the veldt, andshe continued to stare at him; while around them the chatter of men, thewail of hyenas, the thunder of lions, the shrill, thin cries of nightbirds, and the mighty brooding silence that took no account of them allattended the African night. 

CHAPTER XV

THE SHARPENING OF THE SPEAR

Thus passed six weeks. By the end of this time the combined safaris hadprogressed out into the unknown country about a normal three weeks'journey. The rest was delay. 

They had ventured out into the plain as into an enchanted sea. Themountains had dropped below the horizon behind them; none had as yetarisen before. The veldt ran in long, low undulations, so that always theywalked up or down gentle slopes. It was as though a ground swell had setin toward distant, invisible shores. Here the short grass was still greenfrom the rains. Water lay in pools at the bottom of _dongas_. By this goodfortune travel was independent of the permanent water, and hence safe andeasy. Game was everywhere. Not for a single hour in all that six weekswere they out of sight of it. Scattered over the sward like deer in a packthe beasts grazed placidly in twos or threes, or in great bands. Withouthaste, almost imperceptibly, they drew aside to allow the safari to pass, and closed in again behind it. Thus the travellers were always the centreof a little moving oasis of clear space five hundred yards in diameter. Occasionally some unusual and unexpected crease in the earth or density ofbrush in the _dongas_ brought them in surprise fairly atop an unsuspectingherd. Then ensued a wild stampede. This communicated itself visually toall the animals in sight. They moved off swiftly. And then still otherremote beasts, unaware of the cause of disturbance, quite out of sight ofthe safari, but signalled by twinkle of stripe or flash of rump, also tookflight. So that far over the veldt, at last, the game hordes shifteduneasily until the impulse died. 

In this country were many lions. Most of the requisites of a lion werehere present--abundant game, water, the cover of the low brush in the_dongas_. Only lacked a few rocky kopje fastnesses to make it ideal; butthat lack could be, and was, overlooked. The members of the safari oftensaw the great beasts sunning themselves atop ant hills; walking withdignity across the open country; sitting on their haunches to stare withgreat yellow eyes at these strangers passing by. Here they had never beenannoyed or hunted; so here they had not become as strictly nocturnal asnearer settlement. In all their magnificence they stalked abroad, lords ofthe veldt. Kingozi's finger itched for the trigger. There is no moreexciting sport than that of lion shooting afoot. It is a case of kill orbe killed; for a lion, once the issue is joined, never gives up. He fightsliterally to the death; and when he is so crippled that he can no longerkeep his feet, he drags himself forward, and dies facing his opponentdauntlessly. No other beast furnishes the same danger, the same thrill. His mere appearance stirs the most sluggish spirit. 

"_Simba! Simba! Simba!_" the exclamation ran back the line of the safari, the sibilant hissed excitedly. Kingozi's heart bounded, and his knuckleswhitened as he gripped his rifle. 

"_Bwana hapana piga?_" Simba implored. "Is not _bwana_ going to shoot?"

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 thathe had insulated himself against the Leopard Woman's charms. 

In all this wide country were no settled habitations. Your African nativerequires hills or forests; he will not dwell on open plains at any greatdistance from his natural protection. A few people there were, hunters andnomads, living on wild honey and game. They were solitaries and livedwhere night found them, a little race, shyer than the game. For days anddays they flanked the safari before venturing to approach. Then one wouldappear a hundred yards away and open shouted negotiations with theporters. Perhaps after a few hours he would venture into camp. InvariablyKingozi interrogated these people. They stood before him palpitating likebirds, poised, tense for flight. He asked them of water, of people, ofroutes. By means of kind treatment and little presents he tried to gaintheir confidence. Sometimes thus he induced them to talk freely, but neverdid he succeed in persuading them to guide him. The mere fact ofinterrogation rendered them uneasy. Probably they could not themselveshave understood that uneasiness; but invariably at nightfall theydisappeared. They made fire by the rubbing of sticks, shot poisoned arrowsat game. 

From them Kingozi gained little but chatter. They knew accurately everypermanent water, to be sure. This information, in view of the abundance ofrain pools, was not at present valuable; nevertheless Kingozi questionedthem minutely, and made many marks on the map he was preparing. Always hementioned M'tela. At first he introduced the name at any time in thecourse of the interview; but soon he found that this dried up allinformation. So then he reserved that subject for the last. They wereafraid of the very syllables. They spoke them under their breaths, withside glances. M'tela was a great lord; a lord of terror, to be feared. 

At first the information was most vague. M'tela was over yonder--a longdistance--who knows how far? He possessed more or less mythicalcharacteristics, ranging from a height of forty or fifty feet down to themere possession of a charm by which he could kill at a distance. Then, asthe journey went on, the vagueness began to define. M'tela took form as abig man with a voice like the lion at night. His surroundings began to bedescribed. He lived in the edge of a forest; his people were many; he hadforty wives, and the like. Still it was far, very far. Kingozi concludedthat none of these people had in person visited the Kabilagani, but weretalking at second hand. 

And finally direct information came to him--in the form of fear. M'telawas a great lord, a lord of many spears, his hand was heavy, he took whathe 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 notfar: a three days' journey. Kingozi translated this into terms of safaritravel and made it about eight days. And, indeed, though no mountains asyet raised their peaks above the horizon, fleets of clouds setting sailfrom the distant ranges winged their way joyously down a growing wind. 

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 headachesto which physical exhaustions always made him subject had annoyed himgreatly of late, had rendered him irritable. His eyes bothered him--areflex from his run-down condition, he thought, combined with a slightinflammation due to the glare of sun or yellowing grass. Boracic acidhelped very little. The halo he had noticed around the light that eveningwhen they had first arrived at the _sultani's_ village returned. He saw itabout every campfire, every lantern flame, even around the, brightest ofthe stars. Altogether he approached the interview in a strongly impatientmood. 

The Leopard Woman lay abed beneath silken sheets. This was the first timeKingozi had ever seen sheets of any kind on any kind of a safari. Inreality the Leopard Woman was an enticing, luring vision, but Kingozi, through the lenses of his mood, saw only the silkiness and "sheetiness" ofthose covers. He began to comprehend the numerous tin boxes. 

"I'm going to leave you here and push on, " he began abruptly. "You will beall right with the men I shall leave you. When you feel able to do so, follow on. I'll leave a plain trail. "

She objected feebly; but immediately, seeing that this would not touch hismood, she asked him the reason of his haste. 

"I'll tell you, " he replied, "about a week distant is a chief namedM'tela. Did you ever hear of him?"

"M'tela?" she repeated the name thoughtfully. "No--but I don't know muchabout native tribes. "

Remembering her map Kingozi's lips compressed under his beard. Whatearthly object could she have in lying?--unless her errand was as secretas his own. 

"Well, he is described as being very powerful. And of course he will hearof us. It is well to make friends with him before he has had a chance tothink us over too long. I'll just go on and see him. "

"When will you start?" she asked, conceding the point without discussion. 

"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 feelingto-day?"

"Better. I wondered would you ask. "

He picked up her wrist. 

"Pulse seems steady. Any fever?"

"A little early and late. "

"Well, keep on with the hydrochlorate. You'll pull out in a day or so. "

But the Leopard Woman pulled out in a second or so after Kingozi'sdeparture. As soon as he was safe away, she threw back the covers andswung to the edge of the cot. At her call Chaké, the Nubian, appeared. Tohim she immediately began to give emphatic directions, repeating some ofthem over and over vehemently. He bent his fuzzy head listening, hisyellow eyeballs showing, his fang-like teeth exposed in a grin ofcomprehension. When she had finished he nodded, said a few words in hisown tongue, and glided from the tent. 

At his own camp he stooped and picked up a weapon. This was a spear, andbelonged to him personally. He had brought it all the way from Nubia. Itdiffered from any of the native spears of East Africa both in form and inweight. 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 keptthis 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 theporters' tents he took another spear, one typical of this country that hadbeen traded for only a day or two before. This Chaké considered clumsy andunnecessarily heavy. Nevertheless he bore it out into the long grass wherehe squatted in concealment; and, producing a stone, began painstakingly tosharpen the point and edges. As the slow labour went on he seemed to workhimself gradually to a pitch of excitement. A little crooning song beganto rise and fall, to flow and ebb. His eyes flashed, his back bent to atense crouch. Every few moments he dashed the spear against an imaginaryshield, poised it, thrust with it strongly, the chant rising. Thenabruptly his voice fell, his muscles relaxed, he resumed the rythmicalwhetting with the stone. 

All afternoon he squatted, passing the stone over the steel; polishinglong after the point and edges were as sharp as they could be made. Whenthe sun grew large at the world's edge he threw himself flat on his bellyand wormed his way to a position a few yards from Kingozi's tent. There heleft the spear. When he had gained a spot a hundred yards away, he aroseto his feet and walked quietly into camp. A moment later he was sitting onhis heels before his fire, eating his evening meal. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE MURDER

That night Kingozi was restless and could not sleep. His vision had beenblurring badly during the day, and now his eyeballs ached as though theyhad been seared. After his solitary evening meal he wandered aboutrestlessly, gripping his pipe strongly between his teeth. Shortly afterdark he entered his tent with the idea of turning in early; but the paindrove him out again. He remained only long enough to substitute hismosquito boots for his day boots. The Nubian, lying in the long grassbeside the newly sharpened spear, settled himself to wait. 

Kingozi's figure lost itself among the men of the camp. The strong, cleanwind that blew every day from distant ranges, was falling with the night. A breath of coolness came with it. Chaké shivered and wished he hadbrought his blanket. The time was very long; but back of Chaké weregenerations of men who had lain patiently in wait. He gripped the haft ofthe heavy spear. 

Black night descended in earnest. The little fires were dying down. StillKingozi, tortured by his headache, wandered about. Upward of two hourspassed. Then at last the crouching Nubian saw dimly the silhouette of thewhite man returning, caught in the glimmer of coals the colour of thekhaki coat he wore. The moment was at hand. Chaké arose to his knees, hisspear 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 beremembered that the cot was placed close to the wall, and that the body ofthe sleeper was defined against it. 

But unexpectedly the wearer of the khaki coat passed the tent door andproceeded to the rear where he reached upward to the rear guy rope wherehung a towel, or some such matter. This brought him to within four feet ofthe kneeling Nubian, the broad of his back exposed, both arms upraised. Without hesitation Chaké drove the spear into his back. The sharp longblade slipped through the flesh as easily as a hot knife into butter. Themurdered man choked once and pitched forward headlong on his face. Chaké, leaving the weapon, glided swiftly away. 

Once well beyond the chance of a fire glimmer he arose to his feet andquickly regained his own camp. This was exactly on the opposite side ofthe circle. The four men with whom he shared his tiny cotton tent, _askaris_ all as beseemed his dignity, were sound asleep. He squatted onhis 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 eyesglowed and flashed with a brooding lambent flame; and his wide nostrilsslowly expanded and contracted as though with some inner heaving emotion. 

Thus he sat for perhaps ten minutes. Then on the opposite side of thecircle a commotion began. Some one cried out, figures ran to and fro, commands were given, brands were snatched from dying fires, torches werelit. Elsewhere, all about camp, sleepers were sitting up, were asking oneanother what was the matter. The _askaris_ in Chaké's tent grumbled, andturned over, and asked what it was all about. Chaké shook his mop of hair, staring into the fire. 

From the Leopard Woman's tent came a sharp summons. The Nubian arose andstalked boldly across the open space. At the closed tent he scratched hisfingernail respectfully against the canvas. 

"_Karibu, karibu!_" summoned his mistress impatiently. He slipped betweenthe flaps and stood inside. 

The Leopard Woman was seated upright in her cot. On the tin box near thehead of the bed burned a candle in a mica lantern. By its dim light herface looked paler than ever, and deep black circles seemed to have definedthemselves under her eyes. The Nubian and the white woman stared at eachother for a moment. 

"It is done?" she asked finally, in a hoarse whisper. 

"It is done, _memsahib_, " he replied calmly. 

For another pause she stared at him, her eyes widening. "You have donewell. _Bassi!_" she enunciated at last. 

The tent flaps still quivered behind the Nubian's exit, when she threwherself 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, asthough she strangled for air. Her eyes were round and rolling. It was asif some mighty pent force were struggling for release. Suddenly therelease came. She began to weep, the tears streaming down her face. Shortly she commenced to mutter little short disjointed phrases in her ownlanguage. She wrung her hands. 

"I had to do it!" she gasped in German. "I had to do it! It was the onlyway! Tell me it was the only way!" she seemed to appeal to some oneinvisible. And then she resumed her lament in the Hungarian. 

But all at once something dried this emotion as the sear of a flame woulddry water over which it passed. The tears ceased, her eyes flashed, shejerked her body upright, listening. The commotion of pursuit andinvestigation was sweeping past her tent. 

Distinctly she heard the voice of Kingozi giving commands. 

An instant later Chaké darted into the tent and fell to the ground. Hisface was the sickly gray of a negro in terror, his eyes rolled in hishead, his teeth chattered, his every muscle trembled. 

"_Memsahib! Memsahib!_" he gasped. 

Her eyes were blazing with an anger the more fierce in that some of it wasreaction. 

"Fool!" she spat at him. 

"I killed him, _memsahib!_ I drove the _shenzi_ spear through his back! Ileft him lying there! He is a god! He has come back from the dead!"

"Fool!" she repeated, and swung her feet to the floor. "Stay here! Do notgo out!" she commanded, when she had assumed her mosquito boots. Sheslipped out between the tent flaps. 

Torches were everywhere flickering about. She stopped one of the men as hepassed. 

"A _shenzi_ has killed Mavrouki with a spear, " the man answered herquestion. 

She stood for some time watching the torches. Then she saw Kingozi himselftake his place by the pile of loads. 

"Fall in!" he commanded sharply. 

She returned to her tent. 

"Here!" she addressed the crouching Nubian. "It is as I said. You havebeen a fool. You have killed a porter by mistake. Now the _bwana_ hasordered to _fall in_. He wishes to see if any are missing. Go take yourplace, and answer to your name. "

"Oh, _memsahib!_ Oh, _memsahib!_" the man was groaning. 

"Go, I say!" she cried. "And hold up your head. If this is suspected ofyou, you will surely die. "

Kingozi called the roll by the light of a replenished fire. 

As each man was named, he was required to step forward to undergoKingozi's scrutiny. 

Most were uneasy, many were excited. Kingozi passed them rapidly inreview. But when Chaké came forward, he paused in the machine-likeregularity of his inspection. 

"Hullo, my bold buccaneer, " said he in English, "what ails you?"

The Leopard Woman had drawn near. Kingozi glanced at her over hisshoulder. 

"I know these Fuzzy-Wuzzies pretty well, " he remarked. "This man has theblood look in his eye. "

"He's been sick all day, " she ventured. 

"Sick, eh? Have you had him about you all evening?"

The Leopard Woman hesitated the least appreciable portion of a second. 

"No, " she answered, "he was sick; I let him sleep in his own camp. "

She withdrew a pace, almost as though washing her hands of the affair. Kingozi whirled and levelled his forefinger at the Nubian. 

"Why did you use a _shenzi_ spear?" he demanded. 

Over Chaké's face had come the blank, lifeless expression of the obstinatesavage. Kingozi recognized it, and knew that further interrogation was amatter of much time and patience. His eyes and head ached cruelly. 

"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-morrowwe will look into it. " He turned away without waiting to see his commandscarried 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 withguns--my men--to stand by my tent, one in front, one in the rear. "

The Leopard Woman watched his drooping, wearied form making its way to histent. He walked shuffling, almost stumbling. The habitual masking stare ofher eyes changed. Something softer, almost yearning, crept into them. Whenthe tent flaps had fallen behind him she threw both arms aloft in asplendid tragic gesture, careless of the staring men. Her face wasconvulsed by strong emotion. She turned and fled to her own tent, whereshe threw herself face down on her cot. 

"It must be done! It must be done!" she groaned to her pillow. 

CHAPTER XVII

THE DARKNESS

Kingozi retired again to his cot; but for a long time he could not get tosleep. Little things annoyed him. A fever owl in a thorn tree somewherenearby called over and over again monotonously, hurriedly, without pause, without a break in rhythm. Kingozi knew that the bird would thus continueall night long, and he tried to adjust his mind to the fact, but failed. It seemed beyond human comprehension that any living creature could keepup steadily so breathless a performance. Some of the men were chatting inlow voices. Ordinarily he would not have heard them at all; now theyannoyed him. He stood it as long as he could, then shouted "_Kalele!_" atthem 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. 

He was brought to full consciousness by the entrance of Cazi Moto. Heopened his eyes. It was still night--a very black night, evidently, fornot a ray of light entered the tent. 

"What time is it, Cazi Moto?" he asked. 

"Five o'clock, _bwana_. "

It was time to rise if a march was to be undertaken. Kingozi waited amoment impatiently. 

"Why do you not light the candle?" he demanded. 

"The candle is lighted, _bwana_" replied Cazi Moto, with a slight tone ofsurprise. 

Kingozi reached his outspread hand across to his tin box. His fingersencountered a flame, and were slightly scorched. He lay back and closedhis eyes. 

"The men have struck their tents?" he asked Cazi Moto after a moment. 

"Yes, _bwana_, all is prepared. "

Then there must be a dozen little fires, and the tent must be filled withflickering reflections. Kingozi lay for some time, thinking. He could hearCazi Moto moving about, arranging clothes and equipment. When by thesounds Kingozi knew that the task was finished and Cazi Moto about todepart, he spoke. 

"We shall not make safari to-day, " he said. Cazi Moto stopped. 

"_Bwana?_"

"We shall not make safari to-day. "

Cazi Moto's mind adjusted itself to this new decision. Then, withoutcomment, he glided out to reverse all his arrangements. 

Left alone Kingozi lay on his back and bent his will power to gettingcontrol of the situation. 

He was blind. 

At first the mere thought sent so numbing a chill through all hisfaculties that he needed the utmost of his fortitude to prevent aninsensate and aimless panic. Gradually he gained control of this. 

Then he groped for the candle. By experiment he found that at a distanceof a foot or so the illumination registered. Then there was no paralysisof the nerve itself. Desperately he marshalled his unruly thoughts, striving to look back into the remote past of his student days. Fragmentsof knowledge came to him, but nothing on which to build a theory of whatwas wrong. 

"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 concludewas that it was _not_ ophthalmia or trachoma. He had seen a good deal ofthese two plagues of Egypt, and their symptoms were absent here. Heconcentrated until his mind was weary, and his will slipped. At last indespair he relaxed and in an unconscious gesture rubbed his eyes with hisforefingers and thumbs. The contact brought him to with a jerk. 

The eyeballs, instead of feeling soft and velvety under the lids, were ashard as marbles. 

The shock of this phenomenon rang a bell in his memory. A distinct picturecame to him of his classroom and old Doctor Stokes. He could fairly hearthe slow, impressive voice. 

"There is one symptom, " the past was saying to him, "one symptom, younggentlemen, that is not always present; but when present establishes thediagnosis beyond any doubt. I refer to a peculiar hardening of the eyeballitself----"

"Glaucoma!" cried Kingozi aloud. 

His thoughts, like hounds on a trail, raced off after this new scent. Desperately he tried to recollect. In snatches he captured knowledge. Ofits accuracy he was sometimes in doubt; but little by little that doubtgrew less. To change the figure, the latent images of his past sciencedeveloped slowly, like the images on a photographic plate. 

Glaucoma--a hardening, an enlarging of the pupil, a change in the shapeand consistency of the iris--yes, he had it fairly well. Treatment? Let'ssee--an operation on the iris, delicate. That was it. Impossible, ofcourse. But there was something else, a temporary expedient, until thesurgeon could be reached--an undue expansion of the pupil----

"Why, " shouted Kingozi aloud, sitting up in bed. "Pilocarpin, of course!"

What luck! He fervently blessed the shortage of phenacetin that had forcedhim to take pilocarpin as a sweating substitute for fever. 

"Cazi Moto!" he called. Then, as the headman hurried up: "Get me the boxof medicines, quick!"

He waited until he heard the little man reenter the tent. 

"Place it here, " he commanded. "Now go. "

He groped for the case, opened it----

The bottles it contained were all of the same shape. He remembered thatthe pilocarpin was at the right-hand end--or was it the left? Hastily heuncorked the left-hand bottle, and was immediately reassured. It containedtablets. The right-hand bottle, on the contrary, held the typical smallcrystals. But a doubt assailed him. At the same end of the case were thereceptacles also of the atropin and the morphia. He remembered the LeopardWoman's remarking how much alike they all were. Kingozi seemed to seeplainly in his mind's eye the precise arrangement, to visualize even theexact appearance of the labels on the bottles--first the morphia, next toit the pilocarpin, and last the atropin. But while he contemplated thismental image, it shifted. The pilocarpin and atropin changed places. Andthis latter recollection seemed as distinct to him as the first had been. 

He fingered the three bottles, his brows bent. And across his mentaltravail floated another thought that brought him up all standing. 

Pilocarpin and atropin had exactly the opposite effect. 

"Here, this won't do!" he said aloud. "If I get the wrong stuff in my eyesit will destroy them permanently. "

He raised his voice for Cazi Moto. 

"When Bibi-ya-chui is awake, " he told the headman, "I want to see her. Tell her to come. "

CHAPTER XVIII

THE LEOPARD WOMAN CHANGES HER SPOTS

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 thatwas all. There was no pain. 

After a while Cazi Moto came to report that the Leopard Woman was out andabout. Kingozi's message had been delivered. 

"She says you shall come to her tent, " concluded Cazi Moto. Kingoziconsidered. To insist that she should come to him might lead to adownright refusal, unless he sent her word of his condition. This he didnot wish to do. His recollections of the classroom were now distinct. Heknew that the pilocarpin would restore his vision within a few hours; andwhile the alleviation would be temporary, it might last some months, oruntil he could get the proper surgical aid. Therefore it would be as wellnot to let the men know anything was even temporarily the matter. 

"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 thetree under which the Leopard Woman's tent had been pitched, he chanced a"good morning. " Her reply gave him her direction, and he seated himselffacing her. 

"I am stupid this morning, " he said. "Had a bad night. I wanted you to dosomething for me--read a label, as a matter of fact--and it never occurredto me that I might bring the label to you. Cazi Moto, go get my box ofmedicines. "

"I do not quite understand, " replied the Leopard Woman. "What is it youwould have me do?"

"Read a label--on a bottle. "

"Why is it you do not read it yourself?"

"My eyes do not focus well this morning. "

"I see, " she said slowly. "And you would have me indicate for you theremedy. That is it?"

"Yes, that is it. I've stupidly forgotten which the bottle is I want. "

He heard her moving slightly here and there. He strained his ears tounderstand what she was about. 

"You are blind!" she cried suddenly. 

"Temporarily--until I get my remedy. How did you know?"

"The look of you; and just this moment I thrust suddenly at your face. "

Cazi Moto arrived with the medicine chest which he placed at his master'sfeet, and opened. Kingozi extracted the three bottles. 

"The table is directly in front of you, " came the Leopard Woman's voice. 

He reached out, and after a moment deposited the vials on the table. 

"It's one of these, " he said, "but I don't know which. Just read them forme. "

"This remedy will cure you?"

"It will give me my sight. I have what is known as glaucoma. It is anundue expansion of the pupil. This remedy contracts it again. The onlyreal cure is an operation. "

A silence ensued. 

"Well?" asked Kingozi at length. 

"It interests me, " came her voice. "Suppose you had not this remedy?"

"I should remain blind, " replied Kingozi simply. 

"Until you obtained the remedy?"

"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 Itold you of. The other stuff--atropin--would blind me for sure!"

He thrust forward the three bottles. 

"Here, " he urged. 

"If you had not the remedy--this what-you-call--pilocarpin, what would youdo?" An edge of eagerness had crept into her tones. 

"Do?" said Kingozi, a little impatiently. "I'd streak it for a surgeon. Ihave no desire to lose my sight. "

Another pause. 

"I shall not read your labels, " she decided. Her voice now was low anddecided. 

"What!" cried Kingozi. 

He could hear the rustle of her clothes as she leaned forward. 

"Listen, " she said. "Why should I do this for you? You have treated me asa man treats his dog, his horse, his servant, his child--not as a mantreats a woman. Do you think because I have been the meek one, the quietone, that I have not cared?"

"But this--my sight----"

"Your sight is safe. You tell me so yourself. Go back to your surgeon. Andif you suffer inconvenience on the way--or pain--or humiliation--or anger--why that is what you have made me suffer. "

"I----?"

"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! Youare not a man--you are a fish of cold blood; a statue of iron! You havenothing but the head! You 'know nothing whatever about vegetables'--norwomen! Bah! Shall I read your labels and give you your sight? Ah, no! ah, _non!_"

Kingozi was stunned. Idly his hand slid forward across the table. Itencountered and closed upon her wrist. Instantly she struggled to be free, whereupon mechanically he tightened his clasp. She made a desperate effortto do something. His other hand sought hers. It grasped one of the threebottles, and even as he determined this fact, she tried again to hurl itto the ground. Frustrated, she relaxed her grip, and he released her. 

He could hear the fling of her body as she stood upright; could catch theindrawing of her breath. 

"Read them for yourself!" was her parting shot as she withdrew. 

Kingozi sat very still for a long time. Then he arose abruptly andcommanded Cazi Moto to return with him to his own camp. There he causedhis chair to be placed in the shade. 

"Cazi Moto, " said he, "listen well. You are my other hands; now you mustbe something else. I am sick in the eyes; I can see nothing. In one ofthese bottles is the medicine that will cure me, and in one of them is themedicine that will make me blind forever. I do not know which it is; and Icannot read the _barua_ because I cannot see it. And Bibi-ya-chui cannotread it. So you must be my eyes. Take a stick, and make on the groundmarks exactly like those on the _barua_. Make them deep, so that I mayfeel them with my hands. "

[Illustration: "'Cazi Moto, take a stick and make on the ground marksexactly like those on the _barua_. Make them deep, so that I may feel themwith my hands'"]

Cazi Moto sharpened a stick, smoothed out a piece of earth, and squattedbeside it. 

The Central African native is untrained either to express himself or tosee pictorially. We have been so trained since the building blocks of ourinfancy, so that a photograph of a scene is to us an exact replica of thatscene in miniature. As a matter of fact, it is only an arbitrary andconventional arrangement of black and white. A raw native sees nothingmore than that even in a portrait of him self. 

So Cazi Moto went at this task absolutely unequipped both of brain and ofhand. In addition the label was rather difficult. The printed body of itcontained the firm name of the chemists and their address; the drug itselfwas written, Kingozi remembered with exasperation, in his own not verylegible script. 

"Dashed fool!" he told himself aloud in his usual habit. "Deserve whatyou've got. Ought to have segregated the drugs--ought to have printed thelabels--no use thinking of that now. "

Cazi Moto worked painstakingly, his shrewd and wizened face puckered inabsorption. He accomplished a legible _Borroughs & Wellcome_ after manytrials. Then he proceeded with the script. It seemed impossible to make astart; he did not even begin at the beginning, but was inclined to viewthe 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 outdistinctly a capital M. He erased it with a sweep of the hand. 

"That part of the _barua_ again, " he ordered. 

After a time Cazi Moto repeated the feat. 

"Once more. "

This was quicker. 

Kingozi dropped that bottle into his side pocket with a sigh of relief. 

"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 aresomething alike. "

He had a new idea. For fifteen minutes he tried to get from Cazi Moto atfirst the number of letters on each label; and later, when the flowingscript proved this impractical, an idea of the relative lengths of thewords. Neither method was certain enough; another argument for printingyour labels, thought Kingozi. 

"We'll get it, old sportsman!" he cried aloud in English. "We'll try forthe first letter. "

He bent forward, but the lesson went no further. 

For an hour the Leopard Woman had been watching, curious as to what thesetwo were doing so quietly in the shade of the tree. At last she evidentlymade 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 shewitnessed the final triumph as to the morphine, and heard Kingozi's lastconfident speech. As he leaned forward to place another bottle for CaziMoto to copy from, she gathered her forces, rushed forward between them, snatched the vial, and dashed it violently against a rock, where itnaturally broke into innumerable pieces. Cazi Moto stared up at her, astounded into immobility. Kingozi, without a trace of emotion, leanedback in his chair. 

"I think I am losing my wits, " he remarked. "I have been criminally stupidthrough this whole affair. I might have foreseen something of the kind. "

She stood there panting excitedly, her hands clinched at her sides. 

"I will read your label for you now--the bottle you hold in your hand! Itis atropin--atropin--" She laughed wildly. 

"I thank you, madam, " he said ironically. 

"Now you must go back!"

"Yes. Now I must go back. I thank you. "

"You may well thank me. I have saved your life!" she cried hysterically, and was gone. 

Kingozi did not examine the meaning of this; indeed, it hardly registeredat all as it was to him evidently the product of excitement. 

He forgot even the scandalized Cazi Moto squatting at his feet. For a longtime he stared sightlessly straight ahead. He could not explain thiswoman. The whole outburst, the complete about-face in what had been theirapparent relations, overwhelmed him. He had had no idea of the slowdamming back of resentments; in fact, he really had no idea that therewere causes for resentment at all! He had done the direct, obvious, efficient thing in a number of instances when naturally her powers orabilities were inadequate. Characteristically, he forgot utterly the nightof the full moon!

First of all, it was evident that he must turn back if he was to save hiseyesight. As he remembered glaucoma, it ought to be surgically treatedwithin two months, at most. 

The second point was whether he could turn back. His mission was a simpleone. Would it wait? He could not see why not. He had been sent to gain thefriendship and active alliance of M'tela and his spears; and had beengiven _carte blanche_ in the matters of equipment, methods, and time. Inside a year or so the International Boundary Commission would be runningboundary lines through that country. Until then the Kabilagani could verywell go on as they probably had gone on for the last five hundred years. 

Very well; as far as his job was concerned, he could go back; as far ashis eyes were concerned, he must go back. 

Remained the problem of Bibi-ya-chui. 

Why was she in the country? For the same purpose as himself? It seemedunlikely; she appeared to have slight qualifications for such a task. Indeed, in the candour of his own inner communings Kingozi acknowledgedthat he and the German, Winkleman, alone could be held really fitted forthat sort of negotiation. But if she were? Why did she not say so? Theirobject would be the same. It was as much to Germany's interest to pacify, to make friendly this hinterland before the advent of the BoundaryCommission. All this was a puzzle. But there was the indubitable secretmap, and the indubitable concealment of purpose; and--to Kingozi's mind--the indubitable attempt to make travelling so tedious that he would splitsafaris and permit her to go alone. 

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 owncourse. Whatever she was up to, she did not intend to let him know aboutit; ergo it was something inimical to him, either personally orofficially. Probably personally, Kingozi thought with a grim smile. He wasno fool about women when his mind was sufficiently disengaged from otherthings; 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; andas a corollary the Leopard Woman must turn back with him!

CHAPTER XIX

THE TRIAL

He remembered Cazi Moto squatting, undoubtedly horrified to the core. 

"Cazi Moto, are you there?"

"Yes, _bwana_. "

"Where has the _memsahib_ gone?"

"Into her tent, _bwana_. "

"Listen well to me. She has destroyed the medicine. Now we must go back towhere _Bwana_ Marefu can come to fix my eyes. We shall go with all the menas far as the people of the _sultani_. There we will leave many portersand many loads. With a few men we will go to Bwana Marefu. When he hasfixed my eyes, then we will come back. I will fix a _barua_ for _Bwana_. This must be sent on ahead of us so he can come to meet us. Pick two goodmen for messengers. Is all that understood?"

"Yes, _bwana_. "

"Tell me, then, what is to be done?"

Cazi Moto repeated the gist of what had been said. Kingozi nodded. 

"That is it. "

"_Bwana?_" Cazi Moto hesitated. 

"Yes. Speak. "

"That woman. Shall she be _kibokoed_ or killed?"

Kingozi caught back a chuckle. 

"No, " he said gravely. "That will wait for later. But see that she iswatched; do not permit her to talk to her men; take all her guns andpistols, and bring them to me. "

"And this Chaké?"

"Of course. " Kingozi had really forgotten the man in the concentrations ofthe past few hours. "Let him be brought before me an hour before sundown. "

He found himself all at once overcome with sleep. Hardly was he able tostagger to his cot before he fell into a deep, refreshing slumber. 

At the appointed hour Cazi Moto scratched on his tent door. Kingozi aroseand walked confidently into the opening. Cazi Moto deftly indicated thelocation of the chair. Kingozi sat down. 

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 groupedsilently all the combined safaris. At his own elbows stood Cazi Moto andSimba--possibly Mali-ya-bwana. 

He allowed an impressive wait to ensue. Then abruptly he began hisinterrogation. He had been thinking over the circumstances, off and on, since last night, and had determined on his line. Ordinarily he would havecalled for witnesses of various sorts, but this would have been not at allfor the purpose of piling up evidence against the accused. That is thecivilized fashion; and is superfluous among savages. Kingozi's witnesseswould have been called solely for the purpose of furnishing information tohimself. He needed only one piece of information here, and that only onewitness could furnish him--the man before him. 

"Why did you kill Mavrouki?" he demanded. 

"I did not kill Mavrouki, _bwana_. "

"That is a lie, " rejoined Kingozi calmly. 

Chaké became voluble. 

"All night I sat by my fire cooking _potio_ and meat, " he protested. "Thisthe _askaris_ will tell you. And my spear lay in the tent with the_askaris_, " he went on at great length, repeating these two points, babbling, protesting, pleading. Kingozi listened to him in dead silenceuntil he had quite run down. 

"Listen, " said he impressively, "all these words are lies. This is whathappened: from one of the _shenzis_ you traded a spear, or a spear wasgiven you. Your own spear you left in the tent. All day you sat in thegrass and sharpened the _shenzi_ spear. " This was a wild guess, based onprobabilities, but by the uneasy stir in the throng Kingozi knew he hadscored. "Then at night you waited, and you speared Mavrouki with the_shenzi_ spear, and you left it in his back, for you said to yourself, 'men will think a _shenzi_ has done this thing. ' Then you went quietly toyour fire, and cooked _potio_, and your own spear was all the time wherethe _askaris_ were lying. "

Kingozi paused. He knew without Cazi Moto's whispered assurance that everyshot had told. It was a simple bit of deduction, but to these simplerminds it seemed miraculous. 

"Why did you wish to kill me?" he demanded. 

The Nubian, taken completely by surprise, began to chatter with fright. 

"I did not wish to kill you, _bwana_. I wished to kill Mavrouki. "

"That is a lie, " said Kingozi equably. "Why should you wait for Mavroukinear my tent? Was Mavrouki my gun bearer, or even my cook, that he shouldcome to my tent? Mavrouki was a porter, and if you wished to kill Mavroukiyou would wait by the porters' camp. "

He said these words slowly, without emphasis, in almost a detached manner. By the murmur he knew that this amazing reasoning had, as usual, struckthe men with deep astonishment. The African native is a simple creature. He waited a full minute. 

"Mavrouki wore a khaki coat. He and I were the only people of all thesafari who had khaki coats. That is why in the darkness you mistookMavrouki for me. That is why you killed Mavrouki. "

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. 

"Why did you wish to kill me?" he repeated. 

But again he sensed the fact that Chaké had taken refuge in the dullstupidity that is an acknowledgment of defeat. He knew that he would getno more replies. After waiting a few moments he went on. His voice hadbecome weighty with authority and measured with doom. 

"You will not tell. Let it be so. And now listen; and you other safari menlisten also. Because you have wished to kill me, you shall have twohundred lashes with the _kiboko_; and then you shall be hanged. "

A moment of horror was followed by a low murmur of comment. Not a manthere but realized that the unfortunate Nubian would never live to behanged. A punishment of twenty-five is as much as the most stoical canstand in silence; fifty as much as can be absorbed without permanentinjury; seventy-five an extreme resorted to on a very few desperately rareoccasions. Beyond that no experience taught the result. Kingozi's sentencewas equivalent to death by torture. 

He leaned forward in his chair, listening intently. He heard his victim'sgasp, the mutter of the crowd. They passed him by. Then he sank back, ahalf smile on his lips. He had caught the rustle of silks, the indignantbreathing of a woman. He knew that Bibi-ya-chui stood before him. 

"But this is atrocious!" she cried. "This cannot go on!"

"It shall go on, " he replied steadily. "Why not?"

"He is my man. I forbid it!"

"He is my man to punish when he attempts my life. "

"I shall prevent this--this--oh, this outrage!"

"How?" he asked calmly. 

She turned to the men and began to talk to them in Swahili, repeatingemphatically what she had just said to Kingozi in English, uttering hercommands. They were received in a dead silence. 

"You have heard the _memsahib_ speak, you men of the _memsahib's_ safari, "remarked Kingozi; then: "You, Jack, whom I made chief of _askaris_, youspeak. "

"What does the _bwana_ say of this?" came Jack's deep voice after amoment. 

"You have heard. "

"What the _bwana_ says is law. "

"Does any man of you think differently? Speak!"

No voice answered. Kingozi turned to where, he knew, the Leopard Womanstood. 

"You see?"

He heard only a choked sob of rage and impotence. After waiting a minutehe resumed:

"Do my command. Let three men, in turn, give the _kiboko_. You, Simba, seethat they strike hard. "

A faint clink of manacles indicated that the guards had laid hands ontheir victim. 

"Wait!" cried the Leopard Woman in a strangled voice. 

Kingozi raised his hand. 

"You--you brute!" she cried. "You shall not do this! Chaké is not toblame! It is I--I, who speak. I did this. I ordered him to kill you. Ialone should be punished!"

He drew a deep breath. 

"I thought so, " he said softly; then in Swahili: "These are my orders. Letthis man be well guarded. Let him be treated well, and given _potio_ andmeat. He shall be punished later. And now, " he turned to Bibi-ya-chui inEnglish again, "let us drop the excitement and the hysterics. Let us sitdown calmly and discuss the matter. Perhaps you are now ready to tell mewhy you have lied to me; why you have concealed your possession of asecret map and other information; why you have deliberately delayed mymarch; and, above all, why you have refused to aid my blindness and haveattempted to kill me. "

CHAPTER XX

KINGOZI'S ULTIMATUM

But she did not immediately answer this. She was on fire with a newthought. 

"This is another of your--what you call--traps!" she cried. "You neverintended to kill this man with the _kiboko!_ You intended to make mespeak--as I did!"

"That's as may be, " he rejoined. "At least I should have tried how far hewould have been faithful to you before telling what he knew--if you hadnot spoken. "

"He is faithful--to the death, " she asseverated with passion. 

"I am inclined to believe you are right. But that is neither here northere. I am waiting answers to my questions. "

"And you shall wait, " she took him up superbly. "I shall not answer!"

He shrugged his shoulders wearily. 

"That is your affair. I must confess that I am curious to know, however, why you did not shoot me. You have a pistol. "

"Your men took that pistol. "

"But not until late this morning. You had plenty of chance. "

"I could not, " she said, her voice taking on a curious intonation; "therewas no need. "

"You mean since I went blind there was no need, " he interjected quickly. 

She hesitated whether to reply. Then:

"Yes, that is it, " she assented. 

Kingozi leaned forward, gripping the arms of his chair. 

"I must tell you that my blindness is not going to help you in the way youbelieve, " he said. 

"What do I believe?" The animation of curiosity crept into her voice. 

"For one thing, you believe I am no ivory hunter; and you know perfectlywhy I am in this country. "

"Do I?"

"Do you not?"

"Well--yes. "

"Why is it, tell me. "

She pondered this, then made up her mind

"I do not know why not. The time for fencing is over. I know perfectlythat you are sent by your government to make treaty with M'tela. And Iknow, " she added with the graciousness of one who has got back to sureground, "that no one could do it better; and no one as well. "

"Except Winkleman, " said Kingozi simply. 

"Except Winkleman--perhaps. "

"As you say, the time for fencing is over, " pursued Kingozi. "That istrue. 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 theemploy of the German Government. "

She laughed musically. 

"_Bravo!_" she cried. "That is true. But go on--how do you make theguess?"

"Your maps, your--pardon me--equivocations, and a few other matters of thesort. Now it is perfectly evident that you are trying to forestall me insome manner. "

"Point number two, " she agreed mockingly. 

"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 thisunknown reason--that when smaller things fail----"

"You are of an interest--what smaller things?"

"Various wiles--some of them feminine. Delays, for example. Do you supposeI believed for a moment those delays were not inspired? That is why mypunishments were so severe--and other wiles, " he concluded vaguely. 

She did not press the point. 

"When smaller things failed, " he repeated, "you would have resorted evento murder. Your necessity must have been great. "

"Believe me--it was!" she answered. 

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 withfresh interest. 

"And when my eyes failed me, and you could have given me my sight by themere 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, youdestroyed it. I wonder whether that cost you anything, too?"

He sat apparently staring out into the distance, his sightless eyes widewith the peculiar blank pathos of the blind. The Leopard Woman's own eyeswere suffused with tears!

"I remember now something you said when you broke the bottle ofpilocarpin, " he said slowly. "I did not notice it at the time; now itcomes to me. 'I have saved your life, ' you said. I get the meaning of thatnow. You would have killed me rather than not have forestalled me; but theblindness saved you that necessity. You know, I am a little glad to learnthat you did not _want_ to kill me. "

"Want!" she cried. "How could I want?"

Kingozi chuckled. 

"You told me enough times just what you thought of me. "

Her crest reared, but drooped again. 

"No women likes to be treated so. And if you had your eyes, so I wouldhate you again!"

"I don't know why you want to prevent me from reaching M'tela, nor why youwant to reach him first, nor why in its wisdom your government sent you atall. I'd like to know, just as a matter of curiosity. But it doesn'treally matter, because it does not affect the essential situation in theleast. "

"You are going to M'tela just the same?" she inquired anxiously. 

"Bless you, no. I have no desire to go blind. It's the beastliestaffliction can come to an active man. And glaucoma is a tricky thing. I'dlike to get to McCloud tomorrow. But still you are not going to get toM'tela before me. "

"No?"

"I am sorry; but you will have to go with me. "

"You have the force, " she acknowledged after a moment. Somewhat surprisedat her lack of protest--or was it resignation to the inevitable?--Kingozichecked himself. After a moment he went on. 

"Somehow, " he mused, "in spite of your amiable activities, I have acertain confidence in you. It would be much more comfortable for both ofus if you would give me your word not to try to escape, or to go back, orto leave my camp, or cause your men to leave my camp, or anything likethat. "

"Would you trust my word?"

"If you would give it solemnly--yes. "

"But to do what I wished to do--as you say just now yourself--I am readyto use all means--even to killing. Why do you not think I would alsobreak, my word to do my ends?"

"I think you would not. "

"But do you think I would, what you call--consider your trust in me moregreat than my government's trust in me?"

"No. I do not think that either. "

"Well?"

"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. "

The Leopard Woman moved impulsively to his side. 

"Very well. I give it, " she said with a choke. 

"That you go with my safari, without subterfuge, without sending wordanywhere--in other words, a fair start afresh!"

"Just that, " she replied. 

"That is your word of honour?"

"My word of honour. "

"Give me your hand on it. "

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. 

But after a moment she tore herself away from him, panting. 

"This must not be!" she cried tragically. "I know not what I do! This isnot good! I am a woman of honour!"

Kingozi, his blind face alight, held out his arms to her. 

"Your honour is safe with me, " he said. 

But he had mistaken her meaning. Step by step she recoiled from him untilshe stood at the distance of some paces, her hands pressed against hercheeks, her eyes fixed on him with a strange mixture of tenderness, pity, and sternness. 

"What is it?" he begged, getting uncertainly to his feet. "Where are you?"

But she did not answer him. After a moment she slipped away. 

CHAPTER XXI

THE MESSENGERS

The return trip began promptly the following morning, and progresseduninterruptedly for two weeks. One by one they picked up the water-holesfound on the journey out. 

A few details had to be adjusted to compensate for Kingozi's lack of eyes. The matter of meat supplies, for example. 

"Good luck I gave some attention to your shooting, old sportsman, " heremarked 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 patienceand skill, fairly atop his quarry before letting off one of the preciouscartridges. 

In the matter of rhinoceros and similar dangers, they simply took achance. 

Kingozi marched at the end of a stick held by Simba. He gave his wholeenergies to getting over the day's difficulties of all sorts. Hisrelations with the Leopard Woman swung back. Perhaps vaguely, in the backof his mind, he looked forward to the interpretation of thatunpremeditated kiss; but just now a mixed feeling of responsibility anddelicacy prevented his going forward from the point attained. During themarch they walked apart most of the time. The weariness of forced travelabridged their evenings. 

Chaké walked guarded, and slept in chains. 

Whenever the location of water-holes permitted, the safari made longjumps. The two messengers sent out with a scrawled letter to DoctorMcCloud--whom they knew as Bwana Marefu--were of course far ahead. Withany luck Kingozi hoped to meet the surgeon not far from the mountainswhere dwelt the _sultani_ of the ivory stockade. 

Thus the march went through a fortnight. The close of the fourteenth dayfound them camped near water in a _donga_. The dim blue of mountains hadraised itself above the horizon ahead. This rejoiced the men. They wererunning low of _potio_, and they knew that from the _sultani's_ subjectsin these mountains a further supply could be had. As a consequence, anunwonted _kalele_ was smiting the air. Each man chatted to his next-doorneighbour at the top of his lungs, laughing loudly, squealing withdelight. Kingozi sat enjoying it. He had been so long in Africa that thishappy rumpus always pleased him. Suddenly it fell to silence. He cockedhis ear, trying to understand the reason. 

Across the open veldt two figures had been descried. They were comingtoward the camp at a slow dogtrot; and as they approached it could be seenthat save for a turban apiece they were stark naked; and save for a spearand a water gourd apiece they were without equipment. One held somethingstraight upright before him, as medieval priests carried a cross. Theturbans were formed from their blankets; mid-blade of each spear was woundwith a strip of red cloth; the object one carried was a letter held in thecleft of a stick. 

By these tokens the safari men knew the strangers to be messengers. 

The mail service of Central Africa is slow but very certain. You give yourletter to two reliable men and inform them that it is for _Bwana_ So-and-so. Sooner or later _Bwana_ So-and-so will get that letter. He is found bya process of elimination. In the bazaars the messengers inquire whether hehas gone north, south, east, or west. Some native is certain to have knownsome of his men. So your messengers start west. Their progressthenceforward is a series of village visits. The gossip of the countrydirects them. Gradually, but with increasing certainty, their coursedefines itself, until at last--months later--they come trotting into camp. 

These two jogged in broadly agrin. Cazi Moto and Simba led them at once toKingozi's chair. 

"These men bring a _barua_ for you, _bwana_, " said Cazi Moto. 

Kingozi took the split wand with the letter thrust crosswise in the cleft. 

"Who sent them?" he asked. 

"The _Bwana_ M'Kubwa[10], _bwana_. "

[10: _Bwana M'Kubwa_--the great lord, i. E. , the chief officer of anydistrict. ]

"Have they no message?"

"They say no message, _bwana_. "

"Take them and give them food, and see that they have a place in one ofthe tents. "

"Yes, _bwana_. "

"And send Bibi-ya-chui to me. "

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 andthick. He could feel the embossed frank of the Government Office. Thesituation was puzzling. It might contain secret orders, in which case itwould 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 coolshadow of the earth rise across his face as the sun slipped below thehorizon, he became aware also by the faint perfume that the Leopard Womanhad come. 

"I am in a fix, " he said abruptly. "Runners have just come in with thisletter. It is official, and may be secret. I am morally certain you oughtnot to know its contents; but I don't see how I am to know them unless youdo. Will you read it to me, and will you give me your word not to use itscontents for your own or your government's purposes?"

She hesitated. 

"I cannot promise that. "

"Well, " he amended after a moment, "you will stick to the terms of yourother promise--that you will not attempt to leave my safari or sendmessages until we arrive. "

"The fresh, even start, " she supplied. "That promise is given. "

He handed her the envelope. 

A crackle of paper, then a long wait. 

"I shall not read you this, " she said finally in a strangled, suppressedvoice. 

"Why not?" he demanded sharply. 

"It contains things I would not have you know. "

He felt the paper thrust into his hands, reached for her wrists, andpinioned them. For once his self-control had broken. His face was suffusedwith blood and dark with anger. 

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 involume. It was a riot. 

In vain Kingozi called for Cazi Moto and Simba. Finally he grasped his_kiboko_ and started in the direction of the disturbance. The LeopardWoman sprang to his side, and guided him. He laid about him blindly withthe _kiboko_, and in time succeeded in getting some semblance of order. 

"Cazi Moto! Simba!" he shouted angrily. 

"Bwana?" "Sah?" two panting voices answered. 

"What is this?"

They both began to speak at once. 

"You, Cazi Moto, " commanded Kingozi. 

"These men are liars, " began Cazi Moto. 

"What men?"

"These men who brought the _barua_. They tell lies, bad lies, and we beatthem for it. "

"Since when have you beaten liars? And since when have I ceased to dealpunishment? And since when has it been permitted that such a _kalele_ beraised in my camp?" pronounced Kingozi coldly. "For attending to suchthings 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 sixrupees each one. "

"Yes, _bwana_, " said Cazi Moto submissively. 

"These other men--what manner of 'lie' do they tell? Bring them here. "

The messengers were produced. 

"What is it you tell that my men beat you for telling lies? They must bebad lies, for it is not the custom of men to beat men for telling lies. "

"We tell no lies, _bwana_" said one of the messengers earnestly. "We tellthe truth. "

"What is it you tell?"

"We said what has happened: that across the Serengëtti came white men fromthe country of Taveta, and that these white men were many, and had many_askaris_ with them, and our white men from Nairobi met them, and foughtso that those from Taveta were driven back and some were killed. And downthe N'Gouramani River many of our white men with _Mahindi_[11] fought withstrange white men on a hill below Ol Sambu, but were driven off. And many_Mahindi_ are coming in to Mombasa, all with guns, and all the _askaris_are brought into Nairobi. And we told these safari men that the white menwere making war on the white men, so they cried out at this, and beat us. "

[Footnote 11: Mahindi--East Indians. ]

Kingozi had listened attentively. 

"Well, Cazi Moto?" he demanded. 

"But this is a lie; a bad lie, " said Cazi Moto, "to say that white menmake war on white men!"

"Nevertheless it is true, " rejoined Kingozi quietly. "These other whitemen are the _Duyches_[12], and they make war. "

[Footnote 12: Duyches--Germans. ]

He turned and walked back to his camp unassisted. He groped for his chairand sat down. His hand encountered the letter. 

"You do not need to read this to me now, " he told the Leopard Womanquietly. "I know what it tells. " He thought a moment. "It is clear to menow. You knew, this war was to be declared. "

She did not reply. 

"You know about _when_ this war was to be declared, " he pursued histhought. "Yes, it fits. "

Her silence continued. 

"You should have killed me, " he thought aloud. "That alone could haveaccomplished your mission properly. You might have known I would make yougo back, too. Or perhaps you thought you could command your own men inspite of me?"

"Perhaps, " she said unexpectedly. 

He raised his voice:

"Cazi Moto!"

The chastened headman came running. 

"To-morrow, " Kingozi told him, "the men go on half _potio_. There will beplenty of meat but only half _potio_. "

"Yes, _bwana_. "

"And if any man grumbles, or if any man objects even one word to what I door where I go, bring him to me at once. Understand?"

"Yes, _bwana_. "

"_Bassi_. "

"What is it you intend to do now?" asked the Leopard Woman curiously. 

"Go back, of course. "

"Back--where?"

"To M'tela. "

She gasped. 

"But you cannot do that! You have not considered; you have not thought. "

He shrugged his shoulders. 

"But it means blindness; blindness for always!"

"I know my duty. "

"But to be blind, to be blind always; never to see the sun, the wideveldt, the beasts, and the birds! Never to read a book, to see a man'sface, a woman's form; to sit always in darkness waiting--you cannot dothat!"

He winced at her words but did not reply. Her hands fluttered to hisshoulders. 

"Please do not do this foolishness, " she pleaded softly; "it is not worthit! See, I have given my word! If you had thought I would go ahead of youto M'tela, all that danger is past. A fresh start, you said it yourself. Do you think I would deceive you?"

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. 

"Listen, my dear, " he said gently, "this is a time for clear thinking. Mycountry is at war with Germany; and my whole duty is to her. You are anAustrian. "

"My country, too, is at war, " she said unexpectedly. 

"Ah, you knew that would happen, too, " he said after a startled pause. "Iknow only this: that if in times of peace it was important to mygovernment that M'tela's friendship be gained, it is ten times asimportant in time of war. I must go back and do my best. "

"But why?" she interjected eagerly. "This savage tribe--it is in theremote hinterland; it knows nothing of the white man or the white man'squarrels. What difference can it make?"

"That is not my affair. For one thing, he is on the border. "

"But what difference of that? The border means nothing. The fate of theircolonies will be fought in Europe, not here. What happens to this countrydepends on who wins there below. "

"Can you state positively of your own knowledge that no invasion ormovement of German troops is planned across M'tela's country? On yoursacred word of honour?" propounded Kingozi suddenly. 

"On my word of honour, " she repeated slowly, "no such movement. "

"Do you know what you are talking about?"

She was silent. 

"It doesn't sound reasonable--an invasion from that quarter--what couldthey gain either on that side or on this?" Kingozi ruminated. A suddenthought struck him. "And that there is no reason whatever, from my pointof view as a loyal British subject, against my going out at this time? Onyour word?"

"Oh!" she cried distressedly, "you ask such questions! How can Ianswer----"

He stopped her with grave finality. 

"That is sufficient. I go back. "

She did not attempt to combat him. 

"I have done my duty, too, " she said dully. "Mine is not the Vienneseconscience. My parole; I must take that back. From to-morrow I take itback. "

"I understand. I am sorry. To-morrow I place my guard. "

"Oh, why cannot you have the sense?" she cried passionately. "I cannotbear it! That you must be blind! That I must kill you if I can, oncemore!"

Kingozi smiled quietly to himself at this confession. 

"So you would even kill me?" he queried curiously. 

"I must! I must! If it is necessary, I must! I have sworn!"

"Don't you suppose I shall take precautions?"

"Oh, I hope so! I do hope so!" she cried. 

Her distress was so genuine, her unconsciousness of the anomaly of herattitude so naïve that Kingozi forbore even to smile. 

"I must go on, " he concluded simply. 

CHAPTER XXII

THE SECOND MESSENGERS

The return journey began. A remarkable tribute to Kingozi's influence, notonly over his own men, but over those of the new safari, might have beenread from the fact that there was brought for correction not one grumble, either over the halving of the _potio_ or the apparently endless counter-marching. As far as the white members were concerned the journey was oneof doggedness and gloom. Kingozi's strong will managed to keep to theforeground the details of his immediate duty; but to do so he had to sinkall other considerations whatever. The same effort required to submergeall thought of the darkened years to come carried down also everyrecollection of the past. The Leopard Woman ceased to exist, not becauseshe had lost importance, but because Kingozi's mind was focussed on asingle point. 

And she. Perhaps she understood this; perhaps the tearing antagonism ofher own purposes, duties, and desires stunned or occupied her--who knows?The outward result was the same as in the case of her companion. Theywalked apart, ate apart, lived each in his superb isolation, going forwardlike sleep-walkers to what the future might hold. 

Thus they travelled for ten days. In mid-march, then, Cazi Moto came totell Kingozi that two more messengers had arrived. 

"They are not people of our country, " he added. "They are _shenzis_ suchas no man here ever saw before. "

"What sort of _shenzis?_"

"Short, square men. Very black. Hair that is long and stands out like alittle tree. "

"What do they say?"

"_Bwana_, they speak a language that no man here understands. And this isstrange: that they do not come from the direction of Nairobi. "

"Perhaps they are men from M'tela. "

"No, _bwana_, that cannot be, for they carry a _barua_. They came from awhite man. "

"That is strange, very strange, " said Kingozi quickly. "I do notunderstand. Is there water near where we stand?"

"There is the water of the place we called _Campi ya Korungu_ when wepassed before. "

"Make camp there. "

"The sun is at four hours[13], _bwana_. "

[Footnote 13: 10:00 o'clock. ]

"It makes no difference. "

When camp had been pitched Kingozi caused the new messengers to be broughtbefore him. A few moments' questioning elicited two facts: one, that thereexisted no medium of communication known to both parties; two, that thestrangers were from some part of the Congo basin. The latter conclusionKingozi gained from catching a few words of a language root known to him. He stretched his hand for the letter. 

It was in a long linen envelope, unsealed, and unembossed. 

Not from the government. He unfolded the sheets of paper and ran hisfingers over the pages. Written in pencil; he could feel the indentationswhere the writer had borne down. Some private individual writing him fromcamp on the Congo side. Who could it be? Kingozi's Central Africanacquaintance was wide; he knew most of the gentlemen adventurers roamingthrough that land of fascination. A good many were not averse to ivorypoaching; and the happy hunting ground of ivory poaching was at that timethe French Congo. It might be any of them. But how could they know of hiswhereabouts in this unknown country? And how could they know he was inthis country at all? These last two points seemed to him important. Suddenly he threw his head back and laughed aloud. 

"Self-centred egotist!" he addressed himself. "Cazi Moto, tell Bibi-ya-chui I wish to see her. "

Cazi Moto departed to return immediately with the Leopard Woman who, atthis hour, was still in her marching clothes. If she felt any surprise atthis early abandonment of the day's march she did not show it. Two_askaris_, confided with the task of guarding her, followed a few paces tothe rear. She glanced curiously at the bushy savages. 

"Here, " said Kingozi, holding out the letter, "is a _barua_ for you--fromyour friend Winkleman in the Congo. "

The shock of surprise held her speechless for a moment. 

"Your blindness is well! You can see!" she cried then. 

Kingozi raised his head sharply, for there was a lilt of relief andgladness in her voice. 

"No, " he answered, "just ordinary deduction. Am I right?"

He heard her slowly unfolding the paper. 

"Yes, you are right, " she said in sober tones, after a moment. She uttereda happy exclamation, then another; then ran to his side and threw her armsaround his neck in an impulsive hug. Kingozi remembered the waiting menand motioned them away. She was talking rapidly, almost hysterically, aspeople talk when relieved of a pressure. 

"Yes, it is from Winkleman. He has come in from the Congo side. When thisletter was written he was only ten days' march from M'tela. "

"How do you know that?" interjected Kingozi sharply. 

"Native information, he says. Oh, I am so glad! so glad! so glad!"

"That was the plan from the start, was it?" said Kingozi. "I don't knowwhether it was a good plan or that I have been thick. My head is in rathera whirl. It was Winkleman right along, was it?"

She laughed excitedly. 

"Oh, such a game! Of course it was Winkleman. Did you think me one to besent to savage kings?"

"It didn't seem credible, " muttered Kingozi. "It is a humiliatingquestion, but seems inevitable--were you actually sent out by yourofficials merely to delay _me?_"

"So that Winkleman might arrive first--surely. "

"I see. " Kingozi's accent was getting to be more formally polite. "But whyyou? Why did not your most efficient employers dispatch an ordinaryassassin? I do not err in assuming that you all knew that this war was tobe declared at this time. "

"That is true. " Her voice still sang, her high spirits unsubdued by hisveiled sarcasm. 

"Then since it is war, why not have me shot and done with it? Why send awoman?"

"That was arranged, truly. A man of the Germans was following you. He wasas a sportsman, for it would not do to rouse suspicion. Then he had anaccident. I was in Nairobi. I heard of it. I did not know you, and thisGerman did not know you. It seemed to us very simple. I was to followuntil I came up with you. Then I was to delay you until I had word thatWinkleman had crossed the _n'yika_. "

"All very simple and easy, " murmured Kingozi. 

"It was not simple! It was not easy!" she cried in a sudden flash ofresentment. "You are a strange man. When you go toward a thing, you seedown a narrow lane. What is either side does not exist. " Her voicegradually raised to vehemence. "I am a woman. I am weak and helpless. Doyou assist me, comfort me, sustain me in dreadful situation? No! You marchon, 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 Ihate you! Then I see that I am wrong. You have chivalry, you are a truegentleman; 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 oneside 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 savagedrums throb, throb like hearts of passion, and the bul-buls sing in thebush--and I know I am beautiful, and I know men, and almost I think youlook one side, and that I win!"

"So all that was a game!" commented Kingozi. 

"A game? But yes--then!"

"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--myfriend?" she commented, her manner falling from vehemence to sadness. "IfI could do that, what else would matter!" She paused; then went on in asubdued voice: "But even then your glance but wavered. You are a strongman; and you are a victim of your strength. When an idea grips hold ofyou, you know nothing but that. And so I saw the delaying of you was notso 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. 

Kingozi was staring in her direction almost as though he could see. 

"Why do you tell me all this?" he asked at length. 

"I want you to know. And I am so glad!" The lilt had crept back into hervoice. 

"I congratulate you, " he replied drily. 

"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 yourdoctor, who will arrange your eyes. "

"Why?" asked Kingozi. 

"Why!" she repeated, astonished. "But it is 'why not!' Listen! Have youthought? Winkleman is now but a week's march from M'tela. And here, wherewe stand, it is perhaps twenty days, perhaps more. Winkleman would arrivenearly two weeks ahead of you. Tell me, how long would it take you to winM'tela's friendship so it would not be shaken?"

Kingozi's face lit with a grim smile. 

"A week, " he promised confidently. 

"You see! And Herr Winkleman is equal to you; you have said so yourself. Is not it so?"

"It's so, all right. "

"Then--you see?"

"I see. "

"Then we shall go back to the doctor. Oh, do you not see it is for that Iam glad--truly, truly! You must believe me that!"

"I believe you, " said Kingozi. "Nevertheless, I do not think I shall goback. "

"But that is madness. You cannot arrive in time. And it is to lose youreyes all for nothing, for a foolish idea that you do your duty!"

Kingozi shook his head. She wrung her hands in despair. 

"Oh, I know that look of you!" she cried. "You see only down your narrowlane!"

CHAPTER XXIII

THE COUNCIL OF WAR

That evening Kingozi called to him Cazi Moto, Simba, and Mali-ya-bwana. Hecommanded them to build a little fire, and when the light from the leapingflames had penetrated his dull vision, he told them to sit down beforehim. Thus they knew that a serious council was intended. They squatted ontheir heels below the white man in his chair, and looked up at him withbright, devoted eyes. 

"Listen, " he said. "The matter is this: the _Inglishee_ are at war withthe _Duyche_. Over from the Congo comes a _Duyche_ known as _Bwana_Nyele. [14] It is his business to reach this _shenzi_ king, M'tela, andpersuade M'tela to fight on the side of the _Duyche_. It is our businessto reach M'tela and persuade him to fight on the side of the _Inglishee_. Is that understood?"

[Footnote 14: _Bwana_ Nyele--the master with the mane, i. E. , beard orhair. ]

"It is understood, _bwana_" said they. 

"But this _Duyche, Bwana_ Nyele, is only one week's march from M'tela; andhe undoubtedly has many gifts for M'tela and the Kabilagani. And we aremany days' safari distant, and I am blind and cannot hurry. " he threeuttered little clucks of sympathy and interest. 

"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 meto 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 towhere _Bwana_ Nyele is marching. These two strange _shenzis_ will guideyou. Then when you are near the safari of _Bwana_ Nyele you must arrangeso that these _shenzis_ can have no talk with any of the safari of _Bwana_Nyele. That is understood?"

"Yes, _bwana_, " said Simba. "Do we kill these _shenzis?_"

"No, do not kill them. Tie them fast. "

"Yes, _bwana_, and then?"

"This is the most difficult. You must get hold of _Bwana_ Nyele, and youmust tie him fast also, and keep him from his safari. He is a_m'zungu_[15], yes--but he is a _Duyche_, and my enemy, and these thingsare right, because I command it. "

[Footnote 15: _M'zungu_--white man. ]

"Yes, _bwana_. "

"Then you must keep _Bwana_ Nyele and these two _shenzis_ close in camp, hidden where their safari cannot find them. And after two weeks you mustsend 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. "

"Mali-ya-bwana, myself, six men and these _shenzis_ travel to where thesafari of _Bwana_ Nyele marches. When we are near that safari we tie upthe two _shenzis_. Then we get _Bwana_ Nyele and tie him up in a secretcamp. Then after two weeks we send two men to tell the _bwana_ where weare. But, _bwana_, how do we get _Bwana_ Nyele?"

"That I will tell you soon. One thing you forgot: you must reach the_Duyche_ before he gets into M'tela's country. This means travel night andday--fast travel. Can this be done?"

"We shall pick good men, _bwana_, runners of the Wakamba. We shall do ourbest. "

"Good. Each man four days' _potio_, and what biltong he can use. Simba, take my small rifle and fifty cartridges. Take some snuff, beads, andwire--only a little--to trade for _potio_ if you meet with other people. Understood?"

"Yes, _bwana_. "

"Cazi Moto, " he directed, "bring me the small box of wood from my_sandoko_. "

He slid the cover off this box when it was delivered into his hands, fumbled a moment, and held up an object. 

"What is this?" he asked. 

"It is a bone, _bwana_. "

"Yes, it is a bone; but it is more. It is a magic. With this you will take_Bwana_ Nyele. "

He could sense the stir of interest in the three men before him. 

"Listen carefully. This is what you must do. When you have come near tothis safari, you must follow it until it has put down its loads and isjust about to make camp. Not a rest period on the road; not after camp ismade--just at the moment when the men begin to untie the loads, when theybegin to pitch the tents. That is the magic time. Understand?"

"Yes, _bwana_, " they chorused breathlessly. 

"Simba must be ready. He must take off his clothes, and he must oil hisbody and paint it, and put on the ornaments of a _shenzi_ of this country. For that purpose he must take with him the necklace, the armlets, anklets, and belt that I traded for with the _shenzis_, and which Cazi Moto willget from my tent. Do you know the style of painting of these _shenzis_ ofthe plains, Simba?"

"Yes, _bwana_. "

"It is important that you make yourself a _shenzi_. This magic is a badmagic otherwise. Then at the moment I have named, Simba as a _shenzi_ willtake this magic bone and hold it out to _Bwana_ Nyele saying nothing. _Bwana_ Nyele will say words, perhaps in Swahili which Simba willunderstand; perhaps in some other language which he will not understand. Simba must point thus; and then must start in that direction. _Bwana_Nyele will follow a few steps. Then Simba will say: 'Many more, _bwana_, over there only a little distance. '" Kingozi uttered this last sentence inatrocious Swahili. "You must say it in just that way, like a _shenzi_. Sayit. "

Simba repeated the words and accent. 

"Yes, that is it. Then say nothing more, no matter what he asks; and donot let him touch the magic bone. Point. He will follow you; and when hehas followed out of sight of the safari you will all seize him and tie himfast. The rest is as I have commanded. "

"How does _bwana_ know how these things will happen thus?" breathed Simbain awestricken tones. 

"It is a magic, " replied Kingozi gravely. 

Over and over he drilled them until the details were thoroughlyunderstood. Then he dismissed them and leaned back with a sigh. The planwas simple, but ought to work. At the moment of making camp Winklemanwould 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 wouldbe exceedingly busy. And no fear about the interest and cupidity! The"magic" bone Kingozi had confided to Simba was a fragment of a Pleistocenefossil. Kingozi himself valued it highly, but he hoped and expected to getit back. It made excellent bait, which no scientist could resist. Ofcourse there might be a second white man with Winkleman, but from thereported size of the latter's safari he thought not. All in all, Kingozihad great reliance in his magic. 

At the end of fifteen minutes Simba came to report. 

"All is ready, _bwana_, " he said, "and we start now. But if _bwana_ couldlet me take a lantern, which I have in my hand, we could travel also atnight. "

The lantern, as Kingozi well knew, was not for the purpose of castinglight in the path, but as some slight measure of protection against lions. 

"Let me have it, " he ordered. It was passed into his hands, and proved tobe one of the two oil lanterns kept for emergencies. 

But Kingozi sent the headman for one of the candle lanterns in everydayuse, and a half-dozen short candles. 

"These are better, " he said; "and _qua heri_, Simba. If you do thesethings well, large _backsheeshi_ for you all. "

"_Qua heri, bwana_" said Simba, and was gone. 

CHAPTER XXIV

M'TELA'S COUNTRY

To the bewilderment of the Leopard Woman the pace of the safari nowslackened. Heretofore the marches had been stretched to the limit ofendurance; now the day's journey was as leisurely as that of a sportsman'scaravan. It started at daybreak, to be sure, but it ended at noon, unlessexigencies of water required an hour or two additional. As a matter offact, Kingozi knew that he had done everything possible. If Simba & Co. Succeeded, then there was no immediate hurry; if they failed, hurry wouldbe useless. 

Bibi-ya-chui noticed the absence of two such prominent members of thesafari as Simba and Mali-ya-bwana, of course, but readily acceptedKingozi's explanation that he had sent them "as messengers. "

The little safari for the third time crawled its antlike way across theimmensities of the veldt. Cazi Moto managed to keep them supplied withmeat, but at an excessive expenditure of cartridges. As he used theLeopard Woman's rifle, this did not so much matter, for she was abundantlysupplied. At last the blue ranges rose before them; each day's journeydefined their outlines better. The foothills began to sketch themselves, to separate from the ranges, finally to surround the travellers with thelow swells of broken country. Running water replaced the still water-holes. Cazi Moto reported herds of goats in the distance. One eveningseveral of the goatherds ventured into camp. They spoke no Swahili, but atthe name M'tela they nodded vigorously, and at the mention of Kabilaganithey pointed at their own breasts. 

"I wish I had eyes!" cried Kingozi petulantly. "What kind of people arethey?"

The Leopard Woman told him as best she could--tall, well-formed, copper inhue, of a pleasing expression, clad scantily in goat skins. 

"Their ornaments, their arms?" cried Kingozi with impatience. 

"They are poor people, " replied Bibi-ya-chui. "They have armlets of ironbeaten out, and necklaces of shell fragments or bone. They carry spearswith a short blade, broad like a leaf. "

"Their armlets are not of wire? They have no cowrie shells?"

"No, it is beaten iron----"

"Good!" cried Kingozi. "There has been little or no trading here!"

One of the goatherds went with them as guide to M'tela. 

"Without doubt, " Kingozi surmised, "others have run on to warn M'tela ofour coming. "

Their way led on a gentle, steady up grade without steep climbs. Thehills, at first only scattered, low hummocks, became higher, morenumerous, closed in on them; until, before they knew it, they foundthemselves 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. 

"Then we are due for a climb, " sighed Kingozi. "These native tracks neverhunt for a grade! When they want to go up, why up they go!"

But the head of the cañon, instead of stopping against the wall, bentsharply to the left. A "saddle" was disclosed. 

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 ropevines, and the sudden remoteness of glimpsed skies. The earth was soft andmoist under foot; so the dampness of it rose to the nostrils. Vines andhead-high bracken and feather growths covered the ground. In every shallowravine were groves of tree ferns forty feet tall. A silence dwelt there, adifferent silence from that of the veldt at night; compounded of a fewsimple elements, such as the faint, incessant drip of hidden waters andoccasional loud, hollowly echoing noises such as the bark of a colobus orthe scream of a hyrax. There were birds, rare, flashing, brilliant, furtive birds, but they said nothing. 

Through this forest on edge the path led steeply upward. Sometimes it wasalmost perpendicular; sometimes it took an angle; sometimes--but rarely--it paused at a little ledge wide enough to rest nearly the whole safari atonce. 

For an hour and a half they climbed, then topped the rim of the escarpmentand emerged from the forest at the same time. 

Immediately they were a thousand leagues from the Africa they knew. Agently rolling country stretched out before them with sweeps of greengrass shoulder high, and compact groves of trees as though planted. Formiles it undulated away until the very multitude of its low, peacefulhills shut in the horizon. Cattle grazed in the wide-flung hollows, andlittle herds of game; goats and sheep dotted the hills. The groves oftrees were very green. Everything breathed of peace and plenty. Almostwould one with proper childhood recollections listen for a church-goingbell, search for spires and cottage roofs among the trees. Slim columns ofsmoke rose straight into the motionless air. The very sun seemed to haveabated its African fierceness, and to have become mild. 

Some of these things Kingozi learned from Cazi Moto; some from the LeopardWoman; each after his kind. 

About a half-mile away a number of warriors in single file walked acrossthe wide valley and disappeared in the forest to the left. They carriedheavy spears and oval shields painted in various designs. A fillet boundlong ostrich plumes that slanted backward on either side the head; and asthey walked forward in the rather teetery fashion of the savage dandythese plumes waved up and down in rhythm. 

"M'tela, " said the _shenzi_ goatherd waving his hand abroad. 

They camped at the edge of a pleasant grove near running water. The donkeythat the Leopard Woman rode fell to the tall lush grasses with athankfulness beyond all expression. All the safari was in high spirits. They saw _potio_ in sight again; and, immediately, long grass for beds. 

Visitors came in shortly--a dozen armed men, like the warriors seenearlier in the day, and a dignified older man who spoke a sufficientSwahili. Kingozi received these in a friendly fashion, did not permit themto sit, but at once began to cross-question them. The Leopard Womanemerged from her tent. 

"Stay where you are, " Kingozi called to her in decided tones. "You must inthis permit me to judge of expediencies. I forbid you to hold anycommunication with these people. I hope you will not make it necessary forme to take measures to see that my wishes are carried out. "

She showed no irritation, not even at the "forbid, " but smiled quietly, and without reply returned to her tent. 

"Yes, " said the old man, "this was M'tela's country, these were M'tela'speople. " He disclaimed having been sent by M'tela. 

At this point Kingozi, apparently losing all interest, dismissed them intothe hands of Cazi Moto. The latter, previously instructed, took his gueststo his own camp. There he distributed roast meat, one _balauri_ of coffeeto the old man, and many tales, some of them true. These people had neverbefore laid eyes on a white man, but naturally, at this late date inAfrican history, all had heard more or less of the phenomenon. Cazi Motofound that the distinction between _Inglishee_ and _Duyche_ was known. Heleft a general impression that Kingozi was the favourite son of the King, come from sheer friendship and curiosity to see M'tela, whose fame wasuniversal. For two hours the warriors squatted, or walked about campexamining with carefully concealed curiosity its various activities andstrange belongings. Then all disappeared. No more people appeared thatday. 

Kingozi knew well enough that this was a spying party sent directly fromM'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 cheeredhis master wonderfully. By all the signs the simplest of the white man'swonders were brand new to the visitors; _ergo_ Winkleman could not havearrived. If he were not yet at M'tela's court, the chances seemed goodthat Simba and the magic bone had succeeded. 

Nothing at present could be done. Kingozi sent Cazi Moto out to kill anabundance of game. The little headman returned later to report theextraordinary luck of two zebra to two cartridges (at thirty yards to besure!) and that after each kill very many _shenzis_ gathered to examinethe bullet wound, the gun, and the distance. They were immensely excited, not at all awestricken, entirely friendly. There was no indication of anydesire to rob the hunters. Evidently, Kingozi reflected, they werefamiliar with firearms by hearsay, and were deeply interested at thisfirst hand experience. 

The safari remained encamped at this spot all the next day, and the daysucceeding. Natives came into camp, at first only the men, hesitatingly;then the women. A brisk little trade sprang up for yams, bananas, _m'wembe_ meal, eggs, and milk. No shrewder bargainer exists than yourAfrican safari man, and these soon discovered that beads and wirepossessed great purchasing power in this unsophisticated country. Thebartering had to be done in sign language, as Swahili seemed to beunknown; and no man in the safari understood this unknown tongue. Kingozisat in state before his tent, smoking his pipe--which he still enjoyed inspite of his blindness--and awaiting events in that vast patience sonecessary to the successful African traveller. Occasionally a group of thechatting natives would drift toward his throne, would fall intoawestricken silence, would stare, would drift away again; but noneaddressed him. The Leopard Woman, obeying rules that Kingozi had managedto convey as very strict, held apart. Only in the evening, after the lion-fearing visitors had all departed, did they sit together sociably by thefire. The nights at this elevation were cool--cold they seemed to theheat-seasoned travellers. 

There was not much conversation. Kingozi was lost in a deep brooding, which she respected. The occasion was serious, and both knew it. Duringthe moment of decision the man's duty and principle had been the mostimportant matters in the world. Once the decision was irrevocably made, however, these things fell below the horizon. There loomed only thethought of perpetual blindness. Kingozi faced it bravely; but such a factrequires adjustment, and in these hours of waiting the adjustments werebeing made. 

Only once or twice did Bibi-ya-chui utter the thoughts that continuallypossessed her. 

"It seems so foolish!" she complained to him. "You are making yourselfblind for always; and you are going to be a prisoner for long! If youwould go back, you would not be captured and held by Winkleman when youreach M'tela!"

But such expostulations she knew to be vain, even as she uttered them. 

At about nine o'clock of the third day Cazi Moto reported a file ofwarriors, many warriors--"like the leaves of grass!" armed with spears andshields, wearing black ostrich plumes, debouching from the grove a mileacross the way. At the same instant the Leopard Woman, her alarm causingher to violate her instructions, came to Kingozi's camp. 

"They attack us!" she cried. "They come in thousands! How can we resist somany--and you blind! Tell me what I shall do!"

"There is no danger, " Kingozi reassured her. "This is undoubtedly anescort. No natives ever attack at this hour of the day. Their time is justat first dawn. "

She sighed with relief. Then a new thought struck her. 

"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?"

"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. CaziMoto, strike camp, and get ready to safari. "

The warriors of M'tela debouched on the open plain, seemingly without end. The sun glinted from their upraised, polished spears; their ostrich plumesswayed gently as though a wind ruffled a field of sombre grain tassels;the anklets and leg bracelets clashed softly together to produce in theaggregate a rhythmic marching cadence. Their front was nearly a quarter ofa mile in width. Rank after rank in succession appeared: literallythousands. Drums roared and throbbed; and the blowing of innumerabletrumpets, fashioned mostly from the horns of oryx and sing-sing, added tothe martial ensemble. 

The members of the safari were gathered in little knots, staring, wideeyed with apprehension. Upon them descended zealous Cazi Moto. Even his_kiboko_ had difficulty in breaking up the groups, in setting the men atthe commonplace occupations of breaking camp. Yet that must be done, inall decent dignity; and at length it was done. 

The first ranks were now fairly at the outskirts of camp; the last had butjust left the woods. The plains were literally covered with spearmen. Amagnificent sight! They came to a halt, raised their spears horizontallyabove their heads; the horns and drums redoubled their din; a mighty, concerted shout rent the air. Then abruptly fell dead silence. 

From the front rank a tall, impressive savage stepped forward, pacing withdignified stride. He walked directly to Kingozi's chair. 

"_Jambo, bwana!_" He uttered his greeting in deep chest tones that rumbledlike distant thunder. 

"_Jambo, n'ympara_, " responded Kingozi in a mild tone. By his use of theword _n'ympara_--headman--he indicated his perfect understanding of thefact that this man, for all his magnificence, for all the strength of hisescort, was not M'tela himself, but only one of M'tela's ministers. 

"_Jambo, bwana m'kubwa!_" rolled the latter. 

"_Jambo_" replied Kingozi. 

"_Jambo, bwana m'kubwa-sana!_"

"_Jambo_. "

"_Jambo, bwana m'kubwa-sana!_"

"_Jambo_. "

Having thus climbed by easy steps to the superlative greeting, theminister uttered his real message. As befitted his undoubted position incourt, he spoke excellent Swahili. 

"I am come to take you to the _manyatta_ of M'tela, " he announced. 

"That is well, " replied Kingozi calmly. "In one hour we shall go. "

CHAPTER XXV

M'TELA

They set off through the beautiful country in their usual order of march. The warriors of M'tela accompanied them, walking ahead, behind, and oneither flank. The drums roared incessantly, the trumpets of horn sounded. It was a triumphal procession, but rather awe-inspiring. The safari mendid their best to imitate Kingozi's attitude of indifference; andsucceeded fairly well, but their eyes rolled in their heads. 

The Leopard Woman sat her donkey, and surveyed it all with appreciativeeyes. In spite of Kingozi's reassuring words, the impression of savagepower as the warriors debouched from the wood had been vivid enough togive emphasis to a strong feeling of relief when their intentions provedpeaceful. The revulsion accentuated her enjoyment of the picturesqueaspects of the scene. The shining, naked bodies, the waving ostrichplumes, the glitter of spears, the glint of polished iron, the wild, savage expression of the men, the throb of barbaric music appealed to herartistic sense. In a way her mind was at rest. At least the striving wasover. Kingozi had made his decision; it was no use to struggle against itlonger. She had no doubt that now they were virtually prisoners, that theywere being conducted in this impressive manner to a chieftain already wonover by Winkleman. The latter had had more than the time necessary tocarry out his purpose. Kingozi's persistence was maddeningly futile; butit was part of the man, and she could not but acquiesce. 

They marched across the open grassy plain, and into the woods beyond. Awide, beaten track took them through, as though they walked in a loftytunnel with green walls through which one could look, but beyond which onemight not pass. Then out into the sunlight again, skirting a swamp ofplumed papyrus with many waterfowl, and swarms of insects, and birdswheeling swiftly catching the insects, and other larger birds soaringgrandly above on the watch-out for what might chance. This swamp was likea green river flowing bank high between the hills. It twisted out of sightaround wooded promontories. And the hills, constantly rising in height, crowned with ever-thickening forests, extended as far as the eye couldreach. 

At the end of the straight vista they turned sharp to the right andclimbed 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 thesinuous course of the papyrus swamp could be followed for miles in itsvivid 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'spalace. 

The Leopard Woman stared curiously. There was not much to be seen. A highstockade of posts and wattle shut off the view, but over it could bedistinguished a thatched roof. It was rectangular instead of circular andappeared to be at least forty feet long--a true, royal palace. Smallerroofs surrounded it. Outside the gate stood several more of the gorgeousspearmen, rigidly at attention. Not another soul was in sight. 

But whatever seemed to lack either in the cordiality or curiosity of theinhabitants was more than made up for by the escort. With admirablemilitary precision, a precision that Kingozi would have appreciated couldhe have seen it, they deployed across the wide open space at the front ofthe plateau. The drums lined up before them. In the echoing enclosure ofthe forest walls the noise was prodigious. And then abruptly, as before, it fell. In the silence the voice of the old headman was heard:

"Here will be found the way to the guest houses, " he urged gently. 

The ragged safari, carrying its loads, plunged again into a forest path, walking single file, a tatterdemalion crew. And yet a philosophic observermight have caught a certain nonchalance, a faint superiority of bearing onthe part of these scarecrows; ridiculous when considered against theoverwhelming numbers, the military spruceness, the savage formidability ofthe wild hordes that surrounded them. And if he had been an experienced aswell as a philosophic observer he could have named the quality thatinformed them. Even in these truly terrifying, untried conditions itpersisted--the white man's _prestige_. 

The forest path, wide and well-trodden, led them a scant quarter mile to acleared wide space on the very edge of the hill, which here fell abruptlyaway. A large circular guest house occupied the centre point, and othersmaller houses surrounded it at a respectful distance. To the right handwere the tops of trees on a lower elevation; to the left and at the rearthe solid wall of forest; immediately in front a wide outlook over thepapyrus swamp and the partly clothed hills beyond. 

Their guides--for there were several--indicated the guest houses, andsilently disappeared. The safari was alone with its own devices. 

Kingozi's practical voice broke the slight awe that all this savagemagnificence had imposed. 

"Cazi Moto!" he commanded, "tell me what is here. "

He listened attentively while the wizen-faced little headman gave adetailed account, not only of the present dispositions, but also of whathad been seen during the short march to M'tela's stronghold. At theconclusion of this recital he called to the Leopard Woman. 

"I am here, near you, " she answered. 

"You must be my eyes for this, " he told her. "Look into the large guesthouse. Is it clean? Is it fairly new?"

She reported favourably as to these points. 

"I am sorry, but I must take it over for myself, " he said. "Matter not ofcomfort, but of prestige. You would do best to pitch your tent somewherenear. Cazi Moto, let the men make camp as usual. "

"Very well, " she agreed to her part of this program. Her manner was verygentle; and she looked on him, could he have known it, with eyes of atender compassion. His was a brave heart, but Winkleman must long sincehave arrived----

She moved slowly away to superintend the placing of her tent, reflectingon these matters. It was decent of Winkleman to keep himself in thebackground just at first. Time enough to convince poor blind Kingozi thatthe game was up when he had to some extent recovered from the strain andfatigue of the long journey. But Winkleman was a good sort. She knew him:a big, hearty, bearded Bavarian, polyglot, intensely scientific, with arolling deep voice. He must have had ten days--a week anyway--to use hisacknowledged arts and influence on the savage king. Kingozi had said aweek would be enough--and Kingozi knew! She sighed deeply as she thoughtof the doom to which his own obstinacy had condemned that remarkable man. Her eyes wandered to where he sat in his canvas chair, superintendingthrough the ever-efficient Cazi Moto the details of the camp. Hisshoulders were sagging forward wearily, and his face in repose fell intolines of infinite sadness. Her heart melted within her; and in a suddenrevulsion she flamed against Winkleman and all his diabolical efficiency. After all, this little corner of an unknown land could not mean so much tothe general result, and it would be so glorious a consolation to a braveman's blindness! Then she became ashamed of herself as a traitor. Her tentwas now ready; so she entered it, bathed, clad herself in her silks, andhung the jewel on her forehead. Once more the serene mistress of herself, she came forth to view the sights. 

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 along procession of women and little girls. They were all stark naked, andeach carried on her head an earthen vessel or a greater or lesser gourdaccording to her strength. They passed near the large guest house, andthere poured the water from their vessels into a series of big jars. Thusevery drop of water had to be transported up the hill, not only for theguest camp, but for all M'tela's thousands somewhere back in themysterious forest. These women were of every age and degree ofattractiveness; but all were slender, and each possessed a fine-texturedskin of red bronze. Except the very old, whose breasts had fallen, theywere finely shaped. The rays of the sun outlined them. They seemed quiteunaware of their nakedness. Their faces were good-humoured; and some ofthem even smiled shyly at the white woman standing by her tent. Havingpoured out the water, they disappeared down the forest path. 

Thence shortly appeared other women with huge burdens of firewood carriedby means of a strap, after the fashion of the Canadian tump-line; andstill others with _m'wembe_, bananas, yams, eggs, _n'jugu_ nuts, andgourds of smoked milk. Evidently M'tela did not do things by halves. 

The customary routine of the camp went on. Supper was served as usual; andas usual the Leopard Woman joined Kingozi for the meal. The occasion wasconstrained on her side, easy on his. He asked her various questions as todetails of the surroundings which she answered accurately but a littleabsently. She spoke from the surface of her mind. Within herself she waslistening and waiting--listening for the first sound of shod feet, wailingfor the moment when Winkleman should see fit to declare himself and endthe suspense. 

So high was this inner tension that she fairly jumped from her chair as ademoniac shrieking wail burst from the forest near at hand. It wasanswered farther away. Other voices took up the cry. It was as though athousand devils in shuddering pain were giving tongue. 

"Tree hyraxes, " Kingozi reassured her. 

"Those tiny beasts!" she cried incredulously. 

"Just so. Sweet voices, haven't they? Some of these people must be wearinghyrax robes. "

And indeed she remembered seeing some of the soft, beautiful karosses. 

But now from the direction of M'tela's palaces arose a confused murmurthat swelled as a multitude drew near. The drums began again. Soon, theLeopard Woman described, torches began to flash through the trees. At thesame moment Cazi Moto came to report. 

"Build up a big fire, " commanded Kingozi. He turned to the Leopard Woman. 

"This is likely to be an all-night session, " he said resignedly. "If youwant to get out of it, I advise you to go now. Not that you'll be able toget any sleep. But if you stay, you must stick it out. It would never doto leave in the middle of the performance. Some of it you won't like. "

"What is it to be?"

"Ceremonial dances, I fancy. "

"I think I shall stay, " she said slowly. 

In her heart she thought it extremely unlikely that the performance wouldlast all night. Indeed her own opinion was that Kingozi would be aprisoner within an hour. 

Kingozi settled himself stolidly in his chair before the fire that was nowbeginning to eat its way through an immense pile of fuel, where, duringall subsequent events, he remained in the same attitude. 

The Leopard Woman, on the contrary looked with all her eyes. The torchescame nearer. People began to pour out from the woods. There were warriorsin full panoply; lithe, naked men carrying only wands peeled fresh to thewhite; women hung heavily with cowries; other women with neither garmentnor ornament, their bodies oiled and glistening. A deep, rolling chantarose from hundreds of throats, punctuated and carried by a sort ofshrill, intermittent ululation. The drums were there, but for the momentthey were not being beaten in cadence, only rubbed until they roared inundertone to the men's chanting. 

All these people divided to right and left in the clearing of the guestcamp, and took their stations. More and more appeared. The space filled, filled solidly, until at last there was no break in the mass of humanityexcept for a circle forty feet in diameter about the fire. 

Suddenly a group of fifteen or twenty men detached themselves from themain body and leaped into this cleared space. The great chant still rolledon; 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 asingle 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. Indeep chest tones they pronounced the word _goom_, at the same time halfcrouching; then in sharp staccato head tones the word _zup_, at the sametime rising swiftly up and toward their common centre. It was like the ebband surge of a wave, the alternate smooth crouch and spring over and overagain--_goom, zup! goom, zup! goom, zup!_--and behind it the twinkle oftorches, the gleam of eyes, the roll of the deep-voiced chanting. 

Endlessly they repeated this performance. The Leopard Woman, watching, atlast 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 outsidethe focus of the dancers turned gray--_goom, zup! goom, zup!_--was itnever to end? And then it seemed to her that it never would end, that thusit would go on forever, and that so it was just and right. The men weretireless. The sweat glistened on their bodies, but their eyes gleamedfanatically. She floated off on a tide of irrelevant thoughts. 

Hours later, as it seemed to her, she came to herself suddenly. Kingozistill sat stolidly in his chair. The dancers were retiring step by step, still with unabated vigour, continuing their performance. They melted intothe crowd. 

Now a pellmell of bizarre figures broke out. They were bedeckedfantastically: some of them were painted with white clay; one was clad inthe skins of beasts. There was no rhythm or order to their entrance; butimmediately they began to dash here and there shouting. 

"It is the Lion Dance, _memsahib_, " Cazi Moto told her in a low voice. "That one is the lion; and they hunt him with spears in the long grass. "

The chase went forward with some verisimilitude, and yet with a symbolicsyncopation that indicated the Lion Dance was a very ancient andconventional ceremony. These dancers gave way to a chorus of singers. Forinterminable hours, so it seemed, they chanted a high, shrill recitative, carried in fugue by deeper voices. The burden of the song was evidently animpromptu. Occasionally some peculiarly apt or pleasing phrase was caughtup for endless repetition. And in the background, against the fartherbackground of the undistinguished masses, those who had formerly carriedon their performances in the full glare of front-row publicity and thecampfire, now continued their efforts almost unabated. The impressiveutterers of the _goom-zup_ shibboleth, the slayers of the symbolical lion, carried on still. Indeed as the night wore on, and one group of dancerssucceeded another, the homogeneous crowd began to break into variedactivity. Each took his turn as principal, then fell back to form part ofthe variegated background. Each dance was different. Warriors fully armedclashed shield and spear; witch doctors crouched and sprang; women stampedin rhythm; the elephant was hunted, the crops sown and gathered, all theactivities of community and individual life were danced, the frankness ofsome saved from obscenity only by the unconscious earnestness of theirexposition and the evidence of their symbolism that they were not theexpression of the moment but very ancient customs. 

The Leopard Woman watched it all with shining eyes. The emotion of thepicturesque, the call of savage wildness, the contagion of a mountingcommunity excitement caused the blood to race through her veins. The drumsthrobbed against her heart as the pulse throbbed against her temples. Sheresisted an actual impulse to rise from her chair, to throw herself withabandon into an orgy of rhythm and motion. Perfectly she understood thosewho, having reached the breaking point, dashed madly through the firescattering embers and coals, or who darted forward to kiss ecstaticallythe white man's feet, or who reached a wild paroxysm of nerves to collapsethe next instant into exhaustion. She was brought to herself by Kingozi'scalm voice. 

"Sweet riot, isn't it?" he remarked. "They're working themselves up to ahigh pitch. It's always that way. You would think they'd drop from sheerweariness. "

"How long will they keep it up?" she asked, drawing a deep breath, andtrying to speak naturally. 

"So it got you, too, a little, did it?" he said curiously. 

"What do you mean?"

"The excitement. It's contagious unless you are accustomed to it. I'veseen safe and sane youngsters go quite off their heads at these shows, anddash down and caper around like the maddest _shenzi_ of them all. Felt itmyself at first. It draws you; like wanting to jump off when you look downfrom a high place. " He was talking evenly and carelessly. "Enough of thissort of thing will make a crowd see anything. Devil-worshippers forinstance, they see red devils, after they work up to it, not a doubt ofit. "

"Thank you, " she answered his evident purpose of bringing her to herself. 

"All right now, eh?"

"Yes. "

"Well, to answer your question; I've known dances to last two days. "

"Heaven!" she cried, dismayed. 

"But this is to prepare a suitable entrance for his majesty. We'll hearfrom him along toward daylight. " He held out his wrist watch toward her. "What time now?"

Somehow the simple action seemed to her pathetic. Her eyes filled, and shestooped as though to kiss the outstretched hand. Never again would theworn old wrist watch serve its owner, except thus, vicariously!

"It is ten minutes past the twelve, " she answered in a stifled voice. 

"We must settle down to it. If you want tea or something to eat, tell CaziMoto. "

He resumed his stolid demeanour. 

The dancing continued. Every once in a while women threw armfuls of fuelon the blaze. The tree hyraxes, out-screeched and outnumbered, fell intosilence or withdrew. Above the stars shone serenely; and all about stoodthe trees of the ancient forest. Outside the hot, leaping red light theydrew back aloof and still. They had seen many dances, many ebbs and flowsof men's passions; for they were very old. 

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. Shefound herself wondering whether Winkleman would appear to-night. 

A few hours earlier than Kingozi had predicted, in fact not far after twoo'clock, the wild dancing died to absolute immobility and absolutesilence, and M'tela arrived. 

He appeared walking casually as though out for a stroll, emerging from theend of the wide forest path. Central African natives are never obese--comic papers to the contrary notwithstanding. Nevertheless, M'tela was alarge man, amply built, his muscles overlaid by smoother, softer flesh. Hepossessed dignity without aloofness, a rare combination, and one thatinvariably indicates a true feeling of superiority. As he moved forward heglanced lazily and good-humouredly to right and left at his people, in themanner of a genial grown-up among small children. He wore a piece ofcotton 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 throughmany hands. 

"The _sultani, bwana_, " murmured the ever-alert Cazi Moto. 

M'tela wandered to where Kingozi sat. The white man did not move, butappeared to stare absently straight before him. At ten paces M'telastopped and deliberately inspected his visitor for a full half-minute. Then he advanced and dropped to the stool an obsequious and zealous slaveplaced for him. 

"_Jambo_, papa, " he said casually. 

His manner was perfect. The thousand or so human beings who crowded theclearing might not have existed. Himself and Kingozi, two equals, weresettling themselves for an informal little chat in the midst of solitudes. His large intelligent eye passed over the Leopard Woman, but if herappearance aroused in him any curiosity or other interest no flicker ofexpression betrayed the fact. 

As he heard the form of address a brief gleam of satisfaction crossedKingozi's face. Whether it has been transferred from the English, or hasbeen adopted more directly from the babbling of infants, "papa" isperfectly good Swahili. When M'tela addressed Kingozi as "papa" he notonly acknowledged him as a guest, but he admitted the white man to theintimacy that exists between equals in rank. 

M'tela was friendly. 

CHAPTER XXVI

WAITING

Two days passed. By the end of that time it had been borne in on theLeopard Woman that Winkleman had not yet arrived. Kingozi and M'telacircled each other warily, like two strange dogs, though all the time withan appearance of easy and intimate cordiality. As yet Kingozi had neitherconfided to the savage the fact of his blindness nor visited the royalpalace. The latter ceremony he had evaded under one plea or another; andthe infliction he had managed to conceal by the simple expedient ofremaining in his canvas chair. Later would be time enough to acknowledgeso great a weakness; later when the subtle and specialized diplomacy he soassiduously applied would have had time to do its work. 

For M'tela was initially friendly. This was a great satisfaction toKingozi, though none knew better than he how any chance gust of influenceor passion could veer the wind. Still it was something to start on; andsomething more or less unexpected and unhoped for. M'tela himself suppliedthe reason in the course of one of their interminable conversations. 

"I am pleased to see the white man, " he said. "Never has the white mancome to my country before; but always I knew he would come. One time longago my brother who is king of the people near the Great Water said thesewords to me: 'My brother, some day white men will come to you. They willbe few, and they will come with a small safari, and their wealth will looksmall to you. But make no mistake. Where these few white men who look poorcome from are many more--like the leaves of the grass--and their wealth isgreat and their wonders many; and for each white man that is speared tenmore come, without end, like water flowing down a hill. I know this to beso, for I am an old man, and I have fought, and of all those who foughtthe white man in my youth only I remain. ' So I remembered these words ofmy brother always. "

"You are a wise man, oh, King, " said Kingozi, "for those words are true. "

Hourly Kingozi cursed his eyes. With this man so well-disposed a day--asingle hour--of the white man's miracles would have cemented hisfriendship. But Kingozi was deprived at a stroke of the great advantagesto be gained by cutting out paper dolls, making coins disappear and appearagain, and all the rest of the bag of tricks. He had not even thealternative advantage of a store of rich gifts with which to buy thechief's favour. This crude alternative to subtle diplomacy he had scornedwhen making out a small safari for a long journey. 

To be sure he was not doing badly. A box of matches and instructions inthe use thereof went far as an evidence of munificence. Sparingly he doledout his few treasures--the gaudy blankets; coils of brass, copper, andiron wires; beads; snuff; knives, and the like. They were received withevery mark of appreciation. In return firewood, water, and food of allsorts came in abundantly. But these, Kingozi well knew, were onlytemporizing evidences of good feeling. Time would come when M'tela wouldceremoniously bring in his real present--assuredly magnificent asbeseeming his power. Then, Kingozi knew, he should be able to reciprocatein degree. He could not do so; he could not use his accustomed methods; hecould not even exhibit his trump card--the deadly wonder of the weaponthat could kill at a distance. 

Nevertheless he would have awaited the outcome with serene indifferencecould he have been certain of a dear field. The arrival of Winklemanwould, he secretly admitted, upset him completely. Winkleman--anotherwhite man, possessed of powers he did not possess, of wonders he did notown, of knowledge equal to his--would have no difficulty in taking thelead from him. Certainly Winkleman had not yet arrived, and he was longoverdue. On the other hand, neither had Simba nor Mali-ya-bwana reported;and they were equally overdue. These were ticklish times; and Kingozi hadgreat difficulty in sitting calmly in his canvas chair listening to theendless inconsequences of a savage. 

The Leopard Woman could not understand how he did it. Her inner nervoustension, due as much to a conflict as to suspense, drove her nearlyfrantic. She knew that Winkleman's appearance spelled defeat for Kingozi;she knew that she should hope for that appearance--and deep in her heartshe knew that she dreaded it! But as time went on without tangibleresults, she began to long for it as a relief. At least it would be overthen. And Kingozi--oh, brave heart! oh, pathetic figure--if anything couldmake it up to him----!

The morning of the third day came. Usual camp activities carried them onuntil nine o'clock. Kingozi was settled in his chair awaiting what the daywould bring forth. The Leopard Woman coming across from her tent to theguest house stopped short at what she saw. 

Across the way, a half or three-quarters of a mile distant, beyond thegreen papyrus swamp, on the slope from the edge of the forest, appeared along file of men bearing burdens on their heads. Even at this distance shemade out the colour of occasional garments of khaki cloth, or the green ofcanvas on the packs. 

She arrived at Kingozi's side simultaneously with Cazi Moto. 

"A safari comes, _bwana_, " said the latter. "It is across the swamp. "

Kingozi's figure stiffened. 

"What kind of a safari?" he asked quietly. 

The Leopard Woman answered him. There was no note of jubilation in hervoice. 

"It is a white man's safari, " she told him. "I can see khaki--and they aremarching as a white man's safari marches. "

"Get my glasses, " he told Cazi Moto. Then to her, his voice vibrating withemotion 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 donothing. "

"I will tell you the truth, " she promised, raising the glasses. 

For some moments she looked intently. 

"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. 

Kingozi's face turned gray. He dropped his face into his hands. Gently shelaid her hand on his bowed head. Thus they waited, while the safari, evidently under local guidance, plunged into some hidden path through thepapyrus, and so disappeared. 

CHAPTER XXVII

THE MAGIC BONE

Let us now follow Simba, Mali-ya-bwana, and their six men and the twostrange _shenzis_ who were to act as guides. 

They started off across the veldt at about four o'clock of the afternoonand travelled rapidly until dark. The gait they took was not a run, but itgot them over the ground at four and a half to five miles an hour. Shortlyafter sundown they stopped for an hour, ate, drank, and lay flat on theirbacks. Then they arose, lighted a candle end in the mica lantern, andresumed 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 alittle while; whenever they became hungry, they ate; and whenever theythirsted, they drank, paying no attention whatever to the time of day, thestate of their larder, or the distance to more water. No ideas ofconservation hampered them in the least. If the water gave out, theyargued, they would be thirsty; but it was as well to be thirsty later fromlack 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 ofhills fit and comparatively fresh. 

Here they encountered people belonging to M'tela's tribes; but theirguides seemed to vouch for them, and they passed without trouble. Indeedthey were here enabled to get more food, and to waste no time hunting. Atnoon of another day, surmounting a ridge, they looked down on a marchingsafari. The two _shenzi_ guides pointed and grinned, much pleased withthemselves. Their pleasure was short lived; for they were promptly seized, disarmed, and tied together. The grieved astonishment of their expressionsalmost immediately faded into fatalistic stolidity. So many things happenin Africa!

Mali-ya-bwana and one of the other men proceeded rapidly ahead on thegeneral line of march. The rest paralleled the safari below. After an hourthe scouts returned with news of a water-hole where, undoubtedly, thestrange safari would camp. All then hurried on. 

Concealed in a thicket Simba proceeded with great zest to make himselfover into a _shenzi_. In every savage is a good deal of the small boy; sothis disguising himself pleased him immensely. Taking the spear in onehand and the "sacred bone" reverently in the other, he set out tointercept the safari. 

It came within the hour. Simba almost unremarked regarded it curiously. There were over a hundred men, all of tribes unknown to him with theexception of a dozen who evidently performed the higher offices. Thecommon porters were indeed _shenzis_--wild men--picked up from jungle andveldt as they were needed; and not at all of the professional porter classto be had at Mombasa; Nairobi, Dar-es-salaam, or Zanzibar. Simba's eyespassed over them contemptuously, but rested with more interest on thesmaller body of _askaris_, headmen, and gun bearers. These also were oftribes strange to him; but of East African types with which he wasfamiliar. They were all dressed in a sort of uniform of khaki, wore capswith a curtain hanging behind, and arm bands gayly emblazoned withimperial eagles. All this was very impressive. Simba conceived a respectfor this white man's importance. Evidently he was a _bwana m'kubwa_. Thesupposed savage experienced a growing excitement over the task he hadundertaken. All his training had taught him to respect the white man, assuch; and now he was called upon to abduct forcibly one of the sacredbreed--and such a specimen! Only Simba's undoubted force of character, andthe veneration his long association with Kingozi had inculcated, sustainedhim. 

For Winkleman was a big man in every way: tall, broad, thick, with amassive head, large features, and such a tremendous black beard! Well hadhe deserved his native name of _Bwana_ Nyele--the master with the mane. 

Simba awaited the moment of greatest confusion in the placing and pitchingof the camp, and then advanced timidly, holding out the bone Kingozi hadgiven him. His courage and faith were very low. They revived instantly ashe saw the immediate effect. It was just as Kingozi had told him it wouldbe; and as there was nothing on earth in a bit of dry bone that couldaccomplish such an effect except magic, Simba thenceforward went on withhis adventure in completed confidence. 

For at sight of the bone _Bwana_ Nyele's eyes lit up, he uttered anastonishing bellow of delight, and sprang forward with such agility for solarge a man that he almost succeeded in snatching the talisman fromSimba's hands. Acting precisely on his instructions the latter backedaway, pointing over the hill. 

"Where did you get that?" Winkleman demanded. 

Simba continued to point. 

"Give it me. "

Simba started away, still pointing. Winkleman followed a few steps. 

"There is more?" he asked. "Do you speak Swahili?"

"Many more, _bwana_, " Simba replied in the atrocious Swahili Kingozi hadordered. "Over there only a little distance. "

Everything turned out as Kingozi had promised. Bwana Nyele asked severalmore questions, received no replies, finally bellowed:

"But lead me there, _m'buzi!_ I would see!"

Simba guided him up the hill. At the appointed spot they fell upon him andbore him to the earth in spite of his strength, and bound his hands behindhis back. Then Simba wrapped the magic bone reverently in its cloth. Certainly it was wonderful magic. 

Winkleman put up a good fight, but once he felt himself definitelyoverpowered he ceased his struggles. He was helped to his feet. A glanceat his captors taught him that these were safari men and not savages ofthe country; and, with full knowledge of the general situation, he was notlong in guessing out his present plight. But now was not the time fortalk. 

A half-hour's walk took the party to a second water-hole, the indicationsfor which Simba had already noted on his little scouting tour. There theyproceeded to make camp. The six porters began with their swordlike_pangas_ to cut poles and wattles, to peel off long strips of inner barkfrom the thorn trees which would serve as withes. Then they began theconstruction of a _banda_, one of the quickly built little thatched sheds, open at both ends. At sight of this Winkleman swore deeply. He was fairlytrapped, and knew it; but the _banda_ indicated that he was to be heldprisoner in this one spot for at least some days. However, wise man innative ways, he said nothing and made no objection. But his keen wideeyes took in every detail. 

When the _banda_ was finished and a big pile of the dried hay had beenspread as a couch Simba approached respectfully but firmly, took _Bwana_Nyele's helmet from his head, his spine-pad from his back, and his shoesfrom his feet. In this strategy Winkleman with reluctance admired thewhite man's hands. Without head and spine covering of some sort he couldnot travel a mile under the tropic sun; without foot covering or a lighthe would be helpless at night. Of course these things could be improvised;but not easily. He stretched himself on the hay and awaited events. 

The men built a fire and gathered around it. They were cooking, but at thesame time the two whom Winkleman recognized as leaders conferred earnestlyand at great length. Had he been at their elbows he would have heard thefollowing:

"The magic of this bone is a very great magic, " Simba was saying. "Allhappened exactly as _Bwana_ Kingozi told us. Now is the fifth day. Thereremain now nine days to wait until we must bring this _m'zungu_ to _Bwana_Kingozi at the _manyatta_ of M'tela. "

"It is indeed great magic, " agreed Mali-ya-bwana. "How many days is the_manyatta?_"

"I do not know. These _shenzis_ should know; but they talk only monkeytalk. Here, let us try. " He drew one of the prisoners one side. "M'tela, "he enunciated slowly. 

The savage nodded, and pointed the direction with his protruded lower lip. 

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 firstone, then two, then three fingers. The savage was puzzled. Simba wentthrough 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 _shenzi_. He held up four fingers. 

Simba next called to Mali-ya-bwana to interrogate the other prisonerapart. As the latter also reported M'tela four days distant--when heunderstood--this was accepted as the truth. 

"Then we remain in camp five days, " they concluded, after working out thesubtraction. 

"But, " intervened one of the porters, "we have no more _potio_. "

"I have the _bwana's_ gun, " Simba pointed out, "and also the gun of this_m'zungu_. There is here plenty of game. "

"To eat meat always is not well, " grumbled the porter. 

"To eat _kiboko_ (whip) is always possible, " replied Simba grimly. 

"Nevertheless, " said Mali-ya-bwana, who as co-leader was privileged tomore open speech, "_potio_ and meat are better than meat only. "

Simba looked at him inquiringly. 

"You have a thought?"

Mali-ya-bwana leaned forward. 

"It is this: If the bone has such great magic that thus we can takeprisoner a mighty _bwana_ like this, surely it is powerful enough to fightalso against safari men. "

Simba pondered this. 

"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 istrue always. Every man knows this. "

"Black men have killed white men, " Simba objected. 

"Only when the numbers were many. Even then many more black men also havedied, so that the painting for mourning went through many tribes. Neverbefore have men like us taken a white man thus easily. "

"That is true. "

"Then since this magic bone can subdue for us a great lord of a _m'zungu_, surely it will also subdue for us a safari of black men like ourselves, asafari that the _m'zungu_ has held in his hand. "

"That is true. "

"And that safari must have much _potio_"

"That also is true. "

"Let you--or me, it does not matter--take the magic bone, and with it takealso this safari and its _potio_. "

"I will do it, " assented Simba after a moment. "You will stay here tocarry out the _bwana's_ orders. "

CHAPTER XXVIII

SIMBA'S ADVENTURE

In the course of the evening Winkleman, conceiving that the right momenthad come, set himself seriously to establishing a dominance over thesemembers 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 hewas dealing not with natives, but with another white man as shrewd andexperienced as himself. Kingozi had from the abundance of his knowledgeforeseen exactly what methods and arguments the Bavarian would use, and inhis final instructions he had dramatized almost exactly the scene that wasnow taking place. Simba had his replies ready made for him. When anunexpected argument caught him unaware, he merely fingered surreptitiouslyhis magic bone, and remained serenely silent. Winkleman might as well havetalked at a stone wall. He soon recognized this, as also that the man hadbeen coached minutely. 

"Who is your _bwana?_" he asked at length. 

"He is a very great _bwana_, " Simba replied. 

"His name?"

"He has many names among many people. "

"What name do you call him?"

"I call him _bwana m'kubwa_ (great master), " replied Simba blandly. 

Winkleman gave up this tack and tried another. 

"What is his business? What does he do here?"

"His business is to fight. "

"Ah!" ejaculated Winkleman. "To fight!"

"Yes. His business is to fight the elephant. "

Winkleman swore. He could get at nothing this way. He must give his mindto escape. 

Early the next morning Simba started. He took with him, of course, hismagic bone; but, like a canny general, he carried also the rifle. Mali-ya-bwana was left sufficiently armed by Winkleman's weapon and the sixteencartridges captured on his person. 

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 castunfamiliar to Simba. He looked at them calmly. 

"Does some one speak Swahili?" he inquired. 

"_N'dio!_" they assented in chorus. 

Simba looked about him. This was indeed a great safari, and a rich_bwana_. The tent, of green canvas, was what is known as a "four-mantent"; that is, it took four men to carry it. The pile of loads in thecentre of the cleared space was high. There were three tin boxes and manychop boxes among them. 

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 littlekennels assigned to the ordinary porters. Here over a fire bubbled a_sufuria_, the African cooking pot, tended by a naked small boy. A cleanmat woven in bright colours carpeted the ground; on this all seatedthemselves. 

It would be tedious to relate each step of the ensuing negotiations. Thesesimple Africans would have needed no instruction from civilization tocarry on the most long-winded submarine controversy in the most approvedand circuitous manner. At the end of one solid hour of grave and politeexchange it developed that the white man was not at present in camp. Somewhat later Simba permitted it to be understood that his own white manwas not in the immediate neighbourhood. These gems of knowledge wereseparated by much leisurely chatter, and occasional and liberal dippingsinto the _sufuria_. And thus was the beginning and the end of the firstday. 

At noon of the second day, after a refreshing night's sleep, Simba movedup his forces. 

"Your white man is known to me, " said he. 

Some one remarked appropriately. 

"He is a prisoner in my camp. "

"In the camp of your white man. "

"In my camp. I myself have taken him prisoner, " insisted Simba. 

"You are telling lies, " said the headman of the safari. 

Simba took this calmly. In Africa to call a man a liar is no insult. 

"It is the truth, " said he. "With my own hands I took him; and he liesbound in my camp. "

"These are lies, " persisted the headman. "How can such things be? That youtook a white man, a great _bwana?_ That is foolishness. That has neverbeen and could never be. How could you accomplish such a feat?"

"I have a magic. "

"Ho!" cried the headman derisively. "Everybody knows that a magic is notgood against the white man. That has been tried many times!"

"This is a white man's magic. "

The statement made a visible impression. 

"Let us see it, " they demanded. 

But Simba refused. He was entirely at ease. In his ordinary habit he wouldhave become excited over being doubted, he would have wrangled, haveshouted--in short, would have been but one unit among many equals. But thepossession of the magic bone gave him a confidence from outside himself. For the time being he slipped genuinely into the attitude of the whiteman; became a super-Simba, as it were. This dignity and sureness commencedto have its effect. Almost they began to believe that Simba's words mightbe true!

At three o'clock the battle closed in. 

"My men need _potio_" said Simba. "Let ten loads be put aside, and let tenof these _shenzis_ be told to carry them where I shall say. "

But the headman leaped to his feet. 

"Who are you to give orders?" he cried. "These things belong to my whiteman. "

"Your white man is my property, " replied Simba superbly; and with nofurther parley he shot the headman dead. 

Here indeed showed the super-Simba. The dispute might in the ordinarycourse of events have come to shooting; but only after hours of excitedwrangling, and as a climax worked up to in a crescendo of emotion. Thisexpeditious nipping in the bud was a thoroughly white-manly proceeding. 

The headman whirled about under the impact of the high-power bullet at soclose a range, and collapsed face down. Simba sat calmly in his place. Hedid not even trouble to place himself in a better defensive attitudeagainst possible attack. His confidence in his magic bone was growing tosublimity as he noted how efficiently it carried him through every crisis. All over the camp the porters, startled, leaped to their feet. But at theheadmen's fire no one moved. They would ordinarily have been afraidneither of Simba nor Simba's weapons. Firearms were familiar to them. Theusual sequence to Simba's deed would have been an immediately defunctSimba. But his serene confidence in his magic caught their credulity. 

The white man's _prestige_ and privileges were invested in him. 

"Yours is undoubtedly a great magic, " said Winkleman's gun bearerpolitely. "Let us talk. "

They talked at great length, without bothering to remove the dead headman. The result was finally a continued respect for Simba, his magic bone, andhis ready rifle; but a lingering though polite incredulity as to thematter of Winkleman--_Bwana_ Nyele. It was possible that Simba had killedthe latter, of course. But to have taken him alive--and to be holding himprisoner----

It was suggested that the various upper men of this safari accompany Simbato the place of incarceration. Declined for obvious reasons. Propositionmodified to exclude all visitors but one. Still declined. 

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 everyone knows, the feeling of eternity is an accompaniment of every-day life. 

After some refreshments the sitting rose. Simba did not spend the night incamp. That did not seem to him wise. Instead he withdrew to a place he hadalready marked, deftly built himself a withe platform in the spread of anacacia, and slept soundly above the danger line. 

Next morning the discussion was resumed. It was all on an amicable basis. A bystander would have seen merely a group of lazy native servantsgossiping idly. And, indeed, for one word of relevance were a dozen ofsheer chatter. That is the African way. 

Since it was impossible to visit _Bwana_ Nyele, why could not _Bwana_Nyele be brought to within sight? Simba considered this; but finallyrejected it. The risk was too great, magic bone or no magic bone. 

"It is probable you speak lies, " said the gun bearer at last. "You say youwant _potio_ and that you hold _Bwana_ Nyele prisoner. But you do notbring us orders from _Bwana_ Nyele for _potio_. Nor do you give us proof. We must have proof before we believe or before we obey. "

"I will bring you _Bwana_ Nyele's gun; or his coat; or anything that ishis that you may see that I hold him prisoner. "

"Those things prove nothing, " the gun bearer pointed out. "They might havebeen taken from a dead man. "

They negotiated further. One gifted with the power of seeing onlyessential things would have found here a strange parallel. For these twomen, talking cautiously, clinging with tenacity to single points, yieldinggrudgingly, would have been the same to him as two shrewd business mencoming together on the phrases of a contract, or two diplomats framing theterms of a treaty. 

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 manhis point. 

Simba demanded _potio_ and obedience because he held the mighty _m'zungu_prisoner. The gun bearer wanted indubitable proof not only that Simba heldthe white man, but that he held him alive. 

It was agreed that Simba was to return to his own camp, was to procure theproof agreed upon, and was promptly to return. The said proof was to beone of _Bwana_ Nyele's fingers, which all agreed would be easilyrecognizable both as to identity and freshness!

The divulgence of this simple little plan by a Simba quite in earnestdissipated Winkleman's last hope of doing anything by means of persuasion. He knew his African well enough to realize that this fantastic method ofidentification seemed quite a matter of course. In fact, Simba was at themoment sharpening his hunting knife in preparation. Winkleman sworeheartily and fluently, then grinned. He was at heart a good soul, Winkleman, with a sense of amusement if not of humour, and a philosophy oflife denied most of his inexperienced and theoretical countrymen. And alsohe realized that he had his work cut out to prevent the program beingcarried through. The African is slow to come to a definite conclusion, butonce 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 hoursto persuade Simba that there might be another way; and two hours more toconvince him that there might even be a better way. When Simba reluctantlyand a little doubtfully sheathed his knife, the big Bavarian wiped hisbrow with genuine thankfulness. 

The reader need not be wearied by a detailed report of the interminableconferences that led up to the substitute plan. It would be a picture of abig bearded man smoking slowly--for until affairs were decided he couldget no more of his own tobacco--leaning on his elbow beneath the roof ofthe _banda_. Before him squatted on their heels in the posture white menfind so trying Mali-ya-bwana and Simba, entirely respectful, their shiningblack eyes fixed on the white man. The open ends of the _banda_ gave outon a dry boulder-strewn wash and the parched side of a hill. All else wassky. Morning coolness was succeeded by the blaze of midday, when the verysurface of the ground danced in the shimmer; then slowly the shadows creptout, the veils of mirage sank to earth, a coolness wandered in from someblessed region; darkness came suddenly; over the parched hill--now loomingmysterious in black garments--the tropic stars blazed out. Then outsidesome one lighted a fire. The flames cast lights and shadows within the_banda_ where still the white man leaned on his elbow, the black mensquatted on their heels, and the murmur of talk went on and on. 

But Winkleman got his way. At an appointed hour and at an appointed placeWinkleman, Mali-ya-bwana, and two of the carriers met Simba conducting thegun bearer from the other camp. The interview was very short. Indeed ithad all been carefully rehearsed. Winkleman said only what he had agreedto say; and thereby earned his finger. 

"This man holds me prisoner, " he told the gun bearer. "What he says istrue. Do what he asks you to do. It is my command. "

"Yes, _bwana_, " agreed the gun bearer. 

Then they parted. The immediate result was five loads of _potio_ broughtby safari men to "somewhere in Africa, " and thence transported by Simba'smen to Simba's camp. As game was thereabout abundant and undisturbedeverybody was happy. 

Thus passed a week, which brought time forward to the moment when Simba, following his instructions, was to report to Kingozi at the village ofM'tela. Therefore Simba set forth, taking with him, according to Africancustom, one of the porters as companion. He carried Kingozi's rifle, butleft that belonging to Winkleman with Mali-ya-bwana. 

Winkleman watched Simba go with considerable satisfaction. Mali-ya-bwanawas a man much above average African intelligence, but he had not theexperience, the initiative, the _flaire_ of Simba. Nor had he Simba'smagic bone. Simba took that with him. Winkleman knew nothing of thesupposed virtues of that property; and in consequence entertained arespect for qualities of Simba that were not entirely inherent in thatindividual. He began to flatter Mali-ya-bwana; to fraternize just enough;to assume complete resignation to his plight--in short, to use just thosetactics 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 complainof the irksomeness of his bonds. 

"This is foolishness, so to treat a _m'zungu_, " said he. "Nothing isgained. I cannot sleep; and the skin of my wrists is sore. He who watcheshas only to keep the fire bright. I cannot go like smoke. "

To Mali-ya-bwana, in his flattered and unsuspicious mood, this seemedreasonable. He was no such fool as to turn Winkleman loose to his owndevices; but he compromised by untying the Bavarian's wrists, and doublingthe thongs by which the latter's ankles were hitched to the larger timbersof the _banda_. Also he instructed the sentinel to keep the fire bright, to watch _Bwana_ Nyele, and to stop instantly any and all movements of thehands toward the feet. 

The early watches passed quietly. A second sentinel replaced the first. Upto this time Winkleman had slept quietly. Now he began to shift positionoften, to twist and turn, finally to groan softly. The sentinel came tothe end of the _banda_ and looked in. To him _Bwana_ Nyele raised a faceso ghastly that even the half-savage porter was startled. The man's eyesseemed to have sunk into his head, deep seams to have creased his brow andjaws. Apparently Winkleman was on the point of dissolution. 

"_Magi! nataka magi!_"[16] he gasped. 

[Footnote 16: Water! I want water!]

The sentinel took the canteen from the peg where it hung and bent over thedying man. Instantly his throat was clasped by a pair of heavy andpowerful hands. 

Two minutes later Winkleman rose to his feet free. The porter's knife inhis hand, he looked down on that unfortunate securely bound and gagged. Treading softly Winkleman stepped through the sleeping camp into theclear. He drew a deep breath. Then unconsciously wiping from his face themixture of grease and ashes that had constituted his "make-up, " he strodegrimly away toward his own safari. 

CHAPTER XXIX

WINKLEMAN'S SAFARI ARRIVES

The Leopard Woman watched the safari file down the distant hill and loseitself beneath the green plumes of the papyrus swamp. By all right sheshould have rejoiced. Against every probability she had succeeded. Thestars had worked for her. Though the prearranged plan had not carried inany 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 thewishes of the Imperial Government. But her heart was like lead. 

After the first droop Kingozi had straightened beneath the blow, and nowsat bolt upright, staring straight before him, as a king might have satalone on his throne. Whatever was coming, he would front it serenely. 

The head of the safari appeared at the foot of the slope. It seemed atrifle uncertain as to where to go next, but catching sight of Kingozi'stents, it turned up the hill. Cazi Moto's keen eyes were searching outevery detail; those of the Leopard Woman had suddenly become suffused withtears. 

"It is a rich safari, _bwana_, " Cazi Moto reported; "many loads. " Hisvoice sharpened with surprise, but he did not raise his tones. "Simba isthere, " said he. 

"Simba! So they caught him, " muttered Kingozi. "Well, that play failed. Doyou see the white man?" he asked. 

"No, _bwana_. The white man has not yet come. But Simba now sees us, andis coming. "

"He is guarded?"

"No, _bwana_; he is alone. "

"_Jambo, bwana_, " said Simba's voice a moment later. 

Something in his tone caught Kingozi's ear. 

"Yes, Simba?" was all he replied. 

"All has been done as you ordered, _bwana_. This is the fourteenth day, and I am here to tell you. "

Kingozi caught his breath sharply. 

"_Bwana_ Nyele was captured?"

"Mali-ya-bwana holds him prisoner at a certain water. "

"There was no trouble?"

"None, _bwana_. All happened as you told. This magic is a very greatmagic, " said Simba piously. 

Kingozi paused. 

"The safari, " he suggested at last. "I am told of a safari; indeed, I canhear it. What of that? No orders were given as to a safari. "

"That is true, _bwana_, " explained Simba earnestly, "but this is a verygreat safari. It has tents and _potio_, and _chakula_[17], and blanketsand beads and wire and many other things to a quantity impossible to say. And it came to my mind that _shenzis_ like these things, as do all men, and that in this _shenzi_ country my _bwana_ might make use of them; so Ibrought them with me for your use, _bwana_. "

[Footnote 17: _Chakula_--white man's food. ]

"You had no trouble bringing this great safari?" asked Kingozi. 

"I used again the magic bone, " replied Simba. 

"Simba, you jewel!" cried Kingozi in English, "you've saved the day! Ishould think _shenzis_ did like these things! And oh, haven't I neededthem! You old tar-baby, you!"

And Simba replied as usual to this incomprehensible gibberish with his ownfull stock of English:

"Yes, suh!"

"You have done well, very well, " Kingozi shifted to Swahili. "I am pleasedwith you. For this work you shall have much _backsheeshi_--a month's wagesextra, and twenty goats for your farm, and any other thing that you wantmost. What is it?"

Simba appeared to hesitate and boggle. 

"Speak up! I am Very pleased. "

"This is a very great thing I would ask, " said Simba in a low voice. 

"It is a great thing you have done. "

"_Bwana_, " cried Simba earnestly. "It is this: I would have the magic bonefor my own. For it is a very great magic, " he added wistfully. 

Kingozi choked back an impulse to shout aloud. 

"It is yours, " he said gravely. 

"Oh, _bwana! bwana!_" choked Simba. "_Assanti! assanti sana!_"

His sob was echoed at Kingozi's elbow. 

"Oh, " cried the Leopard Woman, "I know I should be sorry that this hascome this way! But I'm not; I am glad!"

CHAPTER XXX

WINKLEMAN APPEARS

With the riches thus unexpectedly placed at his disposal, and legitimatelyhis by the fortunes of war, Kingozi was enabled to proceed to the finalgrand exchange of gifts that assured his friendship with M'tela and sealedthe 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 diplomaticnegotiations that had gone before, he arrived at an understanding. 

"And now, oh, King, I must tell you this, " he said boldly. "Of white menthere 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 ofdifferent tribes. Of the tribes are the _Inglishee_ to which I belong, which is the most powerful of all--like your own people of the Kabilaganiin this land--and also another tribe called the _Duyche_, only a littleless powerful. These two tribes are now at war. "

"A-a-a-a, " observed M'tela interestedly. 

"One of the _Duyche_ is in your country, oh, King. I have met him anddefeated him by my magic. Some of these people you see here were hispeople; and of his goods I have everything. "

"But it may be, " suggested M'tela with a slight cooling of cordiality, "that many more _Duyche_ will follow this one. "

"They cannot prevail against my magic. Talk with Simba, with my men, andknow what virtue is in my magic. But beyond that, oh, King, have you notheard of the wars of the Wakamba? of Lobengula? of the Matabele and theBasuto? has not news come to you from the north of the battles of theSudan? Have you not heard of Lenani, the king of all Masai, and of hisadvice to his people? All these wars were won by _Inglishee_; Lenani'swords of wisdom spoke of _Inglishee_. Have you ever heard of the victoriesof the _Duyche?_ No. There were no such victories!"[18]

[Footnote 18: Kingozi here took shrewd advantage of the fact that GermanEast Africa was peacefully occupied without necessity of the spectaculartribal wars of Matabeland, Zululand, Basutoland, and the Wakamba districtof British East Africa. Lenani's advice to his people was given at theclose of the Wakamba war. Said he: "There is no doubt that the Masai are agreater people than the Wakamba, and in case of war we could fight thewhite man harder than the Wakamba fought him. Undoubtedly, too, my peoplecould kill a great many of the English. But this I have noticed: that whena Wakamba is dead, he remains dead; but when a white man is dead ten morecome to take his place. " In consequence of this advice the Masai--one ofthe most warlike of all the tribes--negotiated with the English, and todayremain both at peace and unconquered. ]

After an hour's elaboration of this theme Kingozi judged the momentpropitious to return to the original subject. M'tela offered theopportunity. 

"This _Duyche_ whom you have conquered--you killed him?"

"He escaped. "

"A-a-a-a. "

"He is still alive and in your land. Let order be given to search himout. "

"That shall be done, " said M'tela after a moment's thought. 

Mali-ya-bwana and Simba set out with a posse of M'tela's men. They had nogreat difficulty in getting track of the missing Bavarian. Winkleman hadarrived to find the camping site deserted. He had, indomitably, set out onthe track of his safari. To eat he was forced at last to beg of the wildherdsmen. M'tela's dread name elicited from these last definiteinformation. The search party found Winkleman, very dirty, quite hungry, profoundly chagrined, but still good humoured, seated in a smoky huteating soured smoky milk. He wore sandals improvised from goatskin, a hatand spine-pad made from banana leaves ingeniously woven. 

[Illustration: "The search party found Winkleman, very dirty, quitehungry, profoundly chagrined"]

"_Ach!_" he cried, recognizing Kingozi's two men. "So it is you! What haveyou done with my safari?"

"I led it to my _bwana_, " replied Simba. 

"Where you may now lead me, " said Winkleman resignedly. "By what meanshave you thought of these things, N'ympara?" "By the magic of this, "replied Simba with becoming modesty, producing the precious bone. 

"_Ach_ the _saurian!_" cried Winkleman. "I remember. It had gone from mymind. It is a curious type; I do not quite recognize. Let me see it. "

But Simba was replacing carefully the talisman in its wrappings. He had nomind to deliver the magic into other hands--perhaps to be used againsthimself!

They led Winkleman directly to Kingozi's camp. Winkleman followed, lookingalways curiously about him. His was the true scientific mind. He was quitecapable of forgetting his plight--and did so--in the interest of new faunaand flora, or of ethnological eccentricities. Once or twice he insisted ona halt for examination of something that caught his notice, and insistedso peremptorily when the savages would have forced him on, that theyyielded to his wish. 

It was early in the morning. Kingozi, as ever, sat in his canvas chairatop the hill. He was alone, for the Leopard Woman, always on the alertand always staring through her glasses, had caught sight of the littlegroup before it plunged into the papyrus; and had retired to her tent. Winkleman plowed up the hill blowing out his cheeks in a full-bloodedhearty fashion. 

"Oho!" he cried in his great voice when he had drawn near. "This is not sobad! It is Culbertson!"

"I am sorry about this, " said Kingozi briefly--"a man of your eminence--very disagreeable. "

Winkleman dropped heavily to the ground. 

"That is nothing, " he waved aside the half-apology, "though it would notbe bad to have the bath and change these clothes. But fortunes of war--itis but the fortunes of war--I would have done worse to you. How long is itthat you have arrived?"

"Long enough, " replied Kingozi briefly. "Oh, Cazi Moto, bring tea! I havehad your tent pitched, Doctor Winkleman; and you must bathe and change andrest. 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 toescape nor to tamper with my men, with M'tela, or any of his people. Ifyou feel you cannot do this I shall be compelled to hold you closelyguarded. "

Winkleman laughed one of his great gusty laughs. 

"I give it willingly. What foolishness otherwise. What foolishness anyway, all this. War is nonsense. It destroys. It interferes. Consider, my dearCulbertson, here was I safely in the Congo forests, and for two, threemonths I have lived there, like a native quietly; and of all the worldthere is to amuse me only the fauna and the flora--which I know like myhand. But I discover a new species--a _papilio_. But all the time I livequiet, 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! Theyhave run away. But I wait; and they come forth. So I camp by myself in theforest--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 truesex-denoting language most resembling in that respect the ancient Fula!"

"Where was this? Impossible!" cried Kingozi, interested and excited. 

"Ah!" roared Winkleman with satisfaction. "I thought I would your interestcatch! But it is true; and in the central Congo. "

"But that would throw the prehistoric Libyan and Hamitic migrationsfarther to the west than----"

"Pre-cisely!" interrupted Winkleman. 

"What sort of people were they? Did they show Hamitic characteristicsparticularly? or did they incline to the typical prognathous, short-legged, stealopygous type of the Bushmen?"

But Winkleman reverted abruptly to his narrative. 

"That is a long discussion to make. It will wait. But just as I get thesepeople where I can put them beneath my observation, so, there comes anober-lieutenant with foolishness in the way of guns and uniform and_askaris_ and that nonsense; and my little people run into the forest andare no more to be seen. "

"Hard luck!" commented Kingozi feelingly. 

"Is it not so? This ober-lieutenant is a fool. He knows nothing. _Dumkopf!_ All he knows is to give me a letter from the _Kaiserlichedumkopf_ at Dar-es-salaam. I read it. It tells me I must come here, tothis place, with speed, and get the military aid of this M'tela and soforth with many details. It was another foolishness. I know this type ofpeople well. There is nothing new to be learned. They are of the usualtypes. It is foolishness to come here. But it is an order, so I come, andI do my best. But now I am a prisoner, while I might be with the littlepeople in the Congo. I talk much. "

"I fancy we are going to have a good deal to talk about, " interjectedKingozi. 

"_Ach!_ that is true! That is what I said--that I am glad this isCulbertson who catches me. Yes! We must talk!"

Cazi Moto glided to them. 

"Bath is ready, _bwana_, " said he. 

Winkleman puffed out his chest and protruded his great beard. 

"This war--foolishness!" he mumbled. 

"Yes, we have much to talk about. Nevertheless, " said Kingozi with slightembarrassment, "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 mineto find you; and now, as you can well comprehend, I must----"

But Winkleman's quick comprehension leaped ahead of Kingozi's speech. 

"I must play the prisoner, is it not?" he cried with one of his biglaughs. "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?"

"That is well, " said Kingozi, much relieved, "I shall tell him that youare a man of much wisdom and great magic; and that I have saved your lifeto serve me. "

"So!" cried Winkleman delightedly; and departed to his tent and thewaiting bath. A few moments later he could be heard robustly splashing inthe tent. A roar summoned Cazi Moto. 

"Tell your _bwana_ I want _n'dowa_--medicine--understand? Need some boricacid, " he yelled at Kingozi. "Eyes in bad shape. "

Kingozi ordered Cazi Moto to take over the entire medicine chest; thensent a messenger for M'tela, who shortly appeared. 

"This enemy of mine is taken, thanks to your men, oh, King. I have himhere in the tent, well guarded. "

"How shall we kill him, papa?" inquired M'tela. 

"That has not yet been decided, " replied Kingozi carelessly. "He must, ofcourse, be taken to the great King of all _Inglishee_. "

M'tela looked disappointed. 

"In the meantime, " pursued Kingozi, "as he has much knowledge, and greatmagic, I shall talk much with him, and get that magic for the benefit ofus both, oh, King. He cannot escape, for my magic is greater than his. "

This M'tela well believed, for the reports industriously circulated bySimba anent his magic bone had reached the King, and had not lost intransit. 

So when Winkleman came swashbuckling up the hill M'tela was prepared. Theblue-black beard and hearty, deep-chested carriage of the Bavarianimpressed him greatly. 

"But this is a great _bwana_, papa, " he said to Kingozi. "Like you andme. "

"This is the prisoner of which I spoke to you, " said Kingozi in a loudvoice. 

Winkleman, a twinkle in his wide eyes, but with his countenance composedto gravity, stepped forward, salaamed, and placed his forehead beneathKingozi's hand in token of submission. Thus proper relations wereestablished. Winkleman seated himself humbly on the sod, and kept silence, while high converse went forward. At length M'tela departed. Winklemanimmediately plunged into the conversational gap around which, mentally, hehad been, impatiently hovering for an hour. 

"But this articulation of the _saurus_" he broke out. "What of it?"

"The magic bone, " chuckled Kingozi. 

"Pouf! Pouf! It resembled much the _cinoliosaurus_, but that could notbe. "

"Why not?" demanded Kingozi quickly. 

"It has been found only in the lias formations of the Jurassic, " statedWinkleman dogmatically, "and that type of Jurassic is not here. It is ofEngland, yes; of Germany, yes; of the Americas, yes. Of central Africa, no!"

"Nevertheless----" interposed Kingozi. 

"But the _cryptoclidus_--that greatly resembles the _cinoliosaurus_--perhaps. Or even a subspecies of the _plesiosaurus_----"

"Simba, " called Kingozi. 

"Suh!"

"Bring here the magic bone. The _bwana_ wishes to look at it. No; it isall right. I myself tell you; no harm can come. "

Reluctantly Simba produced the bone, now fittingly wrapped in clean_mericani_ cloth, and still more reluctantly undid it and handed it toWinkleman. The latter seized it and began minutely to examine it, muttering short, disconnected sentences to himself in German. 

"Now here is what I have said, " he spoke aloud. "See. By this curve----"

He broke off, staring curiously into Kingozi's face. The latter satapparently looking out across the hills, paying no attention to the factthat Winkleman had thrust the bone fairly under his nose. The pause thatensued became noticeable. Kingozi stirred uneasily, turning his eyes inthe direction of the scientist. 

"Glaucoma!" ejaculated Winkleman. 

Kingozi smiled wearily. 

"Yes. I wondered when you would find it out. "

"You are all blind?"

"I can distinguish light. " Kingozi straightened his back, and his voicebecame incisive. "But I can still see through eyes that are faithful tome! Make no mistakes there. "

"My dear friend; have I not given my parole?" gently asked the Bavarian. 

"Beg your pardon. Of course. "

"It is serious. You should have a surgeon. But why have you not used thetemporary remedy? Of course you know the effect of drugs?"

"I know that atropin is ruin, right enough, " said Kingozi grimly. 

"But the pilocarpin----"

"Of course. I only wish I had some. "

"But you have!" came Winkleman's astonished voice. "There is of it a largevial!"

Kingozi gripped the arm of his chair for a full minute. Then he spoke toCazi Moto in a vibrating voice. 

"Bring me the chest of medicines. Now, " he went on to Winkleman, when thiscommand had been executed, "kindly read to me the labels on all thesebottles; begin at the left. All, please. "

He listened attentively while Winkleman obeyed. The pilocarpin waspresent; the atropin was gone. 

"You have not deceived me?" he cried sharply. "No--why shouldyou--wait----"

He thought for some moments. When he raised his face it was gray. 

"One of the bottles was broken. I had reason to believe it thepilocarpin, " he said quietly. "Can I trespass on your good nature to makethe proper solution for my eyes?"

"It is but a temporary expedient, " warned Winkleman. "It is surgery heredemanded. I know the operation, but I cannot perform. One makes atransverse incision above the cornea----"

"I know, I know, " interrupted Kingozi. "But the pilocarpin will give me mysight. Let us get at it. "

CHAPTER XXXI

LIGHT AGAIN

Three hours later Kingozi stepped into the open, his vision cleared. Suchis often the marvellous--though temporary--effect of the proper remediesin this disease. He looked about him with a thankfulness not to beunderstood save by one whose sight has been thus unexpectedly restored. Winkleman followed him full of deep sympathy. 

"But I understand, " he repeated over and over, "but it is like water on aweary march, _nicht wahr_. But this is bad, very bad! You say it has beengoing on for a month? And a month back! Too late. _Ach, schrecklich!_ Itis so much a pity! You have, the youth, the strength, the knowledge! Youcould so far go! But you must learn the dictation; the great book, the_magnum opus_, it is there. Cheer up, my boy! Work, much work! That iswhat 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 indicatesto me----"

Winkleman produced the saurian bone. And for the first time Kingozinoticed Simba hovering anxiously near. Request and blandishments hadproved of no avail in getting the magic bone from _Bwana_ Nyele. 

"It is all right, " Kingozi reassured him. "We but use the magic for alittle while. See; it has given me back my eyes. "

"A-a-a-a!" ejaculated Simba, deeply astonished. 

"We will use it but a little while longer, " Kingozi concluded. "Then youshall have it again. "

"But to give this specimen to a gun bearer!" cried Winkleman in English. "That is craziness! It is a museum piece. "

"It belongs to him; and I have promised, " said Kingozi. 

Winkleman subsided with deep rumblings. After a moment he renewed hisdiscussion. 

Kingozi only half heard him. His mind was occupied by another, more humanproblem. The discovery that the atropin and not the pilocarpin had beendestroyed agitated him profoundly; not, as might be believed, because itenabled him at a critical time to regain the use of his sight, but becauseit threw before him an insistent question. Did, or did not, Bibi-ya-chuiknow? He recalled the incident in all its little details--himself in hischair 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, andher 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 wildlaugh. 

Did she know, or was she guessing or bluffing?

It hurt him, hurt him inconceivably to think that she might have deceivedhim thus; might have broken the wrong bottle, and then deliberately havekept him in darkness with the very remedy at hand. That would seem therefinement of cruelty. 

But he must be fair. She was then fighting, fighting with all her poweragainst odds, for her sworn duty. Deceit was her natural weapon. And atthat time such deceit seemed very likely to win for her her point. No, hecould not blame her there; he could not consistently even feel hurt. Thefew moments' reasoning brought him to the point where he did not feelhurt. After a little he even admired the quickness of wit. 

The instinctive depression vanished before this reasoning. He suddenlybecame light-hearted. 

But immediately the dark mood returned. Granted all this; how about thelast two days? Before that it might well be that her sense of duty to hercountry, her firmness of spirit, her honour itself would impel her tocling to the last hope of gaining her end. Until his influence over M'telawas quite assured, Winkleman's arrival would probably turn the scale. Shehad not prevented Kingozi's arriving before the Bavarian; but she mighthold the Englishman comparatively powerless. That was understandable. Kingozi felt he might even love her the more for this evidence of afaithful spirit. But the last few days! It must have become evident to herthat her cause was lost; that M'tela's friendship had been gained for theEnglish. If she had cared for him the least in the world would not shehave hastened to produce the pilocarpin for his relief? What could shehope to gain by concealing it? And then the other words insisted on hisrecollection, bitter words--when, first blinded, he had asked her to readthe labels on the bottle that would have given him sight. "Why should I dothis for you? You have treated me as a man treats his dog, his horse, hisservant, 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 atleast remain indifferent to him? So indifferent that even after her chancehad passed she still neglected to inform him that the pilocarpin was notdestroyed after all. 

Winkleman talked on and on about his saurian. Would he never stop and goaway?

"I agree with you; you are probably right, " said Kingozi at last, drivenby sheer desperation to the endorsement of he knew not what scientificheresy. Winkleman snorted heavily in triumph, and returned the bone to avastly relieved Simba. Kingozi interposed in haste before the introductionof a new topic. 

"Undoubtedly you will wish to see the palace of M'tela, " said he with deepwile. "Of course you are supposed to be my prisoner, so I must send youunder guard. You might take a small present to M'tela from me. I have notyet visited his place of course. This might be considered a preliminary tomy first visit. Does it appeal to you?"

"But yes! And I shall behave. I have given my parole. I shall be the goodboy!"

"Of course. I understand that. Do you eat at noon? No? Well, good luck. Cazi Moto, take Mali-ya-bwana and two _askari_ guns, and go with _Bwana_Nyele to the palace of M'tela. "

Scarcely had the group disappeared down the forest path when Kingozi wasat the tent door of the Leopard Woman. 

"_Hodie?_" he pronounced the native word of one desiring entrance. 

"Who is there?" she asked in Swahili. 

"I--Culbertson. "

A slight pause; then her voice:

"Come. "

He drew aside the tent flaps and entered. She was half reclining on thecot, her back raised by pillows stuffed with sweet grass. Her silkgarment, carelessly arranged, had fallen partly open, so that the gleam ofher flesh showed tantalizingly here and there. The blood leaped toKingozi's forehead. She did not alter her pose. Suddenly he realized: ofcourse, she thought him blind!

The embarrassment met his sterner mood in a head-on collision, so that fora moment the impulsive speech failed him. She spoke first. 

"That was Winkleman, I suppose, " she said. "I did not want to appear. Whatis decided?"

"Decided?" he stammered, not knowing where to look, but unable to keep hiseyes from straying. 

"Yes. Is it too late? Can he prevail with this M'tela after all?"

"He is my prisoner; he has given his parole. "

"Oh!" she exclaimed, raising herself on her elbow in excitement. Theabrupt movement dropped the robe from her shoulder. "You can see!" shecried; and huddled the garment about her in a panic. "You can see!" sherepeated amazedly. "How is that? What has happened?"

The words brought him to himself and to his need for definite knowledge. 

"Winkleman read the labels on my bottles, " he said sternly. "I have simplyused the pilocarpin. "

"The pilocarpin! But that was destroyed!"

So unmistakably genuine was her cry of amazement that Kingozi's heartleaped with joy. She had not known! He took a step toward the couch. 

But at this moment a wild hullabaloo broke out in the camp. Men yelled andshouted. Some one began to blow a horn. There came the sound of manyrunning to and fro. "Damn!" ejaculated Kingozi fervently; and ran out ofthe tent. 

CHAPTER XXXII

THE COLOURS

The whole camp was gathered about a number of M'tela's people, who wereall talking at once. The din was something prodigious. Kingozi pushed hisway rather angrily to the centre of disturbance. 

"Here, what is this?" he demanded to know. 

But a dead, astonished silence fell upon them all. They stared at himgaping. 

"What is it?" repeated Kingozi impatiently. 

"But _bwana!_" cried Cazi Moto. "You see!"

"That is a magic, " replied Kingozi curtly. "Now what is all this _kalele_about?"

"Bwana, these people say that messengers have come in telling of manywhite men and _askaris_ marching in this direction. "

"From where? But that does not matter--are they _Inglishee_ or _Duyche?_"

"These _shenzis_ do not know the difference. "

"That is true. How far away are they?"

"Very near, _bwana_. "

"Get my gun. Have Simba follow me. Here, you lead the way. " They marchedrapidly through the forest path and past the palace of M'tela, whichKingozi had never seen. The savage king came out, and Winkleman and hisbodyguard soon followed. 

"Oh, King, " said Kingozi. "Now is the time to show to me that yourfriendship is true. As you know, other white men are coming, withwarriors. I do not know yet whether these are _Inglishee_, who are myfriends--and yours--or _Duyche_, who are my enemies. If they are _Duyche_they must be attacked and killed or captured, for we are at war. "

He watched M'tela carefully while he spoke, and felt satisfaction at whathe saw. 

"Have no fear, papa, " replied M'tela easily. "I will cause the great drumsto be beaten. My warriors are as the leaves of the grass; and these arefew. "

"Nevertheless they will kill many of yours, " said Kingozi with greatearnestness; "for they have guns that kill many times and at a longdistance. When your warriors hear the great noise they make, and see thedead 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 otherhalf will give these to the hyenas. Yes, even if they had the thunderitself as weapon!"

"How many are there, oh, King?" asked Kingozi, greatly relieved. 

"My men report thirty-one white men and many black men. "

"I go now, " advised Kingozi, "to look upon these men. Give me guides, anda messenger to send back with news of what I find. "

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 hadreached the forest edge the great war drums began to roar. 

The guides took them swiftly down the forest path and across the rollingcountry with the groves. Kingozi looked at it all with curiosity anddelight. It seemed to him that never in all his wanderings had he seen sobeautiful and variegated a prospect. His blindness had overtaken him, itmust be remembered, out on the open dry veldt, between the Great and theLittle Rains. It was as though he had awakened from a sleep to findhimself in this watered, green, and wooded paradise. 

At the top of a hill the guide stopped and pointed. Kingozi gathered thatthrough the distant cleft he indicated the strangers must come. All satdown and waited. 

[Illustration: "At the top of the hill the guide stopped and pointed. Kingozi gathered that through the distant cleft he indicated the strangersmust come"]

An hour passed. Simba uttered an exclamation. Kingozi raised his glasses. Tiny figures on foot were debouching from the forest. They spread in alldirections, advancing in fan-formation. Evidently the scouts. Then moretiny figures, figures on horseback. Kingozi counted them. There were, asM'tela had said, just thirty-one; a gallant little band, but at thisdistance indistinguishable. They rode out some distance. And at last thefirst files of the black troops appeared. Kingozi dropped his glasses tothe end of its thong with a cheer. Drooping in the still air the colourswere nevertheless easily recognized. The flag was of England. 

"_Inglishee! Inglishee!_" he repeated to M'tela's messengers, and made amotion back toward the palace. The men departed at a lope. Kingozi andSimba took the other direction. 

They met the newcomers halfway across the long, shallow dish between thewooded hills. On catching sight of them the mounted white men spurredforward. A confusion of greetings stormed them. 

"It's Culbertson!" "Where did _you_ rain down from?" "We've been lookingfor you without end! Isn't this a lark, old man!"

In the meantime, in the personal attendants of these white men, Simba haddiscovered acquaintances; among them the two messengers Kingozi haddespatched back in quest of Doctor McCloud. 

Kingozi stood in the middle of the group, his heart overflowing. It wasgood to see so many white faces again; it was good to see the faces offriends; it was good to know that his labours had not been in vain, andthat the border was assured. And underneath it was a great exaltation. Hewalked on air. For she had not known! The blank astonishment of her facehad proved that to him beyond a doubt. She really thought that she haddestroyed the pilocarpin; she had not deliberately held from him the lightof day!

His high spirits expressed themselves in an animation and volubility sounlike the taciturn Culbertson that many of his acquaintances stared. 

"Seems quite bucked up, " commented one to another. "Must have had a deuceof a time back here. "

"What is this arm of His Majesty's Service, anyway?" Kingozi was asking ingeneral. "I mean the mounted and disreputable portion, not the decentinfantry. "

"This, my son, is the Settlers' Own Irregulars; and we've come out for tohunt the shy and elusive German. "

"Good heads scarce up this way, " rejoined Kingozi. "I've caught onespecimen myself, however. "

"Specimen of what?"

"German. Ever hear of Winkleman?"

"Rather! The native _fundi?_[19] You don't mean to say you've got him!"

[Footnote 19: Fundi--expert. ]

"I've got him. He's the only specimen in these parts. But I can show youseveral thousand of the best fighting men in Africa--all loyal Britishallies. "

"Good man!" cried a grizzled old settler. "I told 'em you'd do it!"

"But the war?" demanded Kingozi eagerly. "What of the war? Tell me? I knownothing whatever. "

One of the younger men dismounted and insisted on delivering his animal toKingozi. 

"Do me good to stretch my legs, " said he. "And you've walked your share. "

Riding in a little group of the officers Kingozi listened attentively toan account of affairs as far as they were known. The Marne, and theRetreat from Mons straightened him in his saddle. It was worth it; he haddone his bit! Whatever the price, it was worth it!

The account finished, Captain Walsh began questioning in his turn. 

"Excellent!" he greeted Kingozi's account. "Couldn't be better! We havereasons to believe that the water-holes on this route are mapped by theGermans. "

"They are, " interrupted Kingozi. 

"And that the plan contemplated coming through here, gathering the tribesas they advanced, and finally cutting in on us with a big force from therear. "

"They'll run against a stone wall hereabouts, " said Kingozi withsatisfaction. 

"Lucky for us. I've only four companies--and these settlers. We are reallyonly a reconnaissance. "

"How did you happen to follow my route?"

"Ran against the messengers you sent back to get Doctor McCloud. Theyguided us. By the way, what is it? Must have been serious. You're not aman to run to panics. You look fit enough now. "

"Eyes, " explained Kingozi. His heart sank, for the failure of hismessengers to go on after McCloud took away the last small hope of savinghis eyesight. 

"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----"

They rode forward slowly through the high, aromatic grasses, discussingearnestly every angle of policy to be assumed in regard to M'tela. At itsclose all the white men were called together and given instructions. Eventhe youngest and most flippant knew natives well enough to realize thevalue of the structure Kingozi had built, and to listen attentively. 

These alternate marches and halts had permitted the foot troops to closeup. Kingozi turned in his saddle to look at them. Fine, upstanding blackmen they were, marching straight and soldierly, neat in their uniforms ofkhaki, with the dull red tarboush, the blue leggings, the bare knees andfeet. They were picked troops from the Sudan, these, fighting men bybirth, whose chief tradition was that in case his colonel was killed noman 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 menbrought up the rear. 

Now they entered the cool forest trail. The sound of distant drums becameaudible. Men straightened in their saddles. Captain Walsh gave crisporders. They entered the cleared space before M'tela's palace with coloursflying and snare drums tapping briskly. 

The full force of M'tela's power seemed to have been gathered, gorgeous inthe panoply of war. The forest threw back the roar of drums, of horns, ofpeople chanting or shouting. Straight to the middle of the square marchedthe Sudanese, wheeled smartly into line. At a command they raised theirrifles and fired a volley, the first gunfire ever heard in this ancientforest. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

CURTAIN

The sun was setting. In a few minutes more the swift darkness would fall. After delivering the astonishing volley the troops wheeled and underKingozi'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 ofthese thousands of proud _shenzis_ the Sudanese stepped forth jauntily. Camping places were designated. All was activity as the tents were raised. 

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 werecovered with dust and apparently very glad to arrive. One of them rodedirectly to the group of officers and dismounted stiffly. 

"McCloud!" cried Kingozi. 

"The same, " replied that efficient surgeon. "And now let's see the eyes. Ihave your scrawl. " He stumped forward, looking keenly for what he wanted. "Sit here in this chair. Boy!" he bawled. "_Lete taa_--bring the lantern. And my case of knives. No, my lad, I'm not going to operate on youinstanter, 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. " Hewent methodically forward with his examination as though he were at homein 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 silentgroup. A sudden grave realization of the situation had descended uponthem, sobering their careless or laughing countenances. No one knewexactly what it was all about, but some had caught the word "blindness"and repeated it to others. Some one yelled "_kalale_" savagely at thechattering men. Almost a dead stillness fell on the clearing, so that inthe falling twilight the tree hyraxes took heart and began to utter theirdemoniac screams. The darkness came down softly. Soon the group in thecentre turned to silhouettes against the light of the two lanterns heldhead high on either side the patient. 

Absorbedly Doctor McCloud proceeded. Kingozi sat quietly, turning his headto either side, raising or lowering his chin as he was requested to do so. At last McCloud straightened his back. 

"It is glaucoma right enough, " said he; "fairly advanced. The pilocarpinhas been a palliative. An operation is called for--iridectomy. "

He paused, wiping his mirror. Nobody dared ask the question that Kingozihimself at last propounded. 

"Can you do it--have you the necessary instruments?'"

"Fine spade scalpel, small tweezers, scissors--_and_ a lot of experience. I've got all the former. "

"And the latter?"

"I've done the operation before, " said McCloud dryly. 

"Will it restore my sight permanently. "

"If successful the job will be permanent. "

"What chance of success?"

"Fair--fair, " rejoined McCloud with a touch of impatience. "How can Itell? But I'll just inform you of this, my lad, without the operationyou're stone blind for the rest of your days, and it must be done now ornot at all. So there's your Hobson's choice; and we'll get at itcomfortably in the morning. "

He turned away and stopped with a frank stare of astonishment. The othermen followed his gaze, and also stared. 

The Leopard Woman stood just within the circle of illumination. So intentwas she on the examination and on Kingozi that she seemed utterlyunconscious of the men standing over opposite. Her soft silk robe fellabout her body in classic folds; the single jewel on its chain filletblazed on her forehead; her hair fell in its braid to her hips, and herwide, gray-green eyes were fixed on the seated man. A more startlinglyexotic figure for the wilds of Central Africa could not be imagined. Theexpressions on the faces of the newcomers were varied enough, to be sure, but all had a common groundwork of fair imbecility. 

[Illustration: "So intent was the Leopard Woman on the examination thatshe seemed utterly unconscious of the men standing over opposite. "]

She seemed to be unaware of even their presence. When. McCloud hadpronounced his opinion, she glided forward and laid her hand on Kingozi'sshoulder. 

"I am glad--but I am afraid, " she said softly. Kingozi covered her handwith one of his own. His eyes twinkled with quiet amusement as he lookedabout him at the stricken faces of his friends. She whirled on the gapingMcCloud. "But you must have a care!" she cried at him vehemently. "Youmust save his eyes. I wish it!"

McCloud, recovering himself, bowed. 

"Madam, " said he with a faint, amused irony. "It shall be my pleasure todo my best in fulfilling your commands. "

"It must be, " she repeated; and turned to face the rest. "He is a greatman; 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 onewho--what you call--subdues a child. And he is generous, and brave, andwhen the darkness comes to him he does not sit and weep. He is a greatsoul, and all things must be done!"

She was superb, her head thrown back. Captain Walsh was the first torecover from the stunned condition in which all found themselves. Hebowed. 

"Madam, " said he, "in what you say we heartily concur. We add our urgenceto yours. You must forgive our stupidity to the surprise of yourappearance. Even yet my astonishment has not abated. " He turned easily toKingozi: "I hope you will afford me the pleasure of naming me to madam. "

Kingozi arose to his feet. 

"I do not know your name, " he muttered to her. 

"I am the Leopard Woman, " she smiled back on him enigmatically. 

Kingozi paused, embarrassed as to what to do. He could not use that namein an introduction to these men. She was looking at him mischievously. 

"Captain Walsh--and gentlemen, " said Kingozi suddenly, "I want thepleasure of presenting you to--my future wife!"

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 ownsenses--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 seenthe glory that shone from within when Kingozi had pronounced hisintroduction. Captain Walsh was speaking. 

"This is an occasion, " he said, "and the King's African Rifles cannot haveit otherwise than that you become their guests. I see our camp is inpreparation. We have nothing beyond the ordinary stores, but you must alldine with us. " He paused, considering. "Say in an hour, " he continued. "Itmust be early, for I do not doubt we must receive his royal highness thisevening. "

"You're right, " said Kingozi, "and unless I miss my guess it will be anall-night job. "

The travel-wearied men groaned. 

"No help for it, " said Captain Walsh cheerfully. 

They pressed forward to shake the hands of this strange couple. TheLeopard Woman carried herself with the ease and poise of one accustomed toreceiving homage. She had drawn near Kingozi again, and managed to reachout and press his arm. 

"Ye'll be married soon, I'm thinking, " surmised McCloud. 

"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. "

"We shall be married soon--now, if there is a priest among you!" cried theLeopard Woman vehemently, "As for poor man--pouf!" She turned to Walshwith an engaging smile. "And you, where you came, did you pass the peoplewho live in the mountains back there, with a _sultani_ who dressed inblack----"

"I know, " supplemented Captain Walsh, "very well. "

"The _sultani_ whose place has a fortified gate. "

"Really? We did not get to his village; too much of a hurry. "

The Leopard Woman shot a glance at Kingozi. He saw the triumph in it, andunderstood. The ivory stockade was unknown to any but themselves; stillremained there in all its wealth awaiting the first trader. And thattrader should be himself!

"Poor, indeed!" she whispered to him. 

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 doorof his tent. He was in pajamas, and his thick hair was tousled about. 

"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. Theystiffened in surprise as he caught sight of the Leopard Woman. For asecond he stared; then dropped his arms with one of his big, gusty laughs. 

"_Kolossal!_" he roared. "The Countess Miklos! I was wondering! So he hascaptured you, too, has he!"

With a simple and unembarrassed gesture she laid her arm across Kingozi'sshoulders. 

"But yes, " she repeated softly. "He has captured me, too. "

At the tiny fire burning before the tent reserved for the headmen of thecamp sat Simba, Cazi Moto, and Mali-ya-bwana. The bone of the _saurian_lay before Simba, who was bragging. 

"Great is the magic of this bone, which is mine. It has brought us a longjourney; it has won us the friendship of the great chief; it has revealedto us much riches in the teeth of _tembo_, the elephant, though that mustnot be spoken aside from us three; it has restored the light to _Bwana_Kingozi, our master; it has captured for us a great _bwana_ and a richsafari; it has brought to us _Bwana_ Bunduki[20] and many _bwanas_ and_askaris_; it has brought to our master a woman for his own--though to besure there are many women. Great is this magic; and it is mine. With it Ishall be lucky always. "

[Footnote 20: The Master of the Rifle--Captain Walsh. ]

"A-a-a-a!" agreed Cazi Moto and Mali-ya-bwana respectfully. 

From the darkened mysterious forest the tree hyraxes, excited by thenumerous fires and the voices of so large an encampment, were wailing andshrieking. 

"The dead are restless tonight, " said Simba, poking the fire.