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They talked at great length, without bothering to remove the dead headman. The result was finally a continued respect for Simba, his magic bone, and his ready rifle; but a lingering though polite incredulity as to the matter of Winkleman Bwana Nyele. It was possible that Simba had killed the latter, of course. But to have taken him alive and to be holding him prisoner
His horse was a stout little Abyssinian shooting pony, gray of color and lean in build, and in the blood-stained saddle-bag was a well-worn copy of Macaulay's Essays, bound in pigskin. Our hero for it was he was none other than Bwana Tumbo, the hunter-naturalist, exponent of the strenuous life, and ex-president of the United States.
"Let me have it," he ordered. It was passed into his hands, and proved to be one of the two oil lanterns kept for emergencies. But Kingozi sent the headman for one of the candle lanterns in everyday use, and a half-dozen short candles. "These are better," he said; "and qua heri, Simba. If you do these things well, large backsheeshi for you all." "Qua heri, bwana" said Simba, and was gone.
"Nevertheless," said Mali-ya-bwana, who as co-leader was privileged to more 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 take prisoner a mighty bwana like this, surely it is powerful enough to fight also against safari men."
"Move your camp up close to the river below my boys' camp and make yourself at home." They had reached the verandah now and Bwana was introducing the stranger to Meriem and My Dear, who had just come from the bungalow's interior. "This is Mr. Hanson," he said, using the name the man had given him. "He is a trader who has lost his way in the jungle to the south."
She buried her face on the kindly bosom and wept as she had not wept before in all her life tears of relief and joy that she could not fathom. And so came Meriem, the savage little Mangani, out of her beloved jungle into the midst of a home of culture and refinement. Already "Bwana" and "My Dear," as she first heard them called and continued to call them, were as father and mother to her.
"Go to your room, Meriem," he said; "and Baynes, if you will step into my study, I'd like to have a word with you in a moment." He stepped toward Hanson as the others turned to obey him. There was something about Bwana even in his gentlest moods that commanded instant obedience. "How did you happen to be with them, Hanson?" he asked.
Kingozi's witnesses would have been called solely for the purpose of furnishing information to himself. He needed only one piece of information here, and that only one witness could furnish him the man before him. "Why did you kill Mavrouki?" he demanded. "I did not kill Mavrouki, bwana." "That is a lie," rejoined Kingozi calmly. Chake became voluble.
He understood why he had wished to move the northern camp as far as possible toward the northern boundary of the Big Bwana's country it would give him far more time to make his escape toward the West Coast while the Big Bwana was chasing the northern contingent. Well, he would utilize the man's plans to his own end. He, too, must keep out of the clutches of his host.
"It is this: I would have the magic bone for 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 has come this way! But I'm not; I am glad!"
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