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Twenty minutes beyond the dead man they came upon three porters sitting by the wayside. They were men in the last extremity of thirst and exhaustion, their eyes wide and vacant, their tongues so swollen that their teeth were held apart. Nothing was to be done here, so Kingozi marched by. Then he came upon a half-dozen bags of potio.
The time for fencing is over. I know perfectly that you are sent by your government to make treaty with M'tela. And I know," she added with the graciousness of one who has got back to sure ground, "that no one could do it better; and no one as well." "Except Winkleman," said Kingozi simply. "Except Winkleman perhaps." "As you say, the time for fencing is over," pursued Kingozi. "That is true.
"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 I find that which people tell me cannot be done, that I do at once.
The Leopard Woman's eyes glittered dangerously, but she controlled herself. "You talk like a sultan yourself," she protested at length. "You should not 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 when it does not interfere with serious things.
As he leaned forward to place another bottle for Cazi Moto to copy from, she gathered her forces, rushed forward between them, snatched the vial, and dashed it violently against a rock, where it naturally broke into innumerable pieces. Cazi Moto stared up at her, astounded into immobility. Kingozi, without a trace of emotion, leaned back in his chair. "I think I am losing my wits," he remarked.
Indeed, in the candour of his own inner communings Kingozi acknowledged that he and the German, Winkleman, alone could be held really fitted for that sort of negotiation. But if she were? Why did she not say so? Their object would be the same. It was as much to Germany's interest to pacify, to make friendly this hinterland before the advent of the Boundary Commission. All this was a puzzle.
The askaris lay quietly face down until their mistress gave the word, then leaped to their feet, saluted smartly, seized their guns, and marched jauntily to their appointed positions. The woman watched them for a moment, and turned back to Kingozi. Her mood had completely changed. The orgy of punishment had cleared away the nervous effects of the fright she had undergone.
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 for comparison his own sketch maps. The German map was a more finished product; otherwise they were practically the same.
"Yes, it is from Winkleman. He has come in from the Congo side. When this letter was written he was only ten days' march from M'tela." "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 know whether it was a good plan or that I have been thick.
"You see?" He heard only a choked sob of rage and impotence. After waiting a minute he resumed: "Do my command. Let three men, in turn, give the kiboko. You, Simba, see that they strike hard." A faint clink of manacles indicated that the guards had laid hands on their victim. "Wait!" cried the Leopard Woman in a strangled voice. Kingozi raised his hand. "You you brute!" she cried.
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