United States or China ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Chake shivered and wished he had brought his blanket. The time was very long; but back of Chake were generations of men who had lain patiently in wait. He gripped the haft of the heavy spear. Black night descended in earnest. The little fires were dying down. Still Kingozi, tortured by his headache, wandered about. Upward of two hours passed.
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 at replied. "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?"
These shenzis eat what?" "Food is ready, bwana." "I will eat. Then we must make shauri with these people to get our loads. My men must rest to-day." "Come, bwana," said Cazi Moto. Kingozi stooped to pass through the door. When he straightened outside, he paused in amazement. Before him stood his camp, intact.
Kingozi removed his pipe from his lips, and sat erect. "Stand up!" he commanded sharply. "If you are not the sultani how dare you sit down before me!" The youth whisked the stool away: the old man covered his discomfiture in a flow of talk. Kingozi listened to him in silence.
"Ran against the messengers you sent back to get Doctor McCloud. They guided us. By the way, what is it? Must have been serious. You're not a man to run to panics. You look fit enough now." "Eyes," explained Kingozi. His heart sank, for the failure of his messengers to go on after McCloud took away the last small hope of saving his eyesight.
At an angle calculated to intercept the caravan, Kingozi set off down the hill. After twenty minutes' brisk walk it became evident that they were approaching the route of march. Animals fled past them in increasing numbers, some headlong, others at a dignified and leisurely gait, as though performing a duty.
Every man of them wore about his ankles hollow bangles of considerable size; and these he clashed loudly one against the other as he walked. It made a great uproar this the clang of the iron, the wild wailing of the 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. This is an important occasion."
Supper was served as usual; and as usual the Leopard Woman joined Kingozi for the meal. The occasion was constrained on her side, easy on his. He asked her various questions as to details of the surroundings which she answered accurately but a little absently. She spoke from the surface of her mind.
"You have the force," she acknowledged after a moment. Somewhat surprised at her lack of protest or was it resignation to the inevitable? Kingozi checked himself. After a moment he went on. "Somehow," he mused, "in spite of your amiable activities, I have a certain confidence in you.
The shining, naked bodies, the waving ostrich plumes, the glitter of spears, the glint of polished iron, the wild, savage expression of the men, the throb of barbaric music appealed to her artistic sense. In a way her mind was at rest. At least the striving was over. Kingozi had made his decision; it was no use to struggle against it longer.
Word Of The Day