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"Of course you are supposed to be my prisoner, so I must send you under guard. You might take a small present to M'tela from me. I have not yet visited his place of course. This might be considered a preliminary to my first visit. Does it appeal to you?" "But yes! And I shall behave. I have given my parole. I shall be the good boy!" "Of course. I understand that. Do you eat at noon? No?

At first he introduced the name at any time in the course of the interview; but soon he found that this dried up all information. So then he reserved that subject for the last. They were afraid of the very syllables. They spoke them under their breaths, with side glances. M'tela was a great lord; a lord of terror, to be feared. At first the information was most vague.

With the riches thus unexpectedly placed at his disposal, and legitimately his by the fortunes of war, Kingozi was enabled to proceed to the final grand exchange of gifts that assured his friendship with M'tela and sealed the alliance. He was spurred to his best efforts in this by the news, brought in by an alarmed Mali-ya-bwana, that Winkleman had escaped.

When your warriors hear the great noise they make, and see the dead men, they will run." "You do not know the warriors of M'tela," replied the king with dignity. "Should the half of them fall, the other half will give these to the hyenas. Yes, even if they had the thunder itself as weapon!" "How many are there, oh, King?" asked Kingozi, greatly relieved.

All he knows is to give me a letter from the Kaiserliche dumkopf at Dar-es-salaam. I read it. It tells me I must come here, to this place, with speed, and get the military aid of this M'tela and so forth with many details. It was another foolishness. I know this type of people well. There is nothing new to be learned. They are of the usual types. It is foolishness to come here.

A fillet bound long ostrich plumes that slanted backward on either side the head; and as they walked forward in the rather teetery fashion of the savage dandy these plumes waved up and down in rhythm. "M'tela," said the shenzi goatherd waving his hand abroad. They camped at the edge of a pleasant grove near running water.

M'tela was a great lord, a lord of many spears, his hand was heavy, he took what he desired, his warriors were fierce and cruel and could not be gainsaid. Told under the breath, with furtive glances to right and to left. And not far: a three days' journey. Kingozi translated this into terms of safari travel and made it about eight days.

He watched M'tela carefully while he spoke, and felt satisfaction at what he saw. "Have no fear, papa," replied M'tela easily. "I will cause the great drums to be beaten. My warriors are as the leaves of the grass; and these are few." "Nevertheless they will kill many of yours," said Kingozi with great earnestness; "for they have guns that kill many times and at a long distance.

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.

And, as far as Kingozi could see, the sole purport of the whole affair was not topography but a route to the country of M'tela! Here was a facer! As far as any one knew, the country he had just traversed was unexplored. Yet here was a good detailed map of just that route.