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There are people in the hills. There will be people near the water. Get them to help you carry back the water bottles." Simba selected Mali-ya-bwana to accompany him, but this did not meet Kingozi's ideas. "I want that man," said he. Simba and one of the other leading porters started away. Kingozi gave his attention to the members of the other safari. They sat and sprawled in all attitudes.
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 the Leopard Woman, but it was to the point. "My bwana is a great lord," said he. "He is master of all things. He fights 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.
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 was at 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."
At the roar of the great gun the rhinoceros collapsed in mid career, going down, 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 the occupant of the hammock finally emerged from the tangle and came erect.
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 grouped silently all the combined safaris. At his own elbows stood Cazi Moto and Simba possibly Mali-ya-bwana. He allowed an impressive wait to ensue. Then abruptly he began his interrogation.
They would change places so skilfully that the occupant of the hammock could not have told when the shift took place. Alongside walked a tall, bareheaded, very black 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 ." The unknown was very tall, very straight, most well formed.
Kingozi noted the compass bearings of all the kopjes; took back sights in the direction from which he had come; closed his compass; and began idly to sweep the country with his glasses. In an unwonted 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.
"This is a dry country," Kingozi suggested blandly. "Of course you will not risk a blind push with so many men. You will probably send out scouts to find the next water." "That is possible," she replied gravely; but Kingozi thought to catch a twinkle in her eye. He raised his voice: "Boy!" Mali-ya-bwana glided from one of the small porters' tents. "Qua heri."
"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.
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 is true 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 have died, so that the painting for mourning went through many tribes.
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